Bucket Listed for 13 Years: Becomes a Reality

Bangkok was a letdown. A tent-city now, occupied by people whose adorned Thai flags and semantics make it difficult to construe which side they’re actually fighting for. Filled with rats the size of small cats and sex sold on every corner – cheaply or nor, depending on where you look – Bangkok has, I think, a very specific niche. By day: history; but the history closes at 4:00. By night: debauchery. “Ping pong” shows and self-proclaimed Lady Boys and as many shades of bawdiness as you can think of. The older white men in business suits and younger white men in trendy fashions are nearly countless. And Bangkok knows exactly what they’re buying.

But a 12-hour train ride and a four-hour bus/mini-van ride later, we landed in nothing short of paradise. Here, monkeys big and small – some friendly, some rather aggressive and demanding – roam the white sand beaches. Touristic, yes, but amazingly still unsullied. If Phuket is the Jersey Shore, Ao Nang is Old Orchard, quaint, quieter, and charming.

On our first day, surviving on two or so hours of poor train sleep, we walked into town. Typical, I would say, of a beach town, with restaurants and shops selling towels and hats and sun cream everywhere you look. People bronzed to perfection and others reddening, searching desperately for shade under the relative shade of a coconut tree. And suddenly, there was no more town, but sprawling in front of us was sapphire and turquoise and the kinds of ocean you only ogle in someone’s Facebook photos. (Please feel free to ogle ours.)

On our second day, we woke to a late breakfast of boiled beef and garlic for Jake and flat noodles in a thick vegetable and seafood sauce for me, washed down with iced tea and coffee, then spent eight hours exploring the unbelievably remarkable islands just off Ao Nang.

Piled on a long boat with about 30 people, we crashed through the calm surf. In some areas the water was so clear that we could see straight to the bottom. The first beach, Railay, is fabled for its natural beauty and with good reason. High, white cliffs, soft, white sands, and turquoise water that seems too perfect to be true. Then to Poda Island, where we snorkeled. Below us, coral reefs that boasted dark, purple plant life, and schools of Admiral fish that swarmed us for pineapple, and the amazing Parrot fish whose scales flash pinks, purples, blues, and yellows, and whose lips are pouty and pursed moreso than any model’s. Then to the Seven Islands, where we swam through a natural hollowing of one of the islands, which is really more like a big ocean rock, which is not to make it sound any less incredible. Then, we went to Chicken Island – named for its natural shape, aptly, a chicken’s head – where we did more snorkeling in waters so unbelievably clear that we could see patterns in the coral even as the waves rippled, and finally we landed on Tup Island where we had our sunset barbecue.

I’m fairly certain I’m correct in saying that, as long as you like beaches and oceans and boats, our tour guide has the best job in the world. Every day he gets to motor around what I think is easily one of the most picturesque places in the world – every view is a postcard – then he gets to eat barbecued chicken and seafood that tastes distinctly like peace and sun and joy, then watch the sunset. Now, this is not any normal sunset: this is a sunset in paradise. The sky itself is smeared with precision in hues of fiery oranges, calming violets, bright blues, and hazy pinks better than even the finest roses. The sun hangs proud and heavy as day dies over Thailand, watching its reflection in the rippling ocean, narcissistic and vain, but undeniably beautiful. 

I stood in the water as the tide was rising in juxtaposition to the sun. The soft sand swallowed my feet as the water lapped at my toes, then my ankles, then pooled around my calves. I looked up at the one solitary star in the sky – bright, but lonely – and then another appeared. One by one they emerged in the sky, the eyes of gods and wisdom, until the sky was a smattering of shimmering jewels. There was no moon – the stars had the whole sky as their own personal playground. At that point nothing, nothing could be more beautiful.

Night fully surfaced and the tour guides swirled fire batons deftly and lit cigarettes on their ashes with just as much precision. Their fire blurred the sky, but was only a tease for the light that would come next.

Back on the boat, the land air warm behind us and the cooler sea breeze gnarling or hair, we headed back towards Ao Nang, but not before stopping a few beaches down from Railay for one of the most amazing experiences available on Earth. There in the water – blue-green by day, but pitch black by night – swirled schools of bioluminescent plankton who would illuminate the water like a million tiny flashlights every time I swirled my hands or feet. I haven’t been so fascinated by my own hands and feet since infanthood. It was like natural magic emerging from your own body and coming into the world as unsurpassed, mesmerizing beauty. When I looked up, stars twinkled magnificently over white cliffs. When I looked down, the water sang light.

The People You Meet in China

The wind blows colder here than it does at home. It whips between the concrete buildings and sinks its icy teeth beneath your jacket, under your skin, and into your bones.

Outside is a serenade of car horns, coughing, spitting, and creaky bicycles, and people conversing in a language where love an anger can be indistinguishable in sound.

It is halfway around the world, maybe more. It is far from anything familiar, where ordering a coffee is a challenge, and where nothing ever feels entirely as it should.

But in between the remnants of concrete Communism and beneath the layers of filth, lies something tangible and oddly comforting, even though it, too, is strange and unfamiliar. A language you speak. A joke you can share. An accent your recognize. A word you do not have to explain. A shared memory of a life put on pause.

In that world we were an hour away: Albany. Westfield. In that world we shared our stereotypes: Florida. In that world we understood a different kind of cold. Minnesota. In that world we walked upon the cobblestones: Edinburgh.

In this world, I do not know what we are and if we are different than we are in that other world that's hanging suspended like an alternate reality that someday, someday we'll return to. We talk of it like a pretend world, like an imaginary dream we shared as children in a sandbox, inventing a land far, far away.

The world is so close and we are outsiders. Outsiders on the periphery of two existences, straddled over a wide, choppy wake. We share what we can; we give what we can to each world: a story here, a photography there, a pool of memories we can collect in a scrapbook, let gather dust, and never fully return to.

The photographs and stories offer a glimpse through half an eye. But all that I've seen is not all that I've seen. The smells, the sounds, the sticky wetness that glues itself to the bottom of your shoes as you walk down Dead Dog Alley, sunglasses on, earphones blaring, and the disgustingly beautiful way the sewer bubbles over like a Lilliputian waterfall even when it hasn't rained for months.

The world isn't as small as it seems, and yet it is smaller.

Here is a temporary. Here is a rose petal, a dish of oily vegetables, a cake with tomatoes, seven people with mops, a bowling lane that never works. And here will be gone. In the long, drawn-out blink of an eye, here will be gone.

Good? Bad? Judge yourself and find your own answer, but the wide, wide world has seen that we cross. So, when you walk that way and I walk this way, and the noise fades and the sights and sounds once so familiar now see, foreign, I know the road you're walking.

Androgyny Makes People Learn Better and Other Lessons Kids Are Taught in China

I want to begin this blog by saying that I feel that, as of late (and by late I mean October/November, as I have been extraordinarily lax about posting) my blog has been coming off as anti-Chinese and inadvertently pro-American. I want to make a couple of things absolutely clear: I am not anti-Chinese, but rather a frustrated tourist stuck in the anger phase of culture shock. I am certainly not pro-American, but rather a frustrated citizen stuck in the anger phase of citizenship. Now that that's cleared up, we may continue.

As you all know, I am teaching over here and predominately what I do is 1:1 classes in 3-hour blocks. As painful and tedious as that can be sometimes, I do learn a lot of interesting things from my students, which I am posting here. Disclaimer: while I have absolutely asked some of these questions directly, I haven't asked all of them in these words, but they have been answered indirectly via other questions. And, no, the bulleted lists aren't choices for answers but rather different answers I've received.

1. Why do all Chinese middle and high school students have short, cropped hair? 

• Long hair sucks out your brainpower. 
• Girls with long hair spend more time thinking about their hair and less time thinking about their school work. 
• Girls with long hair are less attractive to boys so they don't have to worry about dating. 

2. What is beautiful? 

• Pale skin. 
• Big eyes. 
• Very, very thin. 

3. Follow up question: How do you become very, very thin? 

• You have to eat only a little meat and lots of fruits and vegetables. (To which I said, "You know, I eat no meat and lots of fruits and vegetables." And my student said-->) 
• Drink some tea. 
• My mom has this thing, like a hammer. You hit the bottom of your foot and it makes your leg look thinner. You know, it's not actually thinner but, wow, it works, you look thinner. But it hurts, so I just try to eat a little meat.

4. How do you fix traffic jams? (All my students say traffic jams are a big problem in their "small" city of 3-million, and most students suggest more public transportation, but one gem of a student suggested...)

• Make the bicyclists cross only when the light is red.

5. How do you fix pollution? (Most of my students say pollution is a big problem throughout China.)

• The big cities need to have less cars. 
• The government should fix it. 

6. Follow up question: Is it ever an individual person's responsibility simply not to litter?

• Yes, but that's not the real problem.
• No. It's the government's job to clean it up.
• Yes, but we have people who clean up.

7. How do you get tall?

• You have to drink milk. If you drink milk you won't be tall. (Said by a student roughly my height who claimed to have drunk a lot of milk.)

8. Do animal rights exist in China? (I then explained about animal rights in America, such as dogs and cats without homes are often "taken off the street by people" who then bring them to shelters and people who abuse animals are subject to the law. Most students said no, there are no animal rights here, but one student said...)

• Animals are taken off the street by people here, too. (Me: To shelters?) No, to eat. 

What I Could Have Done This Year (According to Women's Health)

'Tis that time of year again when everyone is rushing around to bake holiday goodies, drinking egg nog, and simultaneously kicking themselves for every frosted sugar cookie that graces their lips. It is obviously your choice as to whether or not you want to eat the cookie, but I suggest that you do and that you enjoy it instead of diving into a soliloquy about how you "shouldn't have done that" and you've "ruined your diet" or how, this New Year's, your resolving a new you.

The old you is fine. And beautiful. And perfect.

As infuriating as this robotic jargon is, it's not infuriating as the myriad sources that perpetuate - no, encourage - it. There are countless magazines, Cosmo, Self, Woman's World, etc., that try to sell us weight loss month after month, but I'm choosing a magazine that purports itself as one of health (hey, it's in the friggin' title), to show you all what you could've done if you'd just given them money this year. Here it is: what we could've done in 2013 according to Women's Health.

January/February

•Ah, the start to my fittest year!
•I could eat anything - you heard me right, anything - and still lose weight.
•I could tone every inch in just minutes a day.
•Learn the sex secrets of 140,000 who apparently all have sex the same way and consider themselves experts.

March

•Ah, the spring shape up issue!
•I could accelerate my weight loss and transform my belly, butt, and thighs with their "strong and sexy workout."
•I could cure cure insomnia, PMS, headaches, and more by eating certain foods.
•I could get a raise.
•I could have more sex.
•I could never fall short of my goal again...with makeup.

April

•Ah, the special beauty bonus issue!
•I could finally have a flat belly!
•Be surprised by Vitamin N.
•I could get everything that will lead to my happiness: success and money.
•I could have sizzling sex (that will trump the sex secrets I learned in January/February) with Katharine McPhee's sex tips. I know she must have great sex because she's a thin celebrity.
•I could find the perfect yoga style, which is the only thing that hasn't made me roll my eyes.

May/June

•I could get the best. abs. ever. Even better than the ones I got when I transformed my belly two months ago.
•I could drop two sizes without cardio.
•I could look better naked.
•I could have unlimited orgasms. Which is good, because I'm sick of paying more when I go over my monthly allowance.
•Be a confident cook.
•I could not stress out about shopping for swimsuits.

July/August

•Ah, the fitness special. Because everything else was just...what? Laziness?
•Guess what?! It's abs season. Good thing I transformed my belly in March and got the best. abs. ever in May/June. But wait! There's more! A bikini belly workout. Because my best. abs. ever. don't cut the mustard if I'm wearing a bikini.
•I could "friend" someone in real life. (I thought that's what friends were?"
•I could have great sex every time!
•I could sip my way to a sharper mind. I'm not entirely sure what that means.

September/October

•Ah, the fall fashion special.
•I could LOSE MY BELLY! Although that would make it hard to do things like eat and keep my head on.
•I could be on the hot body express. My best. abs. ever. and my bikini body just aren't good enough apparently.
•I could have flawless skin.
•I could have killer legs.
•I could sleep better, find my soulmate online, AND take an amazing selfie. This sounds like a very full two months.

October/November

•Ah, the shape up shortcuts issue!
•I could resize my thighs, even though I just got killer legs earlier in the fall.
•I could have my best. sex. ever. Is this like my best. abs. ever.?
•I could thwart hunger.
•I could turn my frown upside down.
•Plus, I can keep my boobs safe!

December

•I can tone every zone, fast and easy, and remove inches without spanx.
•I can save my own life. I only hope this issue shows how to do an emergency tracheotomy on myself.
•I can be smarter than hangovers. I've met some very intelligent ones in my life.
•I can have crazy good sex! This isn't as appealing as the best. sex. ever. or the unlimited orgasms. In fact, it sounds a little lackluster.
•I can lose weight without dieting with their clever rhyme: "Eat, Drink, and Still Shrink!"

Dammit, if I'd just bought a subscription to Women's Health, my 2013 would have shaped up to be my slimmest, trimmest year wrought with incredible sex and "killer" legs and abs. But alas, my only subscription is to Cat Fancy.

Clearly, if these magazines sold anything that was worth a damn they would no longer have the need to be in business. Magazines like this, along with myriad other sectors, most specifically the diet industry as a whole, does not have a long term investment in our health, it has a long term investment in their profits. My suggestions? Put down the magazines, pick up a book. Put down the magazines, go for a walk. Put down the magazines, do some Zumba. Eat a cookie, drink some eggnog, eat your broccoli, love yourself. Just. As. You. Are.

Spit: A Haiku

Gobby, filled with phlegm

Glistening expectorate

Hacking, hacking, splate

Survivor: China

This is my almost-half-way-there evaluation of living in China and, in it, I have chosen to focus on the dangers and annoyances of this country in case any of you decide that you actually want to come. (And you should, because Jake and I love and miss you.)

Getting Around - Driving                                                                                        

 China has one-seventh of the world's population and there are correspondingly roughly one-seventh of the world's cars. In Qinhuangdao, a "small" Chinese city, most streets run 6 lanes of traffic. There are traffic cops stationed at every intersection, but I have not once seen them do anything except point and their "super cool" my-shift-is-over dance, which involves saluting the relief worker, turning on the heel, marching away like a toy soldier, saluting from the middle of traffic, and then leaving. Plus, the women have to wear outfits which make them look more like cowgirls, adding to their pointlessness. 

Anyway, despite there being 6 lanes of traffic, "lanes" are just a theory here, not actual rules, as are the signs that tell you not to text and drive and the speed limit. So, cars driving really friggin fast swerve between lanes and oftentimes hang in between to pass anyone going slower than them. There are no seatbelt laws nor any signs of common courtesy, because in a country of one billion, individual preservation and satisfaction is a top priority.

Getting Around - Bicycles                                                                                        

There are bike lanes here, but unfortunately they also function as the lane all the cars want to use during a traffic jam and a hangout space for street vendors and the place where Ducars (like a motorized rickshaw) park. Plus, the bike lanes don't indicate direction, and, like with the cars, people are more interested in their own travels than making sure travel in general goes smoothly, so there's a lot of stopping and starting and brakes screeching. To top it all of, I haven't seen a single helmet. Not one.

Getting Around - Walking                                                                                       

Yes, the bike lanes act as more than just bike lanes, but the sidewalks pull quadruple duty as a place to walk, a place to bike, parking lots, and that lane you really, really want to be in during rush hour when the actual street and the bike lane are full up. I was stepping from the crosswalk onto the sidewalk to day and some guy was angrily honking at me because he, too, wanted to be on the sidewalk and I dared to be in his way. I wish this were a rare occurrence, but it's more or less a daily thing.

As I mentioned, there are 6 lanes of traffic on average, and, much like in America, cars have the privilege of turning right even on a red light. However, unlike in America, cars take that to mean that they never ever ever have to yield for anyone. So, when the green pedestrian crossing light goes on, you still have to wait to make sure that no one is going to hit you from the right. This can result in one of two things: not being able to start crossing and not being able to stop crossing. When you cannot stop crossing, you have to wait precariously on the white line somewhere in 6 lanes of traffic while the cars whiz by you, often unaware of the concept of lines. This is a prime example of Social Darwinism, with pedestrians at the trough of the proverbial food chain.

Other People                                                                                                             

I can't say this enough: everyone here is self-centered. And not in a Paris Hilton "I'm hot and everybody needs to look at me way" but in a way like a 2-year-old is self-centered. You know how, when you see a toddler in a supermarket and they have no idea you're there and walk right into because they're two and they have tunnel vision? Imagine that, but multiply it by 3 million and then add adults. I have never ever encountered such a lack of courtesy that goes way beyond my American personal space needs, which obviously aren't being met. 

At home and in my travels, I always encounter a few people who have their heads so far up their butts that the rest of us always have to be aware, but everybody here seems to suffer from head-up-butt disease. It's part remarkable but most infuriating because everybody is cutting in front of you, cutting you off, bumping into you, stopping right in front of you, etc. 

Those Pesky Loose Bricks                                                                                       

The Achille's Heel of the klutzy and graceless, loose bricks are a huge annoyance in China. You would think that, in a Communist country where the belief is that everybody has the right to a job, they could find someone to fix the damn things, but no. Instead, we're left to trip over them while dodging cars, bicycles, scooters, and other people who have no seemingly no awareness. And if that wasn't bad enough, these loose bricks are like something out of a video game, and when you step on them, they shoot up ground water. Now, that would be annoying in America where you'd probably be pretty pissed that your pants and shoes got wet, but in China, that means you are now partially covered in diluted sewer water. 

E.N. and T (and H and S)                                                                                       

Ears: Noise pollution. They've got it. Horns honking, brakes screeching, loogies being hocked, stores right next to each other that each blare music, construction, street vendors shouting at you to buy whatever they have. It's endless, and almost impossible to carry on a conversation walking outdoors.

Nose: Smell. It's awful. Between the trash and constant smell of sewage in the air, I always find it a rare, noteworthy moment when we step by a bakery or a coffee shop or get a whiff of gasoline.

Throat: See "Loogies" and "The Air."

Hair: China's killing mine. See "The Water."

Skin: Dry and simultaneously oily. Has always been a little like this, but China has exacerbated the problem. See "The Air" and "The Water."

Loogies                                                                                                                      

I'm having flashbacks to high school English when Mr. Devino used to hock up loogies into a tissue during silent reading...or any other time he felt the need to clear his throat. I'm having flashbacks, and wishing I was there. At least he had the relative courtesy to spit up into a tissue, which he would then discard on his desk. Here, it's a national pastime to spit and hock loogies onto the street. I cringe every time I hear it, which - and I am not exaggerating - is every time I leave the house and sometimes from the living room because the street is right outside. 

Beyond being a very irksome noise, it's so unhygienic. And this is the country that wears surgical masks when they're sick or worried that other people are sick! 

Betcha Can Eat Just One...                                                                                      

...because it's individually wrapped. I've explained to a lot of you the annoyance of buying things in stores and having a pile of trash that accompanies any grocery run. So, when you buy produce, you have to put it in a bag, even if it's just one lemon, it has to go in a bag so they can weigh it and put a sticker on it then staple it should so you have to rip the bag to open it and never be able to use it again. If you buy cookies, candies, or other processed food, be prepared to have to open normally one packet per two cookies. With chips, if you buy a Pringles can, you get two individually wrapped sections. You can even buy an individually wrapped, uncooked egg. Hey, no one ever accused the Chinese of overeating...

By the way, I did a Google Image search of individually wrapped eggs and I got images of Easter candy. Because there is no other time where one needs to individually wrap an egg. 

Roadside Fires                                                                                                          

No permit, no license, no problem. Just light your fire on the road and watch it burn. Or don't. You can leave your fire unattended and nothing happens.

Fire Escapes                                                                                                              

Many of our friends here teach at a school called English First, and they recently had a building fire. It was pointed out to me that EF doesn't have fire escapes, which got me wondering whether or not other buildings here had fire escapes. I haven't found one yet. To be fair, most of the buildings are just concrete slabs, which is are fairly difficult to set ablaze, but I'm going to go with not impossible.

Freelance Welding                                                                                                    

This one throws me for a loop. I think that, in America, we take safety to a ridiculous level, with hand sanitizer and uber-padding for kids who play sports, but I don't think that safety visors and gloves are superfluous for welding. But they do in China. Here, people weld sans gloves or safety visors ON THE SIDEWALK. I have been temporarily blinded several times by a freelance welder. 

Man Holes                                                                                                              

This isn't a huge one, but it's one worth noting. There are times when man holes need to be uncovered to do some work, and normally they are completely barricaded by flags or signs so people don't walk into them and fall into the sewer. China succeeds in barricading them partially but not fully. Plus, there are many man holes here that have small holes or loose areas where you probably wouldn't fall in but you might lose a shoe or get your foot stuck. These aren't marked at all. You just have to know.

The Water                                                                                                                

I'd take a picture of the river near our school or the river near our house, but I don't want to disgust you. Great, grey-green, greasy does not begin to describe the river, as we must add garbage, grim, grody, gruesome, and noxious. 

I'm not sure how purified the water is that we use in our shower, but my hair is falling out more than it ever has, my skin is dry and flaky, yet I'm breaking out, and unless I wash my hair everyday it gets noticeably greasy. At home, my hair doesn't get noticeably greasy until the third day.

The Air                                                                                                                     

Pretty much think of the water, but evaporate the liquid to a gas and add in car pollutants and then pump it directly into your lungs. 

The Pioneer Life

I went on a cooking spree tonight, which I am apt to do once in a while, particularly when the future-hubby is at work, and am moreso apt to do lately because I finally feel comfortable cooking with Chinese ingredients. We spent a lot of time in the first five months eating at restaurants - and we still do, because certain ones are dirt cheap - or eating chicken patty sandwiches, chicken nuggets, and broccoli with garlic. Now, broccoli has become rather inordinately expensive and I have grown particularly disgusted with the nuggety, breaded chicken. So, I've been investing - and by investing I mean spending the equivalent of about $10 - on huge bags of produce and seeing what I can make.

See, at home, I have more or less a luxury kitchen compared to what I have here, which is literally a hot plate and a toaster oven. At home I have 3.5 burners (one only works sporadically), an oven, a toaster oven, a juicer, a blender, counter space, and access to foods I'm comfortable with, like wheat-based noodles and veggie crumble (a soy protein mixture, which I often use in place of meat). Tonight, with two pans, my toaster oven, and my hot plate, I made five different dishes and a slew of dumplings.

Here, the nice thing is that I have no idea what things are, so I'm inclined to cook simply, which always makes me feel really superior about what I'm eating. The only thing I had difficulty with was the pumpkin. If anyone knows an easy (or at least moderately manageable) way to cut up a pumpkin and remove it from its rind, please make me privy to this information. Tonight I made:

Prapplesauce. I toyed with the idea of calling this aearplesauce or pearple sauce, but I like "prapplesauce." Ingredients: 4 apples, 1 pear, 1 cup of water (boiled, of course, T.I.C.), and 1/3 cup of brown sugar. Simmer and YUM.

Sautéed Zucchini and Carrots. Sliced thin and sautéed with a little bit of salt and some honey.

Zesty Pumpkin. For lack of a better name. It's pumpkin stir-fried with garlic and onions and a tablespoon or two of soy sauce. It tastes better than it sounds.

Cabbage Stew. Cabbage, lots of cabbage, simmered with one or two tablespoons of oil and about 1/4 of an onion.

Pumptato Hash Browns. I like the fusion foods. Shredded pumpkin and potato (more potato than pumpkin) fried up with some onion and garlic, and for good measure, I added some chopped up leftover chicken nuggets.

Dumplings. This was my first experience with dumplings, and thankfully I didn't have to make the shells. Our supermarket sells them pre-made in packages of, like, 30 for a little less 50¢. So I filled some up with the pumptatos and others with onions, garlic, and chopped up chicken nuggets, then put them in the toaster oven for about 10 minutes. Yields: 6,000. I have so many dumplings.