Although we have become, over time, somewhat cynical about our election process, we still value our privilege of voting.  Accordingly, we applied before we left home, for absentee ballots for this important mid term election.  Because we have often had trouble with the internet in China, we selected the option “paper ballot mailed to address given” instead of “internet ballot.”   In late September,  we received some ballots in the mail and were quite pleased.  However, when we opened them, we saw that they were for a school issue, and that the date was long past.  I contacted by e-mail the person in charge of absentee ballots, and she said that the paper ballots for the congressional election had been mailed September 15, but that we could change our preference to internet ballots if we wanted to.  I suggested we wait just a bit to see if the paper ones arrived, and I told her that beginning October 1, we were having a week of holiday in which no mail would be delivered.  October 8, everyone came back to school, and no mail for us.   The election lady was right on top of things and emailed me before I emailed her.  She sent the e-mail version of the ballots, but we could not vote by email, we had to print them out and send them in.  Good thing we brought our printer.

On Saturday morning, we printed out each ballot, keeping mine separate from Dear Husband’s, as directed.  The email included nine pages of instructions and two pages of the ballot itself.  In those nine pages were two that had to accompany the ballot.  We spent some time sorting through all this and setting the printer correctly for the ballots.  We had brought some envelopes from home so we put each ballot in an envelope and pasted the appropriate page onto the envelope.

Election lady had suggested we use Fed Ex to deliver the ballots.   I went online to find out if Fed Ex is in our city, and where?   After some frustration with the Chinese sites, I found the English site and saw the main cities listed, and ours was not among them.  However, I kept looking and found Fed EX in our city!   DH went over to school and asked our official to write out in Chinese what we had in English for an address.

We found a cab and showed the driver the address, and he agreed to go, so off we went into the gray haze of pollution, wearing our masks, clutching our envelope with the ballots.  We were in the cab a long time, but our official had said it would take at least half an hour, so we weren’t worried.  Looking out the window at all the traffic around us, I suddenly realized that the white truck ahead of us in the next lane had English letters on it, and they said, “FED EX.”  I mentioned this and Husband in the front seat pointed it out to the driver.  The driver grasped the idea and quickly pulled behind that truck and followed it to the FED EX building which is in an industrial park.  We were all delighted and the driver got out and talked with the Fed Ex driver to tell the tale while we went inside to mail the package.  It occurred to us that the FedEx truck might have been on a delivery and not going to the home base, but that was not the case.  In all our visits to China, we have never seen a Fed Ex truck on the road.

The young man in Fed Ex said he spoke “a little” English, which to our ears meant “enough.”  Still within the context, we had something to send and he was the sender so it wasn’t too difficult. We said, “FAST.”   I filled out the forms, got everything together into the mailer and paid the money, 283 rmb, which is $46.16.   The cab driver had enjoyed a break with the guys on the lot waiting for us to finish the business, realizing that we would need to go back, and that he would not likely find another fare from that place.  He started the meter again, and took us home.  Our total of the two fares was about $13.00.   Our total time to do all this was about four hours.  Today, Wednesday,  I received an e-mail from Election Lady that she had received the ballots, and that the package was sealed when she received it.  The paper ballots still have not arrived.

How about you, dear American reader?  Will you get in your car and go to the nearby election place to cast your ballot?

October 1 is National Day in China. It is the anniversary of the founding of The People’s Republic of China in 1949. The red and gold flag is everywhere and school is out, but the stores are open and busier than ever. We were sent as representatives of our school to a celebratory event on Monday
afternoon.

About 200 people were there, and we were two of five English teachers. I saw military people in full regalia, and I saw one man wearing what I would identify as a clerical collar, and another wearing a cap popular among Muslims, and still another wearing another kind of cap which seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Most of the men, though, were wearing western style business suits, and the women wore business clothes on the dressy side. The governor gave a longish speech in which he said, according to the interpreter seated next to me, that we can all work together for a bright future, and he said something about the revolution. Then there was a show including singers, acrobats, and people playing traditional instruments, all very loud and festive.
We were in a palatial building, with high (at least 30 feet) ceilings and ornate chandeliers which appeared to be fiber optic lights, although designed to look like classic crystal. I studied them as the governor was speaking, since I could not understand a word he said. I noticed as I looked around the room, that more than one person was looking at a phone, and texting, even though they could understand what was being said. I noted also that all the doors were closed, and standing by the doors, encircling the room, were various guards including army people. The whole event was filmed and photographed with intense lighting such as needed for television. Although we had been told it would include dinner, in fact there were only some snacks and a cup of tea. I remembered a student I had in Fuling who in class always wore an expression of intense interest and attention, even though his mind was far away. I saw the usefulness of such an expression, especially while being filmed, and I hope I carried it off.

We enjoy our young colleagues from UK, seven in all, two couples and three single people, all recent university graduates. They hadn’t met before this adventure, except of course, the couples. Apparently they all signed up with a recruiting company which hosted for them a training period in Beijing. They arrived here about a week before we did. They’re all still adjusting—I would call it culture shock, but they seem unaware. We’re adjusting too, but more on the “I had forgotten this” train of thought. They are taking photos right and left of things we barely see.
Rachel and Hannah invited me to go with them uptown on Saturday. Tim suggested he would go along, but I told him it was a girls’ day out. When I told Rachel, she said, “You’ve been married a long time, let’s have a break.” We split the taxi fare, unbelievably cheap by western standards, but I do think we could take a bus if we knew which one to take.
We went to H&M, a British store. It felt like home to them and they happily tried on clothes. I saw a lace top that I liked, and was surprised to see Rachel looking at the very same top on another rack. I said I would wear this over a tank top such as she was wearing, but she said “no, au naturel for me” and winked. I searched the store full of tiny clothes, and finally found a black long sleeved knit shirt, very soft like pima cotton, but I’m not certain of the fabric, and found an XL which fit nicely. It was only 99 rmb, about $14—a really good price I think. The girls called it a “jumper.” I saw some leather pants, and wondered about them. I see Chinese girls wearing such things. Just then Rachel saw them and said that I should get them—that’s what happens when you go out with the girls. No XL’s on that rack. Hannah was looking for a black skirt which she found. We tried on hats, we looked at scarves, we laughed. Rachel found a jumper, I’d call it a sweater, that fit her, but it had a snag on one sleeve. She bargained for a discount on that since there were no others in that size on the rack.
Then we went to Starbucks! We got sandwiches and tea. We sat inside on comfortable couches with a table between. We were in the window, so to speak, and Rachel suggested going outside, but I thought it was too hot, windy and noisy to go to the outside tables. I think Rachel wanted a cigarette, so she went out for that, while Hannah and I stayed inside. Then I bought a piece of chocolate cake and split it three ways, as evenly as I could guess. Rachel said she didn’t want to eat it all because then it would be gone and the wonder of it finished. We talked about life and love, as women together usually do, sitting there in the sunny day in Starbuck’s in China, all far from home, yet comforted together.
We proceeded to Walmart, where we found more familiar foods, albeit in the “import” (translate: expensive) section. We bought tuna packed in water instead of oil. I bought Reese’s peanut butter cups. They bought Coca-Cola. I bought some cotton bed sheets. I was looking for a large blanket, but the clerk managed to tell me, “Don’t have.” I bought more Twining’s tea. I now have Earl Grey, English breakfast, and Mint from Twining’s, and Jasmine which may be from a Chinese section of Lipton.
It was time to find another taxi and head for “home.” One problem, who had the address? To go anywhere, the girls show a picture on their I-phone, but they don’t have one of the school. So Hannah said in English, “#42 Middle School” and the driver said “OK” so we got in. I fished around in my bag to find my printed address for the school, and finding it, passed it to the driver who nodded. Rachel said, “Well done, you are such a Mother.”

In Fuling, six years ago, we searched for several weeks to find a toaster oven. We found one in late fall. Here we found a whole row of them in the local supermarket. We didn’t buy one, because it is readily available, we aren’t sure we want it this time, and we’re looking for other things. In 2009, we spent part of the winter holiday in Beijing, part in Shanghai. We searched the big city stores for cinnamon, which used to be a product of Vietnam. We found stick cinnamon, but no powdered form. Our friends sent a box that included a small tin of cinnamon. Here we found cinnamon in its familiar form, at the French store, in the imported foods section, in our first week here.
In Huanggang, we longed for butter which was not to be found in our area. One day our colleague went to Wuhan to visit friends. While there, he went to a supermarket, phoning us to say, “I found BUTTER” and brought some back to us. We used it so sparingly that we had some left at the end of our stay. Here, in our first visit to the supermarket we found butter, imported from New Zealand. We’re not so sparing with it, because it’s readily available, and we probably don’t need as much butter as we’re accustomed to using.
Here in Shijiazhuang, our two single beds have been pushed together and one large mattress put on them. A sheet was on this bed, a sheet that fit it, when we arrived, something one does not take for granted here. Now the weather is getting colder, and I am searching for a blanket that will fit this bed. I assume that if a mattress of a certain size exists, the bedding for it must exist also. I would assume that because I am an American. The local supermarket does not have anything that size, so we went to the Carrefor, a French store, which in Shanghai, for example, is quite deluxe. We had been there before, so when we arrived again, one of the salesladies got a manager who spoke English. I explained the size I wanted to this young man who really wanted to be helpful. I learned from him that “Chinese people go to the supplier and have things custom made.” I didn’t get the word on where these suppliers might be.
Long ago, my mom told me to keep one thing, a small thing, that would make me feel “at home” wherever I go. In the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, this one thing for the Ingalls family was the china shepherdess, an elegant figurine so out of place in the frontier homes. Over time, it’s been a challenge for me to feel “at home” anywhere, maybe because I couldn’t keep that one small thing from place to place. Still, I fix my mind on a few things that would make life easier, and part of  my focus is on the search for these things. For now, that main item is the wool comforter for winter, in a size that will fit our bed.
It took me a while, but I found the manicurist here. So, although I do not have a blanket that fits, I do have cinnamon, Hershey’s cocoa, and sparkly nails. Maybe one should revel in being “not home” instead of striving to find home where it can’t be found.

Good Afternoon! Welcome to the 2014 – 15 Academic Year at #42 Shijiazhuang Middle School, also known as Hebei International School. We the foreign teachers welcome you to the adventure of learning English, Italian, and Japanese language and culture. When we study a foreign language, we enhance our appreciation of our native language, we open ourselves to new ways of thinking, and we develop new understanding of the world beyond our own neighborhoods.
We have travelled from our own countries, Japan, Italy, England, and USA, to embark with you on this great adventure in the life of the mind. We’ll meet some storms, some doldrums, and some wonderful breezes. Through it all we’ll sail on. We will seem different from your Chinese teachers, because we are. We have different assumptions, different expectations, and different styles. But we are the same as your Chinese teachers in this way, we all want to help you to grow and learn what you need to know to develop your own lives.
Are you ready for this adventure? If you’re scared, it’s a sign you know that big things are ahead. If you’re confident, it’s a sign you’ll be tested. We’re all “in the same boat” and together we’ll sail.
Onward then, let’s go.

Monday, September 1, was a clear, bright and windy day. We the foreign teachers gathered in the Foreign Affairs Office at 2:15 in preparation for the special opening ceremony to be held at 2:30. We were each given a little plastic stool, and we walked together to the playing field where we were to sit in one front corner. John, The Foreign Affairs Officer, said to me, “Julia, you must sit on the stage with the other speakers.” So, off I went to climb the stairs to the stage set on one long side of the field. I took my place behind the long desk, on a chair with a back, between two people who spoke no English. They greeted me with smiles.
The students began to come to the field, carrying their little plastic stools. They assembled in lines and rows, packed very close together. All the students wear the same uniform, lavender pants with gold stripe down the leg, matching long sleeved jackets with the stripe on the sleeve. (We might call these “warm up suits” in the USA.) The boys wear blue polo shirts, and the girls wear white blouses with wide round collars edged in brown and white checked fabric. The boys have very short hair, almost a “buzz cut” as we used to say. The girls also have short hair, but wear bangs. The haircuts are specified as part of the uniform. One Chinese teacher told our colleague, “It’s so the boys don’t fall in love with the girls.”
I looked out at the six thousand students, all with short black hair, all wearing the same uniform. At a command from the person in charge, all turned and stooped to set the stools down, staying in that position until the next command, which allowed them all to sit. The front row students, presumably the best ones, wore red sashes with gold lettering. These were somewhat in charge of their lines. I thought of a time I went to Stone Mountain, Georgia for an evening concert. There were thousands of people there, spreading blankets and lawn chairs on the ground. No one gave any commands, but people formed rows and aisles anyway.

I had to listen carefully as the ceremony started, and people who were introduced, stood up and smiled. Just as I wondered, “What if I don’t recognize my name?” I heard my name, Julia, and stood up and smiled. After everyone was introduced, the speeches began. When people applauded, I clapped too, though I had no idea what had been said. Was I imagining it, or can you actually tell from the sound of applause whether it is simply polite, or heart felt? I learned that I was sitting next to the Head of School who gave a long speech. During this speech I looked out again at the crowd, amazed how they all looked alike, and how this was by design. As I kept looking though, I noticed the one distinct difference between the students, the one part of personal expression, their shoes. Red, blue, neon green, orange, black, white, Nikes, Converse, athletic shoes, stylish shoes, traditional shoes.
After several speeches, I was called to give mine. John was there—I hadn’t noticed when he arrived— on the stage, and we each took a microphone. We had practiced together, line by line, so I had to stick strictly to the written speech so he could translate. The wind was blowing the paper I held in one hand, while I held the microphone in the other. I was wearing my white dress with blue lotus flowers, and my blue hat to protect my face from the sun. I considered briefly taking off my hat and waving it, but my hands were full. I was afraid the wind would blow my hat away, but it didn’t. The speech was about 2 minutes, about 5 with translation added. I spoke s—l—-o—w—l—y, and John spoke in Mandarin fast.
We received applause, returned to our seats, and the ceremony went on. Given the context, I could guess that everyone said wonderful things about our school, and gave a pep talk about all doing our best. “Happy to be here, welcome to another great year….” What else is ever said at such events? At the end, an assistant principal spoke with me, praising the speech, and starting a conversation. I felt that day, that we were off to a good start.

Read the speech in the next post.

On Friday morning, we expected to take a quick shuttle to the airport with our many bags.  But, the shuttle driver said, “There’s been a terrible accident on the road to the airport, and that road is closed.  You’ll be taking the train.  Get in the van.”

We loaded our bags and took our seats.  Then a lady came to the van and sat in the front seat.  She uses this shuttle everyday to go to work at the airport.  She said she would help us with the train.  She used her own card to get us quickly through the turnstile, thus paying for our fare.  She carried some of the bags, and led the way.  At one escalator, I didn’t know how I would get on while balancing all my bags.  Another man came up and offered to take my bag.  I was a bit concerned, since that bag held my passport, wallet, and computer, money, food and medication, all the irreplaceable stuff.  Hesitating only a moment, I gave him my bag, and off we went.  At the top, he gave it back to me, all intact.  Anyone who has traveled anywhere knows how foolish this would have sounded to a policeman, if the man had taken my bag and run.  But such was the situation that I trusted the man, and he proved trustworthy.  We crammed onto the train, and got to the airport.  Then the lady walked us all the way to our gate, carrying some of our luggage for us.  She smiled and said it was her workout for the morning.  She did all this wearing high heeled shoes.

We got to our gate and waited for the plane to Toronto. When we arrived in Toronto, there was supposed to be only a short time between flights, so we hurried to the next gate, only to learn that then next flight was delayed.  So we ate lunch in the Toronto airport.  We ordered two hamburgers, and one order of sweet potato fries.  I paid with a  $50.00 bill. (United States Dollars)  I received  $26.00 Canadian dollars in change!  Even though the food was delicious and a large serving, it was the most expensive hamburger we’ve ever had.

It was a long flight, 12 hours, and we arrived two hours late.   Since the school had a group of students returning from a trip, we waited another hour for them to arrive, and then got on a tour bus for the four hour trip to our school.  We arrived at midnight Saturday.   We were shown to our apartment, where the bed was ready for us, and we were ready for the bed!

On the next morning, we had a meeting to learn our schedules, and meet our colleagues.  I was asked to give a speech for opening ceremony Monday afternoon, and to turn it in Monday morning so the FAO could translate it.   I’ll post the speech separately.

Thanks to all who have helped us on our way.  We’re here, we’re working, and we’re happy.

Remember the John Denver song: Leaving On A Jet Plane?
“My bags are packed, I’m ready to go…..”
I wish I could say the same, but alas! I am not ready. Nevertheless, the day will come, Friday, to be exact, when we are leaving, ready or not. I keep having distractions, such as going to the doctor, finishing the gardening, and meeting friends. All wonderful, but not getting the clothes into the suitcase.

Last night I dreamed we were at a train station, in Toronto, which is on our way to China, and we had no bags at all.
Dear Husband asked, “Where are the bags?” and I answered, “They’re in the car.”
“Where is the car?” he asked, and I said, “Back there somewhere.”
The meaning of the dream is clear: I’m NOT ready, and I’d better take action now.
How hard is it, one may ask, to put things into a suitcase? Well, it isn’t easy when there is a weight limit, and a bag limit, and when your journey is for one year, and you want teaching materials as well as clothes, and you are an American and “need” 17 tee shirts, for example, and when you are too large a person to be able to find anything in a Chinese market, so you must bring everything.
I have a long list, so as not to forget anything, and I’m doing laundry, so everything is clean, and I’m moving things to the attic, so as to clear out a dresser for the person staying in our house while we are gone. On Friday, we’ll get in the car with some bags, and we’ll probably forget something after all, but it won’t really matter. One of our friends, a teacher, said, “The most important thing you have is your brains.” They’ll come along no matter what.

We have TEN Days left until we leave.  We have many tasks to accomplish, not least of which is packing up our bags.  I’ve started, but it is difficult.

I’ve been thinking though, that packing is like writing, and writing like packing.  First step, think about what the situation will be and what you need for it.  Then make a list, for packing, or a sort of outline for writing.  Next, put out everything you think you want to pack and look at it.  Then put about half of that back in the closets or drawers.  For writing, free write your thoughts,  do a “save as” document, and delete roughly half of it.

Next step, think some more.  How many pairs of slacks, jeans, shorts, do I really need for the duration of the trip?  Really?   Put some more away.  Imagine a day in the life, and think about each item you use, from your toothbrush, don’t forget that, to your hat for the sun and other weather, down to your socks and hiking boots.   Do you need anything new or specific, better get that now.   In the writing process, do more research, ask yourself, “Am I going on and on and on til the reader is lost?”

OK, now go back to the drawers and make some exchanges, the lighter weight slacks instead of the heavier ones, or vice versa.  Think about dressing up or down, and do you have some clothes for cleaning the apartment?   In the writing project, are you being true to the story, or are you leaving out the dirty work?  Do you want to take a necklace, or not?  How much do you want to dress up, literally, or in your writing?

Start putting stuff in the suitcase, the carry on bag, and the purse.  Get out the scales.  Weigh everything.   Cut, drop and/or add some more.  In writing, review, revise, rewrite.   Count the words.   Ask for advice from other travelers, or other writers, or editors.

Finally the day will come, when ready or not, it’s time to go.  What you have is what you’ll take.  No more decisions, just go.  In writing, the deadline approaches.  The editor is not looking for perfection, but for something on a certain day.

So, that’s what I’m thinking about today.  How about you?

Today I slept later than I planned and went outside about 9:30 in the morning. It was already hot and I knew the plants needed water. I recently planted a new hydrangea which was looking wilted. I’ve been watering it, but it just hasn’t perked up. Today I realized that the dirt had washed away from the roots, so they were exposed to the heat. I added more dirt and watered thoroughly. We’ll see if this helps. Dear Husband is preparing more paths for me. He is particular about the measurements, so he felt the need to move an established bed, just a few inches, he said. But, some of the wood is rotted and fell apart in the moving, and some plants were destroyed in the moving of dirt. Nevertheless, I am grateful for his work. By myself, I would have used fewer stones for the path and added more filler.
Last year we bought enough quick concrete to make the whole path, but the weather got cold too soon. We thought we had protected the bags, but they got wet anyway, and all that concrete is ruined, that is to say, hardened in the bags. We hope to lay the concrete tomorrow, if it isn’t raining. Today, in spite of the heat, DH is laying the sand and leveling the ground. I hope he doesn’t wilt in the heat.
Holding the hose and wetting the ground, I picked and ate green beans from one bed and snow peas from another. Last week we had cool weather which persuaded those peas to keep on. They are producing way later than usual. I also have lots of cilantro, now gone to seed, dill, basil and parsley. The blueberries are producing a handful of berries, but they are not sweet. We have to work on building their soil. They are tiny bushes. The raspberries seem to be done. I might make one more rhubarb pie, but then let those plants alone.
I received a fall planting catalog today, but I won’t be ordering, because we are leaving again. Still it’s fun to learn more about bulbs. It reminded me of the lecture last week in which a writer said that we, like the bulbs, need seasons of dormancy in order to produce some flowers in season. The dormant period is a time of growing, the catalog people stressed, and so did the writer.
Enjoy what sun you can, eat your vegetables, preferably while standing in the garden, and write on!