WTB: Day 3, Reuters/ New Friends

Despite the morning fog, Monday quickly became a beautiful day. The sky stayed thick with smog all day, and I could taste the dust in the air by nightfall, but I will always remember that day because I saw more of true Beijing living in that evening than I did the rest of the time we were there.

We began our morning in the Beijing offices of the Thomson Reuters news agency, a tall building
which seemed to be composed of nothing but windows. The desktops in each office were cluttered with papers and files, as desks in newspaper offices are wont to do.

Our gracious host, foreign correspondent Terril Jones, led us around the office and spoke to us in a lounge with wall-to-wall windows and a soda machine. It was a beautiful office space, even somewhere I could've seen myself working, if not for its 3,000-mile distance from all the things I love.

Still, it was an enticing building, with walls so shiny white and clean that it was hard to leave. We had a small lunch at Costa in the building's lobby, eating coffeehouse sandwiches and sipping hot macchiatos. I sat with two other girls, and we chatted for almost an hour about future life goals and our college/ personal lives. It was a relaxing afternoon break amid our busy schedule.

Following lunch, we boarded the bus again, heading for Tsinghua University, or what has been dubbed by some "the Harvard of Beijing." The campus definitely lived up to this title...while I've never toured Harvard, I imagine the gorgeous (bare) tree-lined bike paths and breathtaking architecture of Tsinghua could hold their own against the Cambridge campus pretty marvelously. Once we arrived, we got to sit-in on a class in the journalism school and interact with students from all around the globe. Besides Chinese students, the class was host to young adults from Turkey, Israel, Russia, Thailand, and Holland, just to name a few. Like I said, Tsinghua is a pretty renowned school.

After the class, we took pictures and exchanged emails with some of the students (unfortunately, no Facebook in communist China), and then we got to do our own thing. While everyone else in our class caught the bus back to the Grand Hyatt, our professor Lars allowed us to hang around campus and catch a cab back later if we wanted, so Jansen, myself, Hannah, and Misha did just that. One of Misha's friends from the U.S. was attending Beijing University for the year, so he met us on campus and we all walked to dinner together. We walked around the city for a while on foot, enjoying the sights and sounds more fully knowing we were completely schedule-less for the evening, and Misha's friend brought us to a delicious restaurant he knew for dinner. In China, most meals are ordered by one person for the entire table, and several plates are ordered from which people share....kind of like getting a bunch of appetizers and splitting, but the portions are like Thanksgiving-sized. They feed you well over there.

Her friend was living with a host family, and Misha wanted to interview his host mother for the stories we all had to write following the trip. We all tried to catch the public bus, but that was a no-go because of huge crowds, so we tried to stop taxis on the street. The one thing I can't emphasize enough about China is that the driving there is horrific. The taxi ride to host family house felt like a movie car chase scene at the time, and now I remember it as if it were a video game car race...scary fast, scary close to other moving vehicles. Yikes.

At the house, we met the mother and little girl that Misha's friend was staying with. The woman didn't speak a lick of English, but Misha spoke broken Mandarin and her friend could also translate. The woman was so kind to us, offering us little candies, apples, hot water (they drink it hot over there!), and other sweets. Leaving her house, I felt so warmed to Beijing. We were leaving an apartment complex after 9pm in a foreign city, in a foreign country, with candies in our pockets and smiles on our faces. We had to catch a taxi by ourselves and show the driver our cards written in Chinese which asked him to "please take me to the Grand Hyatt, Beijing." My mother would've died if she knew I were wandering like that at night, but it was so refreshing for just that night.

WTB: Day 2, Forbidden City/ Temple of Heaven

We woke up at around 7:00 that Sunday morning. We'd been warned about fog for so long that I expected to never see the sun in China, but as Jansen pulled back the blinds in our hotel room, the sun shone bright and the sky was clear above the city. It was a perfect indicator of how the rest of the day would be. Dressed in layers and equipped with our cameras, we headed down to the hotel breakfast buffet. And at that moment, I fell in love.

The buffet spread was unbelievable. So much Chinese cuisine mixed with some American classics, such as doughnuts, rolls, and muffins galore; yogurt; all types of sliced fruit; bran cereals; French toast, pancakes and waffles, to name a few. There were also tons of fruit smoothie and juice flavors (we're talking celery, grapefruit, and watermelon juice here). As far as Chinese options, there were delicious omelets, sticky buns, pork & veggie buns (our previous night's dinner), rice, sushi, eggplant, tofu, and dozens of other delicious options that I sampled but couldn't even tell you the names of. Every person in my class got a minimum of 3 plates each day. I kid you not, that food is what dreams are made of.

After stuffing our stomachs to their absolute limits, we hopped on the bus and set out for our first true day of sightseeing. The thirty-minute drive provided us the chance to settle our stomachs, enjoy the scenery along the way, and meet Robert, our Chinese tour guide for the week. Robert was absolutely hilarious without even trying, which made it all the better. Our first stop of the day was the Forbidden City...if you don't know what that is, re-watch Mulan...it's where the Emperor lives in the film, and where he really would've lived hundreds of years ago (before it was a tourist attraction and when emperors still ruled China). The cobblestones inside the "city" were the same ones that such emperors walked on all that time ago, which was fascinating.



We explored inside, first taking photos and then being the subject of them. We'd been told that us white Americans are a rare and exciting thing for the Chinese people, especially at famous sites such as the Forbidden City. Before we knew it, Chinese women (and then men) were grabbing our arms and having their friends and family take their pictures with us as though we were celebrities. It was such a fun thing, to not understand a word they said and to be such a novelty to them. We traveled through the Imperial Garden as well, and as we left it to climb a tall hill providing us with a panoramic view of the city, we came across a morning exercise group of women dancing to a dubstep version of an American song from the '90s. Of course, what else could we do but jump into formation behind them and do the same?

Following the Forbidden City and our climb down the hill, our next stop was lunch at a delicious restaurant called Cangsu Fengji in Houhai (a well-known nightclub & bar area in Beijing). There, we had another huge 9-course meal, complete with dessert, with a IU grad reporter working for the Wall Street Journal in Beijing. Even the veggie options were exquisite (I ate lots of eggplant and tofu on that trip). Our next stop, the Temple of Heaven, was a beautiful, peaceful place. I wandered around just looking at the ornate color and design. It was a vibrant blue, and Robert the tour guide told us that no nails were used in its construction--just Elmer's glue and a pint of tree sap. (...kidding.) Here again, we provided popular photo ops for the Chinese travelers.

                                                                   Clearly.

Skipping ahead, we traveled back to the hotel by bus, lounged around 'til dinner, and following dinner, the ten of us enjoyed our first night out while our two professors and Jim, our translator, rested. We took cabs back to Houhai, and peeked our heads in a few different places before settling on a cozy looking bar with an upstairs balcony overlooking a stage. The place was smoky, but we were quick to discover that is true of all bars in Beijing. When we arrived a band was playing on stage, singing American tunes and doing a solid job of it, besides their rendition of Dylan's "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" sounding more like "knockin' on Harrah's door." Still, it was a great night, and a bonding experience for all of us as we celebrated a successful first day abroad.

Welcome to Beijing

The first thing I remember of landing in Beijing is that the air outside the large glass windows of the airport looked cloudy and orange, like a dusty fog. I hadn't slept in 14 hours, I was wearing an uncomfortably hot red sweatshirt, and my mouth tasted like vomit. It felt like a dirty dream, like waking up sweaty after tossing in your bedsheets all night. That first afternoon (which was night back in Indiana) was quite unpleasant, to say the least. I was on the verge of mental tears, afraid of the large foreign airport and instantly associating the taste of vomit with this new experience.

En route to the hotel, however, my stomach began to settle down, and the air outside was fresh and cool. I pressed my cheek to the window and started in with my picture taking. The sky was so hazy! Adding to the orange-tinted afternoon sky, funny-looking cars on the freeway made me feel like I had been plopped into a Star Wars film. Everything was so odd...and yet, so similar. On that first day (and still in my memory) China seemed to me like a foggy world behind a mirror. It was like living in the movie Inception...the basics were the same--people driving cars, passing on the sidewalk, stores and tall buildings galore--but the specifics were different, like the way these people dressed, the designs of the buildings and cars, and the fact that I couldn't read a single billboard or sign anywhere.


There was one thing, however, I had no trouble translating: "the Grand Hyatt" in Beijing definitely translates to L-U-X-U-R-Y. Oh, how I loved that sweet hotel. Even after their inability to stop my tears on that last night in Beijing (we'll get there), the hotel staff did a stand-up job, and the comforts offered by the aptly-named grand hotel were grander by far than anywhere else I've stayed. My roommate Jansen and I definitely delved into the luxuries of our bathroom, donning our complimentary plush white robes and matching slippers after every shower.

The first night, after exploring the hotel, napping, and making ourselves comfortable in our new rooms, the ten of us students went out for a night on the town and a bite to eat. We strolled down Wang Fu Jing shopping street near our hotel, enjoying the sights and smells of the night market there. Some of these smells were less appetizing than others, as they included scorpions, seahorses, and even starfish displayed on kebabs. The scorpions were still squirming...just thinking about that visual makes my back shiver.

 
We finally stopped and found a place that specialized in steamed pork buns (pork wrapped in gooey dough; I was doing the veggie thing at this time, so I opted for the kind with only vegetables...still delicious) and each got a plate with 9 of them. Nobody could finish their meals and we all left stuffed and satisfied. As the shops were beginning to close, we poked our heads into a few places and then headed home to our cozy beds at the Grand Hyatt. I indulged in the shower, dozed off in that comfy robe, and slept soundly. The next day would be a full one, and I wanted to be ready bright and early.
Our first stop? The Forbidden City.

Of Saints and Scholars

Next Sunday, I leave for Ireland, so I've decided that tomorrow is a pretty good day to start telling you about China. And this time when I leave the country, I'm actually going to tell you about it WHILE I'M THERE. China was a new experience, and I couldn't have ever predicted all the things that went down, so I'll excuse myself for being too preoccupied with that new world to write while it was happening. I was climbing the Great Wall of China. I was drinking with people who didn't speak a word of my language. I was losing my camera and crying about it while skyping my parents. I was living that experience, that dream, and I was at a complete loss for words.

After traveling to China and leaving the U.S. for the first time (let's be honest, Niagara Falls in fifth grade didn't count), I feel like I should be a little jaded or something. But I am SO UNBELIEVABLY EXCITED to see Ireland. Last summer, when my dad presented my brother and I with the finally realistic option of going to Europe in Summer 2013, he asked us to choose the top 3 places that we'd like to visit. Me and John both ranked Ireland #1.

((If we're being honest, Italy was a close second, and may have been first if it hadn't been for my neighbor's Ireland pictures making their way into my newsfeed on a regular basis for the past few years, consistently giving me fresh waves of jealousy and wanderlust every time. She's been spending time over there doing mission work and writing for the past few years, which is enough to make anyone envious (but especially me). The other reason is because of that one time (read: fifty times) that I saw P.S. I Love You, and since that moment, P.S. Ireland, every American female from the age of 15 to 65 has wanted to travel to you because you have the most gorgeous green landscape we've ever seen and you make men who look like Gerard Butler. And oh sweet Jaysus, those accents.))

                                    Finish this sentence: "Kiss me, I'm..."
                                          A. Irish
                                         B. Gerard Butler
                                        C. standing here in my boxers
                                       D. ALL OF THE ABOVE

Ahem. So Ireland was the clear winner. It's been a year, and now we're here: a week away from kissing the Blarney Stone, drinking Guinness in Dublin (hell yeah!), and definitely driving to Galway, where hopefully Gerard Butler is still sitting in a bar, just waiting to croon sweet Irish songs and give me ear butterflies. Besides Ireland, we will be spending time in Scotland (where my ancestors come from; Cameron means "crooked nose," a name I luckily don't rep) and England...this means seeing Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, London Eye, Stonehenge, and of course, the most prized possession, Kate Middleton. Obviously, she'll be impossible to locate because she's slightly busy having a baby right now, but one can dream.

                 To the tune of Fun.'s "Carry On," they mixed business with pleasure.


All in all, I still can't believe this is happening. I've been truly blessed this year to have already seen the Great Wall, and now to see the Blarney Stone and the home of the Rolling Stones all in the next few weeks is a breathtaking thought that will be an even more breathtaking experience. To be seeing so many different parts of the world and only 20 feels like magic....I can't wait to see what the next 20 years will bring.

For now, get ready for a week of China tales as I prepare for my unbelievable journey to the land of saints and scholars.

Real Honest/ Thelma & Louise

You know the first night when you finally see a movie that people can't believe you haven't already seen? I'm thinking The Breakfast Club, The Godfather, The Graduate, etc. And you know, how, after you've seen said movie, your life is forever changed and you can't remember how you ever lived without it? It's like the movie was made for your eyes only. Well, that is how I felt tonight as I finally watched Thelma & Louise, a film that made my eyes wet (that ending!!) and knees weak (cue Brad Pitt's butt), made me laugh and shout at the TV. Damn, what a good--no, GREAT--movie. And I had almost no idea what it was about going into it, just that it involved two gals causing trouble, which always sounds like a good time to me.

One thing I've been thinking about a lot lately is missed opportunities. Or things put off for far too long. I guess finally watching Thelma & Louise brought my mind to the same topic, because tonight I find myself thinking the same thing: why don't we ever do what we really want?

Let me elaborate on this, because that's a very broad statement. The other day as I rolled up to a coffee shop (okay, it was Starbucks), I saw a guy I knew from high school sitting outside, reading a book and sipping some joe. Now, mind you, it was past 9 at night, so I'm not entirely sure how he could even see the pages. Nevertheless, there he sat, and past him I walked. He barely glanced up, but I know he saw me and recognized me. This was a guy I talked to maybe twice in my whole 4 years at MHS, but someone I dug for quite some time. He was pretty quiet and kept to himself a lot, and he was totally kind of nerdy, but that's why I liked him...secretly, of course. I've always had this Lizzie McGuire complex, so since about age ten I've been hopelessly searching for my Gordo.

Here's the thing, though: this guy--who was a good-looking guy, and killer at the drums--totally turned into an asshole late into junior year. His parents had money, I guess, and he had a real nice house. So, what does he do? Starts throwing parties and inviting everyone in the class to come. I rejected all that nonsense for two reasons: one, I never drank in high school, and two, as soon as he started hanging out with the jerks and boners of my class, he became infinitely less quirky and cool to me. My absence at his parties was intended to convey my disapproval of his new self, although there is no doubt in my mind that he never noticed my presence, or lack thereof.

ANYWAY: traveling forward in time, back to Tuesday night at Starbucks, the importance of this memory is that I really wanted to know where he was at in his life now. "Are you still an asshole? Did you become nerdy (AKA actually cool) again? You're hanging out at Starbucks, reading and sipping coffee on a Tuesday evening, that's kind of hipster of you. That is definitely something a Gordo would do. TOO BAD I NOW HAVE A WONDERFUL BOYFRIEND AND YOU'RE NO LONGER A GORDO IN MY BOOK."

 I imagined telling him that. Or at least saying, hey, you know what? You were a really cool guy in high school and always looked completely badass playing the drums. But then you tried to be cool and be something you weren't, and it really made those who actually cared about you not care at all.

But did I say any of that? Of course I didn't. I grabbed my coffee, walked out that door, hopped in my car, and thought, I'll wait 'til the five-year reunion. Which, I can tell you right now I also won't do because it's NOT SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE. It's true. Speaking our minds and expressing our emotions or opinions always seems like the last thing anybody wants us to do...it's always repeated by adults and counselors and friends ("speak your mind!", "just be you!"), but in reality, if what we want to say isn't something a majority of people want to hear, being "just you" isn't the popular option.


Watching Thelma & Louise tonight gave me that same feeling. Thelma's stupid, verbally abusive and degrading husband is a perfect example of people always wanting to shut other people up. I loved the part when Thelma finally held the phone to her mouth and just said, "Darryl, go fuck yourself."

Now I'm not saying we should all go out and say all the horrible truths we've been thinking about all the rude, ignorant, toxic people in our lives. I'm saying tell that guy at Starbucks that, yeah, you thought he was sweet in high school when he was a nerd, but he became an asshole senior year and started throwing parties every weekend, and that's when you stopped caring.

I'm saying sometimes, when someone treats you like dog poo, it is okay to tell them where they can shove it. I'm advocating for more honesty and openness about the way our minds really work. If your friend looks ugly in that shirt in the dressing room, tell her. You won't do her any good by lying.

When you have something you wanna say, share it. When there is a moment you want to happen, make it. I don't want to have feelings like that years later, when I see someone at a grocery store and remember that I hurt their feelings and never told them how sorry I was. My summer resolution is to be real. Real, and real honest.

Patience Is...

I don't know where the last two weeks have gone. I tell you, this summer is moving at the speed of light and I barely even have time to realize it. Working at day camp, so far, has been completely grueling. By the end of every day I just want to collapse into a pile of soft, fluffy towels and go to sleep for about 5 hours before I have to any talking, thinking, etc. Sometimes the kids are cute. Or sweet. Or (the older ones) will say something very smart and sophisticated that proves there is a brain in that tiny head, and I feel warm, like there is still a hope for posterity.

And then one of them makes a joke about weiners or stands on a table top or leaves their post-lunch trash all over the ground for me to clean up, and I want to smack them in the face but instead I take a Tylenol. Ooooh, if I was so-and-so's mother. I say that sometimes--"If I was your mother, I'd..."-- and then I stop, because I realize I can't threaten this kid 'cause I'm not his mother.

Being with these kids has definitely taught me a thing or two about patience. It's taught me that children aren't robots, and they aren't going to obey you when a.) they're doing something they're happy doing and you're telling them to stop, b.) everyone else is doing it, c.) they have a history of bending or breaking the rules (in other words they just don't give a f*ck), and/or d.) they aren't getting the discipline they need at home.

Children ignoring me and--on days I'm with the older ones--talking back to me has become a daily routine. And I don't mean after a couple times a day, we're good. I mean there is a nonstop, constant power struggle every day. I have to remind myself all the time that not all these kids have been taught to respect authority...in fact, in some of their homes, they have most likely been taught to ignore it, if not resist it.

That's where the patience comes in. I've always tried to be a cool counselor, the childcare worker who plays with the kids and earns their respect by being cool and relatable. The problem is that approach ain't gonna cut it for the next two months. Regardless of my desire to be loose with regulations, and despite these kids' innate desire to defy those regulations, I have to toughen up this summer. I can be a fun, kind, and interactive Jekyll, but when it's called for, I need to show them my toughest Hyde.

Sometimes my loudest yells are whispers when compared to 27 rowdy kids. Sometimes I let myself be walked over or fooled when I give a child the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes those kids take advantage of my sweetness and forget that back-talk is never an option. But every time, I learn something. Every sore throat at the end of the day urges me to find a simpler (but still successful) alternative to yelling. Every headache that makes me reach for my pills reminds me that I need to calm these kids before they push me to that level.

Patience is a virtue, and I've always considered myself a pretty strong person morally. I'm not going to let thirty middles-choolers change that, even if sometimes they are pretty huge brats that I wish I could smack upside the head and ground for a weekend. So this summer, readers, I encourage all of you to spend some time with a child, especially one who is rowdy and defiant like nobody's business. And just observe (hopefully you're not the one responsible for detaining this child). Watch how the parent or guardian of the obnoxious tiny human reacts to it, and that'll tell you right there what kind of person the child is going to grow up to be. If you want to raise a good human, be patient, be kind, be loving, be gentle, be supportive, be there. But also, do not be afraid to be a tough motherf*cker every once in a while. Patience is a virtue, but so is reasonable discipline.

Adultery

Well, since last Saturday, I'm 20 years old. But let's not make a big deal out of it.

Let me clarify this title: I am not cheating on my spouse. But don't you think "adultery" is such a better word to describe being an adult than "adulthood"? I mean, adulthood seems to say, "Hey, just because I'm 40 doesn't mean I can't have fun...I golf with my boss; I wear fun ties!" (...yawn.) But adultery sounds evil (like larceny, perjury, treachery, etc). It sounds violating and heavy, which is exactly how I perceive it.

I see the end of childhood (aka turning 20) not so much as a celebration but more like the sweet innocence of those golden years going up in flames. I feel like there's so much I still needed to do as a teen...like I never wrote a book before I turned 20, which was my goal since probably age 8.

But I beat teen pregnancy, so that's something. And, my birthday wasn't as bad as I expected. I only cried once (not at my party though, and not because I wanted to). I went to the zoo with two great friends and we explored every corner of that place. I even saw two turtles making love and filmed it for a solid 30 seconds before realizing that's what was going on.

After the zoo, I got to spend the afternoon with my aunts, uncles & cousins at my grandma's house for a cookout. My parents brought cupcakes and a beautiful red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting (my favorite!) for everyone to share, and after we all had a water balloon fight. I felt like such a kid and I loved it. Next year on my birthday I can drink the night away like a "true adult", but I'm so glad I said goodbye to my teen years by being a kid again.

And speaking of kids, I started my summer job last Friday! Rather than spending 8 hours a night in a plastics factory, I'll be spending 8 hours a day with 60+ kids as a summer day camp counselor. I'll be there every Mon-Fri of June & July (when I'm not traveling the globe) and will be meeting new kiddos each week. These kids are wild as all get out, but they're also just so stinkin cute. And the best part? We take field trips with them every day! Last Friday we went bowling. I nearly ripped out my hair (and vocal cords) trying to single-handedly contain ten 5-year-old boys who were high on sugar and running around the lanes, but there was more laughter than tears, so it was a successful trip.

Tomorrow morning I wake up bright and early for my first full week of camp...here's hoping I still think they're so stinkin cute after 5 days of snot, scabs & tears.

P.S. I almost forgot, but guess what? Three days after my birthday, I got my first article in my hometown paper. In addition to working at day camp, I'm doing some freelance writing for the newspaper this summer. Not quite a book, but it's something besides this blog to keep my writer's mind working. The link's below if you'd like to check it out...just as proof that I can write about things other than myself. ;)

http://www.courierpress.com/news/2013/may/28/grace-on-the-piano/