Daily life has presented challenges to me this year, and sometimes I have felt like packing up and leaving.  It’s always easy to slide into the pits but difficult to climb out.  But I think this one comment will guard me from the descent for a long time.

My freshman student from last term came to me at “English Corner” a time set aside for informal conversation, and said, “Although you are not my teacher any more, I want to say that I am grateful to you, because you made sure we could understand you.  You helped us learn English and you made it fun.  You have stepped into my heart and I will never forget you.”

This week I am drawing on the board in my classroom a cartoon drawing of two towns and a space between.  Really just a few lines and rectangles will represent the buildings and a few  half circles and triangles will give roof lines.  Then a road in front and a little car reminiscent of a VW Bug will give a feeling of motion.  In the space between, some lines to show trees and underbrush.  It’s amazing what you can do with a little chalk, and a bonus if some of it is colored.

I ask the students to tell me a story about the picture and they actually see what I have drawn: two towns, a road, a forest, and a car moving along from one town to another.  The problem is the car has to go through those woods to get to the other town.

Next, I put names on the towns: first town “Chinese” other town  “English” and the woods between?  “Chinglish” a necessary step between the two languages.  It is, among other things,  Chinese forms or syntax with English words, and English words, but not the best ones for the situation.  I hope that my students will move quickly through the woods and arrive at the next town.

My problem is that I enjoy some of the creativity that comes from being in those woods.  “It’s a happiness thing” appeared in an essay recently.  I think it’s an “error” but it reminds of a certain famous person who spoke this way.  Then I read this one: “we played cards, loudly laughed, and totally happied.”   I’m obligated to “correct” this, but I think it is quite clear, fresh and fun.  What more can we ask of language?

Today is Lantern Festival, the 15th day of New Year, and the end of the big celebration.  We have heard fireworks every morning and every evening for all these days, but apparently, these were just the precursor to tonight’s grand finale.  It does sound like war.  We are not hearing a few children with a few fire crackers. Nor are we hearing a town’s controlled and limited show, such as we have in USA.  We are hearing serious, continual explosives, and seeing the lights in the sky, and smelling that burning smell.  For me, it’s unnerving.

I heard on Beijing CCTV News, that people do this to scare away evil spirits.  If this is truly the case, there must be a powerful fear of these spirits. When I speak with young people such as our students, I hear that they don’t know anything about this aspect.  They just enjoy the festive lights.  A few young women have admitted to not liking fireworks, but that so goes against the tradition that they would not admit it to their peers.

I also heard that Beijing is considering a ban on fireworks, because people are realizing there are some safety issues.  The prevailing view among those interviewed, though, was that they like the fireworks, and you can’t ban a tradition so long standing as this one.

Chinese people set off fireworks when a new baby is born, when someone dies and for the funeral rites, when a new business opens, when a new building is opened, when people get married, when there is a birthday party, start of something, end of something, any celebration—any time is a good time for fireworks.

I carry with me, though, the memory of my dad, a decorated veteran of WWII, lying on a blanket in the park with us, his five little kids, during Fourth of July celebrations.  He told me he didn’t enjoy fireworks—-they were too much like the real thing.

A year ago at this time, when snow covered all my world, I was sitting in my study at my computer, happily searching garden topics.  I planned and re-planned my backyard.  I studied and shopped.  I bought the Square Foot Garden book and read it carefully. I talked with Dear Husband and Daughters — garden, garden, garden — was my whole conversation.  I devoted myself to my garden.  A garden is performance art, visual art, and musical art. The harvest: food for the body, food for the mind,  food for the spirit.

This year I am sitting in my study at my computer, but in China. I long for my garden, it’s time to start planning, and even planting with protection.  Chinese people plant gardens in any available piece of ground.  I see gardens along a fence, or in a little space outside an apartment, on a balcony, or on a roof.  I have no tools or supplies to follow their example.

This year I have a different garden—one of the mind and heart.  I’m nurturing people instead of plants.  I’m using language instead of soil.  I’m listening to students instead of birds, insects and wind.  I have classrooms, not raised garden beds.  I’m considering compositions, not compost. Last year, I left the garden before the final harvest.  This year, I will too.

Our friends tried to buy bus tickets the day before we were to go, but it was not allowed.  We had to get them the very day we wanted to go.  We got up around 8 am and proceeded directly to the station where thousands of people were already in line to buy tickets.  We kept saying, “Should we get in line?” but the girls said, “Not yet.”  After about 10 minutes, Dear Husband and Cousin got in line, while I proceeded with our hostess to a point in the line where a policeman was guarding the crowd and keeping order.  I do not know what she said to him, he said, “NO.”  There were several exchanges, but she stood there in front of him.  He tried to ignore her, but eventually he waved us on, into the actual building where the tickets were sold.  Now we went right up, almost to the ticket window.  Our girl tried sweet talking a few people who resisted her charm, but finally, an older gentleman let her cut in line ahead of him.  And thus we got our tickets for the 10:00 am bus.  We had to go back out the door to motion to Husband and Cousin to come forward, they had made considerable progress in line, I thought.  I learned that they had received “cuts” to get started.

Having arrived at the station around 9 am, we had done well to get those tickets by 9:40.  We went out to the bus loading place and found our bus and got on.  But, when the driver checked the tickets, we learned that this was the 9:50, not the 10 o’clock bus.  So, we got off and waited some more.  Our bus finally left at 11:00 am.  Our hostess went along with us, in case there would be any problems at the other end.  Truly, she went the extra mile.

We arrived RongChang at 1:00 pm. and our next host was there at the station, ticket in hand for our girl, so she could proceed to her destination for the day.  These former students with their cell phones kept the trip smooth for us–the three of them were in continual communication.  We proceeded to our hotel — just for one night, we can change tomorrow — and to lunch with the extended family.  We met the baby born last year at this time, grandma and grandpa, whom we had met at the wedding, and some uncles, aunts and cousins.  It was a delicious meal in a restaurant near their home.

Grandpa and Grandma purchased this home about 10 years ago, we were told, when their daughter was in late high school.  She knows this apartment as the house for the holidays.  The family gathers there every New Year.  The extended family lives in that town.  Grandma lives with our friend and takes care of the baby.  Grandpa lives near the coal mine where he works. His brother owns the mine. No one lives in the apartment full time.

Our friend invited us to come to the family gathering at this home of his in-laws.  We asked if he was sure that was acceptable to the family, and he said he was certain.  He cited a precedent when he had another foreign guest there for the celebration.  And so we arrived and were received.  We wanted to play with the baby, and converse with the adults.  The baby was scared and the adults weren’t interested.  It was cold in the apartment; we wore our coats, hats and scarves and left our shoes on, but these did not warm the atmosphere. On the third day, the baby warmed to us enough to let us hold her.

On the day before the actual New Year Eve celebration dinner, our host informed us with anger, frustration, and tears, that we were not welcome to attend the dinner, or to go to the apartment any more.  He wanted to flee that city and take us to his own home to celebrate properly.  We said that he belonged with his wife and child, and that since it was not our holiday anyway, we would be fine on our own.

Our host brought food over for us and sometimes took us to noodle houses.  There was an Englishman staying in the same hotel, the one we changed to on the second day.  We had some interesting conversations with him.  We walked a little bit around the neighborhood, and then stayed in the hotel watching the New Year’s Gala on tv.  This is a “big deal” in China.  It has been broadcast for 30 years on New Year’s Eve.  Everyone talks about it.  I watched for 2 hours, and there was not a single ad in that time.  It is an extravaganza of dance, singing, skits, comedy, and family sentiment.  It started at 8 and went on and on.  The next day, it was rebroadcast, in case anyone missed any of it.  Fireworks exploded all through that night, and are still going on.  Our host and his wife were able to visit us a little at a time, so we had some satisfying conversations.

Although the hotel boasted three stars, there was mold on the walls and the carpet was dirty.  We didn’t see any vacuum cleaners with the maids on duty.  The blanket was a feather bed, a fact which escaped my notice until the last day.  It has rained every day in that territory all winter.  It was dark, cold, and dreary.  All this combined for some asthma events, and a continual congestion.  I’m still not fully recovered, but our air filter, vacuum cleaner and heater are all helpful.  Our weather here in Hubei is often sunny and bright, so I’m happy to be here and not there.