What I'm Up To

Been a long time since I checked in. Y'all deserve better. Here's a quick life update.

In Doodle News

Doodle is still peeing/shitting in the house, but she's growing bigger and more loyal everyday, which is a cause for celebration and an increase in my tolerance for its naughty behavior. Doodle can sit, respond to her name, and follow us without a leash. We had a bit of a scare when she shat out some tapeworms. We saw our vet the next day, got her some medicine, and she proceded to excrete a ~9 inch tapeworm which was both awesome and disgusting. We have pictures, if anyone doubts the veracity of my claims regarding its size. Aside from poop pictures though, we have lots of other (read: cuter) pictures we'll be sharing with everyone soon.

In Work News

Work is good. Easy. I'm working at the new center on New Hope Road, while Eunice continues to work at the main center closer to the center of the city. The atmosphere in and around the new center is highly preferable to that of the main center. It's quieter, smaller, cleaner, has a great cold-noodle stand next to the building where I get my daily dose of MSG, and the staff is a bit more tightly-knit than the staff at the main center. Unfortunately, Eunice is stuck working at the main center (which, of course, has its own advantages) so we're working apart 4 out of the 5 days.

Yesterday was the monthly "ECA" (extra-curricular activity) which is a little get together for students and teachers where stories are told, plays are performed, games are played, and prizes are distributed. This month's ECA was focused on the Mid-Autumn or Moon Festival, which is chiefly celebrated by the exchanging and devouring of moon cakes. Moon cakes are heavy, circular, palm-sized cakes which can be filled with an assortment of ingredients; everything from peanuts to chicken to egg yolks to tiramisu can be found lurking beneath the outer layer. I've been extremely cautious in my consumption of moon cakes fter my first encounter with a salty, chicken-filled moon cake.

After the ECA the teachers all went out to a a buffet together to celebrate Teacher's Day, the other holiday du jour. It was the second day in a row we went out with some of our fellow teachers (both Chinese and foreign) and it was great to do something outside of work with our co-workers. When we first got to WEB, it seemed like the foreign and Chinese teachers were completely independent entities, some hardly even acknowledging each other as they passed in the hallways. It's nice to get a little more familiar with everyone.

In Revelations News


Okay, first, Chinese bureaucracy is fast. Painless. Efficient. At least what Eunice and I have dealt with. When somebody described to us the procedure for extending our tourist visa a month (deal with local police, go to a place called the "PSB" and speak with officials), it sounded like our experience would be characterized by long lines and misunderstanding paper-pushers. We got neither. Each of those visits lasted about 20 minutes each. All I could say was "Booya!"

Secondly, trying to pay for meals and booze is not going to be easy here. Getting treated is nice, but I'm reminded of feelings I had when Eunice and I stayed at Guo and Niu's home where I so desperately wanted to pitch in more than I was allowed. I'm going to have to start getting creative in how I pay people back. Suggestions are welcome.

Thirdly, The-Dream is an absolutely incredible R&B artist. Nobody sings about sex quite like him. Or quite as much as him (think pretty much every song). I've never heard someone sing about the same topic and make each song sound fresher and, dare I say, sexier than the last. And nobody has ever made me feel like I "ain't hittin' it right" (the refrain from "Veteran" off of album Love King. You can probably guess he's not talking about war veterans...). That I'm just now realizing The-Dream's greatness is shocking. I've been a huge fan of his "Falsetto" (as in: "talkin' all dat shit, soon as I hit, I got her talkin' like this, in a falsetto") and appreciated his ability to make four-minute serenades to his own sexual prowess not only listenable, but ultra-on-repeat-able. But The-Dream is a sick producer and has effectively drawn me into the world of R&B. Please go to his website and listen to the Michael Jackson-evoking "Fuck My Brains Out."

Fourthly, the website thxthxthx is a cute, wonderful, and strangely thought provoking concept which I've recently stumbled upon. The premise to the website is the author hand writes a thank you note to an inanimate object everyday. These things range from her period to emotions to interactions she's had with people. It's extremely simple, but the idea of focusing on one good thing that happens to you every day and physically showing your appreciation for them is a disposition-altering practice. After discovering the site, on my walk to work I began to think about what small things I am thankful for, and thinking of things in such a light - as opposed to, say, focusing on all the things that I am annoyed or bugged by - really had an effect on my mood. I'm tempted to adopt the practice myself, and I recommend experimenting with it yourself. You'll be surprised at how many things there are. If that's too much work for you, go to her site and see how she does it. I'm also sort of attracted to the idea because, doing so much blackboard writing recently, I'm once again confronted by how awful my handwriting looks. Writing by hand everyday would be a nice way to combat the slow deterioration of that outdated-but-important skill.

And finally, life without a smartphone is simpler. I may not have a camera or mp3 player at all times, but that ain't the end of the world. So...

Dear Thief Who Stole My iPhone,

Thank you for ridding me of the crutch and distraction that my iPhone had become. I know your intention was not to bring me into a more intimate, personal, and appreciative relationship with the world around me, but your actions have helped me more than any self-control article on any website could. I hope you're enjoying the picture I took of that enormous crap I took one day. And Angry Birds. 

Keep it safe,
Dan

Looking For Gold That Can't Be Bought or Sold

Watching Doodle play clumsily in my new apartment in my new city after which my new dog is named gives me a sense of calm which I haven't felt since I left slow and sunny Sanya. The past week or so has been a tornado of tasks, all contributing to the ultimate goal of creating a foundation for residing in Chengdu for the next year.

Jobs: Check.

Apartment: Check.

Phones: Check (well, at least until this morning when mine enjoyed a stimulating ride in our washing machine)

Internet: Check!

Accomplishing these things wouldn't necessarily feel so good or be so miraculous if it wasn't all happening in China. It feels good, to rely on one's own skills and see these kinds of results. It all feels very much like a story – one I might be able to publish if I were a better writer. Here's what the synopsis on the back flap would look like:

Using the only skills they have (native English and passable Mandarin Chinese), a privileged and somewhat sheltered interracial American couple encounter the trials of everyday life in the thriving Chinese provincial capital of Chengdu. They eat new foods (some incredible, some unbearable); discover new philosophies (some reasonable, others utterly confounding); and deal with familiar situations with a Chinese twist (haggling with landlords over payment plans). The experiences they have instill in them a newfound appreciation of the luxuries and familiarities of their life in America, while simultaneously opening their eyes to the diversity and viability of other world views and ways of living.

Or something like that. But since we arrived in Chengdu, I've been feeling that the story I could tell - the one unfolding now about living in a city that is so suitable for Westerners and their habits – isn't a story that would pique the interest of readers other than the one's whose duty it is (either through blood or friendship) to read my writing See, I started reading books about foreigners in China when I was about 14 years young. Books like Mark Salzman's “Iron and Silk” and Peter Hessler's “River Town” were the tomes that gave me my Beijing Boner pretty early on. These books informed my perception of China from then on, for better or for worse. For better in the sense that if I didn't read any of these books I wouldn't be half as interested in China as I am now; for worse, in that I got the idea from these books that, to have a meaningful and share-worthy experience in China, you needed to go to the underdeveloped China, the non-materialist China. In other words, the hard China. Now I can't blame the authors of these esteemed books for filling me with these ideas; I mean, when they were in China (80s, early 90s) a much greater portion of China was hard China than is now. China, at this point, no matter how bad a rap it gets in international news, has come a long way in both economic and egalitarian terms.

But now more than ever there is a China that in so many ways reflects the consumer culture in America that many people will take one look at this China and think there's nothing so special about it. Just another culture absorbed by the consumer impulses that come hand-in-hand with (nearly) free market economic policies. And I admit, the ubiquity of couture dispensaries and products sometimes makes me wonder what this generation of affluent Chinese values other than designer products, fashion, and staying on the cutting edge. But I refuse to believe this consumerist China is not a resource for interesting writing or research. This side of China is not as immediately strange and foreign as its poorer and perhaps more culturally rich counterpart, which makes total sense: the more Chinese society represents our profligate one, the less we're disposed to dissect and inspect it.

Of course it isn't nearly as one-sided as I make it sound: also residing in the bustling metropolises of China are the bootstrap pullers, the ones who eat some bitterness and hardship in the name of attaining a better lifestyle. I'm not too sure I'll get to meet those kinds of folk, since my job in Chengdu caters to the more affluent bunch, something our superior/liaison Mindy managed to mention several times during our informal post-interview dinner. When mentioned the types of customers the school draws, it immediately brought to mind the offer I turned down last Spring. I got a job for the China Education Initiative, an organization that sends American graduates to teach English in impoverished parts of China where the graduation rate from middle to high school is less than 50%. I turned that job down for various reasons which themselves could constitute their own blog post. Anyways, the thought that went through my mind as Mindy rattled off the exorbitant prices for different kinds of classes was: “I turned down a job in a remote village whose sole purpose was to close China's egregious education gap, only to take a job in a big city where I help sustain that gap by teaching China's most privileged.” Joining CEI would have been a noble pursuit, no doubt about that. Also, that experience would have been ripe with opportunities for writing and experiences similar to the kind that I read about, which made me fall in love with China in the first place. But would that be the only way to come away with a shareable and interesting story? Chengdu may provide the kinds of amenities and products that make a Westerner feel more at home, but does that mean it's any less fascinating and hold any less potential than the less central places my idols covered with their brilliant writing? I am determined to come out of Chengdu knowing more about it than just the plazas where Pizza Hut sits across Starbucks which is next to a Louis Vuitton which is situated under a Tiffany's; I want to get beyond its reputation as a city of leisure and see the human potential that China has in spades more than any other country. I think that is something you can find in China, no matter where you are. It might just be a little deeper below the surface in a city like Chengdu.

Fate Favors the Spicy

Things don't always go according to plan

 I've always considered that saying to have a negative connotation. In mundane and dramatic situations alike, I imagine when things don't go according to plan, bad stuff happens: you miss your bus, the hotel misspells your name and you don't get your reservation, you get eaten by sharks, you spontaneously combust. The plan is safe and fate is cruel. I'm learning more and more on this trip through China - which, as it happens, is nearing the two month marker - that the plan already drawn up isn't all that great compared to the world of possibilities.

My first lesson in Fate 101 was when the owners of Sunshine Hostel in Sanya offered us the opportunity to live free of charge in exchange for English lessons. We took up the offer and have had an incredibly relaxing and fun several weeks, during which we've gotten to know many of the guests as well as the staff and owners. Eunice and I have gotten the opportunity to interview some of the workers here about their lives and passions (which you can check out at her blog) which has been pretty fascinating and has helped us get to closer to them. It's quite funny actually: I told many people that, aside from working in China, I wanted to develop relationships so I could find some work more professional than the oh-so-common English teaching job. I have been developing relationships, but they have hardly been professional ones. I have a really great network of friends from many different areas of China now, which would never have happened had I not rolled the dice and gave my original plan the back seat.

Today, Eunice and I decided to roll the dice yet again, but this time the stakes are a bit higher. The original plan (may she rest in peace), for those who don't know, was to go to Guilin to teach English for a paltry 4000RMB per month (the equivalent of about $660). As Eunice and I began to pay more attention to our budgets, it became clear to me that even if the price of living in Guilin was lower than other cities, we would certainly want some more money than that. Also at play was the way Chinese characterized Guilin: a great place to travel, not a great place to live. An underdeveloped city like Guilin has certain appeals which I no doubt romanticized to the point of complete distortion, but the past two months of traveling have made me more aware of the kind of comforts I'm used to, and the kind I'll need to maintain my happiness for a year in China. I began to fear Guilin might not sustain me. I also considered Eunice's needs: she can deal with any type of living environment, but I know she would not be happy living in a city with an ex-pat population near nil. At the same time as these doubts about Guilin popped up, I kept hearing great things about the capital of Sichuan Province: Chengdu.

We first heard about Chengdu from Terry, the target of our first staff interview (you can read Eunice's adaptation of the interview here).  When asked what his favorite city he traveled to during his 2 month, 6000km biking trip from Beijing to Sanya was, he did not hesitate: Chengdu. The food, the atmosphere, the people - pretty much everything about Chengdu was praised. Terry broke off from the question-answer format of the interview to start telling us that Guilin didn't hold a candle to Chengdu; that we could find a job in Chengdu that'd pay twice as much; that he could get in touch with the friends he'd made there to make us feel at home, help us get apartments, jobs... basically whatever we wanted. What he said got me thinking, but it wasn't until a week later that Eunice and I actually decided to put all our chips on Chengdu. Today, I sent an e-mail informing our contact in Guilin that we decided to pick a more developed city, severing that tie and the absolute promise of a work visa. Now Eunice and I have until the second week of September, I believe, to secure a job and work visa.

Terry talked about fate when we interviewed him. He believed it was in control of most everything. If he didn't come to Sanya, he wouldn't have become friends with the owners here and returned to work as a volunteer and, in turn, would not have met Eunice and me. I'm starting to see things a bit like Terry now. If we hadn't stayed in Sanya to teach English here, we wouldn't have interviewed Terry; if we didn't interview Terry, we'd never know about Chengdu; if we didn't know about Chengdu, we'd still be heading for Guilin. I can't wait to see what Chengdu has in store for us.

Echo Chambers

That idealism.

It took a while for me to warm up to it at first. I certainly haven't adopted it myself - not even close. But it it was long before I was even be able to entertain her sort of complete disregard for the persistance of the status quo without getting a little pissed off myself. I nearly consider it law, that persistance. To her, it's just a problem that needs fixing. To challenge it so readily seemed ignorant of unquestionable truths and a waste of time and a whole lot of other shit to me, none of which I thought was worth anyone's time. Well, at least not worth mine.

If you've read Eunice's blog (and I hesitate to refer to it as my "sister blog", for fear of drawing incest-related remarks, and also because of the massive gulf that lies between my philosophies and hers) or talked to her, then you know about her idealism. I don't know when it became her M.O. to care so much or to believe in the possibility of, well, anything, but at this point it's just about permeated every fiber of her being. She wants to change things for the better - leave a positive imprint. She is not deterred by issues of extreme magnitude - the bigger the problems are, the more drawn she seems to be.

In complete honesty, I had been a very self-centered person until my long-distance relationship with Eunice became a close-distance one, so I'm guessing her activist streak began some time sophomore year (2009)... come to think of it, I've never known for certain what got it rolling. I mean, I'm sure every college student's political consciousness coming-of-age story is pretty similar - you know, the one where they realize there's a world outside themselves and they start to feel more important themselves because they can finally comprehend that and talking about them more makes them feel more important still- so I won't go into the details of my own. When Eunice talked about issues of poverty and injustice and so on, I could only agree insofar as they were bad, bad things and really a shame that they existed. But, I would say, what can we do? The system has failed some people, worked for others. I took this stance and gave myself the self-important-sounding role of "realist" in all of these conversations, and I made her don the appropriate though patronizing-sounding role of "idealist."

Anyways, Eunice's idealism always seemed like a hopeless venture: a great way to get worked up and emotional about issues, but what would our discourse do to actually help solve the problems (having no actual experience "solving" such problems, solving - in the context of our conversations - meant coming up with hypothetical institutional or programmatic solutions painted in such broad strokes that they would be sound in theory but probably immensely complicated in practice. This, though, was satisfying enough, if such solutions were ever reached at all.). It got me angry and kind of confused that she could be so passionate about so many issues, and I basically saw it as a waste of emotional energy for the most part. Who wanted to get worked up about coming up with hypothetical solutions to the entrenched culture of factory farming in America? Why not just give in and ignore the ugly truths like the rest of us? It is unquestionably much easier to take that route. As such, it was much easier for me to hold my "realist" stance. She chipped away at it, though, and after a while it didn't seem totally nuts to me.

I still have issues with the amount of emotion she invests in the world's problems sometimes. However I don't find her idealism foolish or misguided or inferior in any way, something I'm ashamed to admit I once thought of it as. Instead, I think about what the opposite would have done for me: I picture myself talking about issues similar to the ones I've discussed with Eunice, but instead of Eunice I'm talking to another "realist." Well, if I'm going to be real, then let's call this person what he really is: a cynic. In this situation, I'd basically be sitting in an echo chamber, talking about the futility of some situation, while my cynic buddy agrees about the futility of said situation, until we confirm for each other that the situation is hopeless and our energy would be better spent caring less about it. Now this situation, to me, is clearly far worse than being exposed to (perhaps) radical and (maybe) unorthodox brainstorms on how to fix society's myriad issues. In fact, it makes clear as day the benefits to such un-like philosophies collaborating: if all we ever got were people confirming one another's ideas and points of view, then everybody's philosophies would only grow in one direction. In my case, I would only believe in the futility of an effort to change well-cemented institutions, and I'd probably be much more self-interested than I am today. I can't speak for Eunice as to what my dose of cynicism has done to change her philosophy. I know she ain't giving up on the world anytime soon.

The truth is, it's easier to swallow ideas similar to your own. It's easier to adhere to a philosophy that already resonates with parts of you. To entertain other and different ideas is to challenge oneself. People don't make an effort to understand their opposites, and will resist them pretty violently and dogmatically. I experienced it in my conversations with Eunice, defending things I didn't necessarily believe in, but that I had come to think of as constants. I ended up surprising myself a lot in these conversations, mainly because my ideas had rarely been challenged before; indeed, I hardly every vocalized them to begin with. Actually being challenged exposed some of my "beliefs" as mere propaganda or hear-say swallowed whole and then repeated without a second thought. It sort of constituted a spring cleaning of bullshit. Either way, it was a wake-up call of sorts.

It isn't easy, though, to find someone to challenge you. First of all, like I said earlier, no one goes and looks for that refutation of their beliefs. People want their ideas reaffirmed. Second of all, from high school on, we all undergo a homogenization process of sorts. I'm not calling us robots or anything, but it's undeniable that we gradually lose some of our idiosyncrasies, instead shedding them in order to sport a more acceptable and agreeable suit of likability or level-headedness, simultaneously heading for a like-minded social group in which to feel most at-home. Be this choice or natural phenomena? I cannot say. Blame it on pop culture, social values, the school system, trying to get a stable job, stable girl/boyfriend - who knows why it happens. Many of those aforementioned things/pursuits make being a challenger more of a liability than an asset. Either way, it seems the likelihood that you'll find someone to challenge you lessens with time.

People say "opposites attract"but I don't think it's that simple. To a degree, we want to have our beliefs confirmed in the form of other people also believing in them. Actually defending your beliefs is a revealing experience: you may get defensive, upset, or indignant. If you give your "opposite" enough time, though, you might find that your own philosophy is changing a little bit.

Should I Stay or Should I Zou?

Today marks the 90th year of Chinese Communist Party. You wouldn't be able to tell, though, here at Sunny Sanya International Youth Hostel. Nothing here is different, apart from replacing the usual soundtrack of Death Cab, Feist, and other unoffensive (though smartly chosen, to my sensibilities) American pop with a couple of songs applauding the CCP and socialism; shehui zhuyi hao, shehui zhuyi hao! or socialism is good, socialism is good! exclaims one operatic track which apparently also received a rock remix which got play time later on in the evening. Soon enough, though, Nina Simone was back on the mic.

Life in Sanya has been good so far. Our hostel is clean and the staff is friendly, and the atmosphere at the hostel as well as the rest of the city is quite pleasant. The hostel sports a comfy common room, equipped with speaker system, full bar, several couches, and a pool table. In the several days we've been here, Eunice and I have already taken advantage of all our hostel has to offer.  I am unfortunately burdened at the moment by a slight cold, most likely contracted from too many quick temperature changes: the average temperature here gets me sweating in seconds, while buses, restaurants, and our bedroom are all treated with frigid air-con. I expect, though, that it will pass soon.

The hostel's main proprietor, Ina (25/F/Beijing) has been treating me with Chinese medicine as well as giving me dietary tips in order to beat the cold (no fruit or cold water). Ina seems like she spends 24 hours a day tending to the hostel, though she has assured us she goes home at some point each night. Her boyfriend of 3 years, Jason (25/M/also from Beijing), is co-manager and takes the night shift, normally getting in around 6 and tending bar and drinking with guests for the rest of the night. Jason and Ina studied in Singapore together, and afterwards they decided to stay and Jason took up a bar-tending job at a 5-star hotel and Ina worked in accounting elsewhere, though they were both unsatisfied with the lack of personal contact their jobs afforded them, so they planned on opening a bar in Beijing when they returned. In the end, after receiving a helpful business tip from a former teacher that the hostel business in China was booming, they decided to open Sunny Sanya instead, which is certainly more compatible with their hopes to pass their business onto their children in the future.

Apart from one Russian man, the hostel has been surprisingly devoid of foreign vacationers. I should mention that Russian travelers are so prevalent in Sanya that Cyrillic is ubiquitous around the city, on storefronts, billboards, and so on. Eunice and I have inquired about the popularity of Sanya among Russians, but have not gotten a convincing answer. Some investigation will be done in the near future. So, since day 1, we've done quite a lot of mingling with the Chinese guests here... well, we haven't had too many conversations here that weren't assisted by alcohol and the exchange of drinking games. Dice, number, and card games - it seems we've already run the gamut of game-types, though it hasn't even been a week. Drinking has been instrumental, though, in getting to know other guests, and even though it brings us closer to breaking our daily budget, Eunice and I wouldn't have had nearly this much fun or interaction without it. Not only is it an easy way to break the ice, but it's a great way to get the Chinese folk practicing the little English they know, and Eunice practicing the little Mandarin she knows. Eunice's numbers wouldn't be half as good as they are if it weren't for playing "21" Chinese-style. Without drinking, we also wouldn't have gotten to see the elusive Auntie come around and sing Mao-era classics and play some Party praising songs on her harmonica (of which I had video, but due to a recent pick-pocket incident I will be unable to share with the world... perhaps the biggest tragedy of losing my iPhone).

So despite some of the more unfortunate events that have occurred (sickness, loss of my electronic Swiss Army knife), I can't say life in Sanya has slipped into the red. Hardly - the city has a lot to offer, and it seems Eunice and I have barely started to scratch off the aluminum strip hiding the winning lottery numbers. And that's what makes it hard to turn down Ina's offer to live at her hostel for the next month, free of charge, in exchange for teaching the staff English. It is difficult for me to postpone existing plans for new ones, but it's also very tough for me to give up free room and board a mere two minutes walk from the beach. All I know for certain is that I should cherish the fact that this is the most difficult question I have to answer at the moment.

Nature's Candy

Our host, Guo (the husband in the Guo and Niu super-duo... man I like how that sounds!), was a communications engineer for the Party from the late 60s into the mid-90s, during which his responsibilities changed from telegraphing (I think) to internet communication. I know I'm missing some information in between (probably a whole lot that I'll be able to tease out in the near future), but his interests go way beyond farming and communication. Before Eunice and I arrived in Hainan, we had exchanged some e-mails regarding our plans. At one point he mentioned that he was writing a book that he would like some help translating.


I never fooled myself into thinking I was competent enough to translate a book, let alone a book whose subject matter was something as complex as "systems theory." "Systems theory" is something I barely understand, even (or maybe I should say "especially") after Guo's explanation: how his disagreement with Darwin's theory of natural selection and competition inspired his research; how all things in all subjects of study are governed by three "systems"; how Jean-Baptiste Lamarck and other 17th and 18th century philosophers were on-target with their theories of how things came to be; how Darwin might have unlocked the secrets of humanity if he had today's technology. Much of our conversation about systems theory (which lasted about 2 hours) was tough for me to understand, not just conceptually, but because of the partially eroded language barrier. I basically only know that systems theory can (or tries to) explain everything. Everything. This excerpt from the Wikipedia page sums up the theory's lofty goals: "Systems theory is the transdisciplinary study of systems in general, with the goal of elucidating principles that can be applied to all types of systems in all fields of research." It was a pretty draining, and my interest waned about halfway through. Such is the nature of many of our conversations, though: I only understand parts of them, and even when I think we've exhausted the topic he takes it somewhere new, probably not getting how little I'm catching.

Life is strange here. Sometimes I don't know who has it harder: me, the translator, who has to bore through all these conversations, translate what I know, admit to Eunice when I don't understand half of what they're saying (and this is awkwardly done right in front of our hosts, though they don't know that's what I'm telling her; or Eunice, who has to have these conversations filtered through a semi-competent translator, can't say what she wants to say if it's out of my ability, has to deal with my inability to take time out of their sometimes-too-engaging conversations to translate what they've said, etc. I'm also not too deft at ending these conversations (the last one, which went from Cultural Revolution/Great Leap Forward to Taiwan-China relations to American politicians Chinese people like [Nixon, Kissinger, Clinton] to Somalian pirates to North/South Korea relations and ended up lasting about 2 hours). All in all, it ain't too easy, but I guess I didn't come here for easy. In the end, though, it all makes Eunice and I laugh - the situation we're in, that is. And I'm glad we can deal with it like that. 

---

Here are some selected shorts from the last couple days:

-At last, Eunice and I actually got to help pick some mangoes. We alternated climbing a ladder up to the fruits brandishing a pair of stem-cutters, often climbing through clouds of bugs or spiders’ webs. After a short photo shoot with Niu, we literally enjoyed the fruits of our labor (I promise that’s the last time I’ll say that). I’m actually in love with the egg mangoes (called such for their smaller size elliptical shape) and their delightfully sour taste.

-It rained a little bit in the afternoon. A tease - it didn’t make things any cooler. However, it was the coolest night here so far. Unrelated phenomena in my eyes.

-We made about 77 dumplings with Guo and Niu for dinner. A dumpling feast. I have yet to completely finish a meal given to us by these two - they are far too generous with the portions. For those who thought working on a farm would make me skinnier... well you’d lose that bet.

-We went to the beach the next morning - Lingao Beach. It was pretty deserted, but pleasant. Warm weather, warm water, and all at 9am. Astounding. The air was clear, the water not as much, though certainly not dirty. We threw the frisbee a bit, gathered tiny crabs to feed the ducks when we got back (both activities - catching, then feeding - immensely enjoyable).

-After swimming and crab-hunting for a bit, an encroaching tide pushed us up and off the beach, into an early lunch where we enjoyed some garlicky veggies, chickens’-leg clams, some sort of fish, and some crab. Niu impressed us with her ability to scour a single crab for the entire meal, getting every bit of meat it could have possibly provided. She had prefaced this, fittingly, with a story of a man who took a ten-hour train from Shanghai and spent the entire trip eating a single crab. I think Niu could give that man a run for his money.

---

Everyday is a little different, though the skeleton of each day is the same: 

+Wake up at 7

+Eat an over-filling breakfast and talk about how Eunice doesn't eat meat, get health tips from our wise and knowledgable hosts. Today's tip: if you don't eat egg yolks, you will die young. Breakfast is invariably followed by a fruit feast of Elephant Tooth and Egg Mangoes, and today some lychee was added to the mix. (add that to the growing lists of "fruits I've eaten")

+Do about a half hour of manual labor in the garden

+Shower

+Read/study Chinese (started doing flashcards today - waddup Wang Kai)

+Lunch (again, too much food)

+Internet for way too long (often spent blogging, scouring lifehacker/kotaku/gizmodo/facebook... I've actually grown an aversion to looking at political commentary since I've gotten here... a positive development, though not helpful for discussion of current events)

+Eat dinner (my stomach is about to burst at this point)

+Take a walk around the neighborhood, start walking back as it gets too dark to see/almost get run over by a variety of automobiles on the narrow road.

+Internet and read until we're too tired to stay up any longer (this is the best method for getting to sleep in the humidity... and yes, internet is a verb now)

Oh! Before I forget, I'd like to publicly announce that you were right, mom: fruit is nature's candy. It's sweet, sour, mushy, yummy and everything good you said it would be. I never should have doubted you. Now what else have I been missing out on?

Hot and Slow: Life in Hainan

 DISCLAIMER: Since Eunice has done a great job of reporting what our first couple of days in China were like (bouncing around from Hong Kong to Guangzhou to Hainan) here at her blog, I decided to spare everybody some time and report a bit more in depth on what life in Hainan is like. Enjoy

---

When life is as slow and uneventful as it is here in Linggao County, my mind tends to wander. Sometimes I tend toward thoughts of futility: why even shower or drink water when the refreshment derived from those actions lasts for mere minutes, if that long at all? At other times, I tend towards a sort of self-loathing: why am I spending my time here so idly, by just reading, resting, or fanning myself? Why don’t I be a little productive and study Chinese, stretch, do something that makes my time feel well-used? I also find myself trying, but quickly failing, to appreciate the unique circumstances I find myself in. “Try and find the hidden beauty in the ubiquity of cow shit” I tell myself. The lack of direction and purpose in my daily life in Linggao County is of course one of the factors generating these generally negative, unfulfilling thoughts.

It was a surprise to me and Eunice that we would spend more time each day eating our hosts’ produce than helping them farm it. In fact, the farming-to-eating ratio of our first two days is approximately 1:18. This isn’t because they’re hesitant to give us work. It’s just a fact of life in Hainan that the best hours for manual labor are the hours when the sun isn’t overhead, which excludes most of the day from being used for work. This has had several effects on our stay here:

1) The feeling that we are taking advantage of our hosts’ hospitality is of much greater magnitude, since we have so little help to offer.

2) Much of the day is spent idly (as mentioned above); as such, the hours feel elongated. No doubt this feeling is exacerbated by the heat, making each dull hour slowly melt into the next.

3) I can’t help but sometimes feel our time in China could be spent more richly - seeing more places, meeting more people, etc. As Eunice puts it, in a more “tourist-y” fashion (and she means that in the most damning sense of the word). I, however, have no problem with the idea of ditching the dull to pursue the new, exciting, yada yada yada.

I guess that last notion means I haven’t yet gotten completely used to the idea of WWOOFing - of acclimating to, and eventually (one hopes) appreciating the kinds of lives other people live. I certainly am more used to life here than I was 3 days ago, when we arrived. I’m more used to the heat, setting up mosquito nets every time we have to sleep, eating fruit at nearly every meal, and waking up to a concert of roosters at about 5am every morning (by the way, I think the South Park guys got the idea for the recurring “Dey took ar jerbs” joke from listening to roosters crowing. Thinking about it in those terms actually helps me deal with that otherwise unbearably obnoxious sound.). But I don’t think that says very much. I think the greater challenge is going to be making it through the dullness, the slowness, and making these qualities of life something more welcome than not.

Of course, our first couple days in China weren’t 100% perfect. Lugging our baggage around, running from train station to train station, getting misinformation from receptionists, and just plain getting lost is something that happened much more frequently those first few days than since we got to Hainan. And that is most definitely a welcome change. You can probably tell it’s sometimes hard for me to be completely content with what I’m doing - always wanting more, or wanting something that I don’t have. I bet it’s pretty hard for anybody reading this to be sympathetic with that sentiment. I’m in no way bitter or discontent with my situation - I just have the occasional pang that I could and should be doing something else. But my life in Hainan won’t last forever, and I know the experience will only make me better, no matter how slow life is.

I’m determined to own every day I’m here in China. As slow or fast as things get, I will find the best in them. So consider this the last whiny post on this blog. :D