Christina in China

When the Christmas season was approaching, I was afraid, really afraid that I was going to sink into a funk and have a hard time climbing out again. I’ve been really surprised that this hasn’t been the case at all.

If anything, I feel like I’ve almost been showered with blessing. With Christmas songs at church that are translations of the old favorites from home. With new ways to look at the Christmas scriptures. With a tiny Christmas tree, tinsel, a stocking, a mini-nativity scene, and a stocking inherited from previous foreign teachers. With Andrew Peterson’s Behold the Lamb of God CD that’s kind of in constant rotation at my place. With a gift of a Chinese knot from Sharry. With the hilarity of teaching a Christmas play to my freshmen students. Most of all, with good wishes from students and coworkers and friends.

I did my Christmas play with my freshmen all week. By Friday’s last class, Class 2, I had the thing pretty much down pat. I had a student write the Chinese translations of new words on the board (virgin, God, stable, manger, angel, bless) and told the students how they should act the play. And then they performed it, my play that I adapted to big classes, with 25 narrators, 7 shepherds, three different angels. I borrowed props (daoju, as Miss Liu, one of the headteachers taught me) from Eunice’s apartment: three plastic stools to be the manger, a gray blanket for swaddling cloths, a little girl doll dressed in red Chinese silk to be Jesus, three candles for the wise men’s gifts, a piece of gold tinsel for an angel halo. “Wassay!” said the students as I walked into the room.

And, in a freshman oral English at Jiangyou Normal sort of way, Class 2’s performance was wonderful. Athletic, volleyball-playing Rachel was a good Mary, acting surprised when the angel spoke to her, stroking Jesus on the head while we sang “Away in a Manger.” Soft-spoken Nikki was a wonderful Joseph, reflectively saying her line about not wanting to embarrass Mary. All three angels (creative license on my part) wore their halo, spoke loudly, and waved their arms, as the class demanded. “Fei, fei, fei! Fly, fly, fly!” said the students, laughing. The wise men came on cue. The shepherds crowded at the front of the room, and Franklin, the boy with pretty good English whom the girls secretly tell me they think is handsome, looked astonished as the angel appeared.

Most of my Chinese friends say that Christmas is the same as Spring Festival, the Chinese New Year. “Chabuduo,” I say. “Almost.” There’s no nativity for Spring Festival, but there is the element of family reunion, which they think is the most important part. That and the fact that their parents give them money.

It’s a good comparison for them, and I think that it’s what makes them dote on us foreigners during the season. I think they imagine being away from their families on Spring Festival, and the thought doesn’t appeal to them.

Dean Zhao is one of those people who likes to take care of foreigners on Christmas. It’s a Christmas tradition for Mr. Zhao to cook a huge dinner for us and invite some of the English teachers over to talk to us. This year, it was at Mr. Zhao’s house in Zhong Ba. So Eunice, Hugh, and I, along with Ms. Xiong, Ms. Xiao, Mr. Long, and Mr. Huang, all English teachers rode the school teachers’ bus to Mr. Zhao’s house near a place called Maluwan. The Canadian teacher at the middle school, Carmen; his son, Denny; and his sister, Debby, were there, too. And Mr. Zhao’s wife, Zhang Ye; his daughter; Mr. Li (the assistant head of the department); and Mr. Li’s wife. So a big crowd.

Normally, these kinds of big crowd dinners, with lots of toasting and such, make me nervous. But this was as close to an American get-up-and-mingle-party as I’ve seen in China, and maybe they did that intentionally. In any case, it was wonderful. I made jiaozi with Ms. Xiao, her putting in the meat filling with chopsticks and crimping the edges, me trying to learn, both of us talking back in forth in a strange mix of Chinese and English.

Mr. Zhao’s dog, Hei Bin (which, I think, means “black ice,” but I could definitely be wrong), decided that the most fun thing was to hump my leg for like twenty minutes. To which I decided that I needed to chastise the dog in Chinese. “Haiyou liang ge laowai! (Hey, there are two other foreigners here!)” I told Hei Bin, which made everyone laugh and say that I was making progress in my Chinese. Ah, low expectations…

Mr. Zhao and Zhang Ye made hotpot, the singularly most famous Sichuan dish. There are different kinds of hotpots (Mongolian, to name one), but Sichuan hotpot is what people mean when they say huoguo around here. A big frothing pot of dark red oil and water liquid, with Sichuan lajiao floating on the top. People add the vegetables and meat, and then you fish it out with your chopsticks, dip it in your bowl of vinegar and garlic and green onion, and eat it, bite after deliciously spicy bite. Tonight, we had lamb, three kinds of mushrooms, lotus root, potato, seaweed (haidai in Chinese–literally “sea belt”), carrot, and lettuce heart. Plus, we had some delicious shrimp, which had the feelers and eyes still on it, so of course, I had to move its feelers and make it talk. “Hello,” I said, waving the feelers. “Ni hao.”

“Gosh, we can’t take you anywhere,” said Hugh, rolling his eyes.

We had crab, too, little crabs that Miss Xiao taught me how to eat. And homemade chun juar, spring rolls, with spicy vegetables in the middle. And lazi ji, chicken with lots of hot green peppers and mushrooms in it. Fruit salad.

The conversation was good–light-hearted holiday conversation with the people there. Talking about students with slightly shy Mr. Huang, who teaches English composition and Japanese. Laughing with pregnant Ms. Xiong, who wore Eunice’s red Santa hat all evening, which looked funny with her blue sweatpants and sherbet-colored Korean maternity coat. She continually filled her plate. (“I have to eat more for my baby,” she always explains.) Small talk with the Canadians. Introductions with the Chinese speakers. A lot of, “Zhege dongxi zenme shuo?” (“How do you say this in Chinese?”) on my part. Toasting, but short, good-natured toasting, with the foreigners saying, “Shengdan kuaile! Xinnian kuaile!” and the Chinese saying “Merry Christmas! Happy New Year!”

Perhaps the great triumph of the evening was having a conversation of more than two words with Mr. Zhao. Granted, some of my Chinese had to be translated into understandable Chinese, but this man has the thickest Sichuan accent ever, and just to understand complete sentences of what he’s saying is a gift. And there they were, as if the language static in my head had cleared like the pollution and fog over Jiangyou clears after a rain. Mr. Zhao talking about how Yuandan (Western New Year) and Xinnian (Chinese New Year) weren’t the same, telling me that Josh & I could go to Emei Shan, saying how the countryside often used the nongli (lunar calendar).

I may not have said much in response, and I definitely didn’t speak much beautiful Chinese, but I got to say one of the most wonderful things an American in China can say: “Wo ting dong.”

I understand.

In Chinese, I tell Ms. Zhang, Mr. Zhao’s wife, that their house is very big and beautiful and thank her for letting me come. She asks me about my Chinese name, and I tell her that it is close to my English last name.

“Tao Le,” she says. “Le tao tao.”

I consider smiling and nodding but instead ask a question. “Le tao tao…shi shenme yisi?” I ask. “What does it mean?”

She smiles. “Kai kai xin xin de yisi.” (Very very happy.)

“It’s a good name,” says Ms. Xiao in English. I nod, and three of us get into a taxi to go home. As I listen to Mr. Huang banter with the thick-accented taxi driver, certain words jump out at me, but I don’t grasp for them. I just sit there, letting them fall around me, listening to them speak, listening to the strange, raucous beauty of this language that I barely know.

* * * * *

This week, I have gotten (count ’em!) fourteen Christmas cards from students and one from Dean Zhao, my boss. Incredible. I came back tonight, and there were six more of them, slid under my door by students who had come to my house to watch a movie and found that I wasn’t home. They’re absolutely wonderful. Here are the messages (all messages as they are):

————–

Miss Turner,
Merry Christmas to you! Wish you the blessings of a beauiful Christmas season. At this Christmas season and throughout the New Year, may you be blessed with every happiness!

Yours,
Xenia

————–

Dear Christina,
It’s my pleasure of knowing you. The time we shared together is aways wonderful. We have learned anther interesting culture and custom from you. Thank you for giving us so much happyness and knowledge.
Wish you a good Christmas!
Happy everyday!

Your sincerely,
Dale

————–

To Christina:
At Christmas and forever, may peace and love fill your heart beauty fill your world; and contentment and joy fill your days.
I hope you hear my wispers for blessing and happiness with Santa Claus fall down and surround you forever.
Forget to ask you: are you well and healthy? My greeting is knocking your beautiful door now just for this Christmas Eve, regardless of Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, and regardless of cloudy, sunny, windy and rainy day…!

Yours,
Zola

————–

Christina:
Merry Christmas!
Happy New Year!
We wish you become more and more beautiful! And everything goes on very well! Thank you for your teaching!

Yours,
Joelle, Elaine, Barara, Olivia

————-

Christina:
Bless Christmas! I wish silver chorus in church strikes your beautiful skirt lightly and you can feel my quiet and peaceful love in it!

From: Candy

————

To my best teacher, Christina

Merry Christmas!
Happy New Year!

From: Virginia and Rachel

————

Dear Christina:
China is a beautiful country.
I hope you like it and like me.
I’m happy to make friends with you!
I hope you have good days in China!
I hope you are more and more beautiful!
I wish you: Happy everyday!
Happy New Year!
Merry Christmas!

Your student:
Tessa

———–

To Christina:
I hope everything goes well and Merry Christmas! My English is not well. May I ask a favor of you?

Your student:
Amanda

———–

To Christina:
Wish you merry Christmas!

from yours:
Christine

———–

Dear Christina,
Thank you for giving me classes. I like you speaking English very much. You are a kind teacher and friend for us. Best wishes to you.
Merry Christmas!
Happy New Year!
Happy Every Day!

yours student & friend,
Rain

———–

To Christina:
I hope you are happy everyday! Merry Christmas to you!

Veronica

———-

Dear Christina,
Wishing you and those around you a very merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year. Thank you for your hard working and devotion.

Mianyang Elementary Education College
12.23.2005

———-

Tao Le:
Christina,
Merry Christmas! (Shengdan kuaile!)
Happy New Year! (Xinnian kuaile!)
Smile Everyday! (Weixiao mei yi tian!)
I wish you will become more and more beautiful!
You are really a good teacher, I love you with my heart! I’m very lucky to be your student and friend.

From Cherfin

———-

To Christina:
Merry Christmas!
Happy Everyday!
It’s my privilege of knowing you, also it’s a beautiful surprise. I can feel you kind-hearted and pretty from your sweet smile. How wonderful this time was! We went to your warm house to watch film, chat, eat sun-seeds and sweets. Way to go!
That you see the card at the second time may be in America. In any way, I’ll rember you for ever. So will you, ok?

From your sincerely,
Tanya

———

I have to say that the last two made me cry almost. I’m sure that when I’m back in the U.S. and am reading them someday, I probably will cry, remembering these girls and the effort they took to write a note in their second language to me. I used to wonder how I would make it through Christmas and the whole adjusting to China bit without constantly wishing I could go home.

And now I find myself wondering how I’m going to be able to leave.

Somehow, every Chinese English speaker in Jiangyou must have compared notes and decided on a couple sentences to say to me this week: “Christina, Christmas is coming. How will you spend your Christmas Day?” and “The weather is getting colder and colder!”

Okay, so I’m using a bit of hyperbole. But still. I’ve been asked this at least ten times in the past four days. I’m wondering if this is a typical Chinese way of saying this. I don’t know, since I only have about three people that will talk to me in Chinese on a semi-regular basis.

My answer? “I don’t know yet.” Honestly, I’m just trying to grade all of these listening exercises, write out final exam study sheets, write a Christmas play, get copies at the printing house, do lesson prep, and keep up with my Chinese study, which I feel like has stalled for this semester. And wash my clothes. And stuff.

Christmas is on a Sunday this year, so I luckily don’t have to go to class on Christmas Eve OR Christmas Day, which is quite nice. Eunice and I will go to the church in Zhong Ba on Sunday morning and then will probably want to watch the program. (They asked her if she wanted to dance and wave flowers as part of the Christmas program, but she firmly declined.) Then, who knows? I’m getting worse and worse at planning ahead. The only thing I want to do anymore is sleep, really. Break is coming soon–one more week of classes and then final exams.

For some reason, my Chinese classes were canceled unexpectedly today, so I spent the day finding cheap books to buy for the CEE library off Amazon.com and writing a Christmas play for my freshmen. Ever tried to explain the virgin birth in words accessible to freshman ESL learners? Not tremendously easy. I failed miserably on Wednesday. I know I lost them because at least seven of them started text-messaging on their cellphones. We’re going to act the play in my classes next week. This week, we’re learning to gracefully say goodbye and learning “Away in a Manger,” which they say is a beautiful song.

Speaking of grace, or more appropriately lack thereof, today I was drying my clothes inside the house in my library and forgot to take them down. No big deal, you think. The library is, after all, the warmest room in my apartment. I didn’t think at all about until two boys were INSIDE the library choosing books, and Future, one of the four-year sophomores shot me a worried look. Oh well. It was more convenient (and face-saving) for me to pretend that a rack of my bras and underwear was not hanging up in the library right beside the notebook for them to check out books. So I may have completely lost face and perpetuated the stereotype of the “loose Western woman” with the boys of Class 1. Who knows when I’ll get another visit.

“Oh, well,” I tell Future. “I forgot.”

She pauses. “I think it’s okay.”

This week Eunice dug up some Christmas decorations that were hand-me-downs from other foreign teachers and gave them to me. So Sugar, Future, and ANOTHER girl named Future helped me decorate my living room–tinsel on the lampshade, the water cooler, and the doorframe; stocking on the hook on the door; beads and ornaments and a star on the foot-and-a-half tall Christmas tree; nativity scene on the table. Sugar tried to hang Mary, Jesus, and the angel on the tree by their halos, and I said (in a fairly Chinese fashion, I later realized), “No, no, no, no! You can’t put it there!”

Eunice also found two Santa hats with white braids hanging from them, so you look like Mrs. Claus. Or shengdan nuhaizi (“Christmas girl”) as Chen Fang put it yesterday. I wore one and made the other girls take turns wearing the other. They then decided that the boys should wear it. We laughed. I sang “Lean on Me” and “Hero” by Mariah Carey at Sugar’s request, and Sugar taught me the chorus to a song called “Ai Wo Haishi Ta” (“Love Me or Him”) by a Taiwanese singer named Tao Zhe (?).

I’m being taken to sing KTV (to go karaoke-ing) with my Monday advanced conversation group. Eight of us in a room eating shao kao and then singing a mishmash of Chinese and English songs sounds like a good way to spend a Saturday night to me.

So apart from the intelligent boys of class one seeing my skivvies, it’s been a good week.

Ho ho ho.