recap (xmas and western new year)

Internet was largely down for a few weeks after Christmas and I wasn't able to post... I did send a long email out to those who I knew read my blog. I'm reposting most of it here for the sake of continuity:

Just before Christmas, the English department put on a large "Christmas party" for the school. Several hundred students probably attended. They use the word 'party' with abandon around here, but I use it rather more cautiously because their 'parties' are usually a long performance, complete with 4-6 girl and boy hosts who all have microphones and wield them fiercely, often in ear-splitting unison. Glow sticks and swords were handed out as well as the clapping-hand noisemakers. People talk the whole time. The theme for this particular party was "Fly your dreams." Students performed everything from raps, both traditional and hip-hop dance, pop songs, traditional musical instruments, and even a comedy skit that retold Romeo and Juliet in mostly-Chinese and kept interrupting itself with product placement spots. I sang Silent Night as an offering from the small foreigner contingent at the event. Not sure if my description has made it sound fun, but I had a GREAT time. My seniors had been the main organizers for the party, dashing around all evening with super worried looks on their faces. And my sophomores were largely the stars of the night! They made up at least 75% of the performers, and did an amazing job! I was positively puffed up with pride in them. This night was an amazing culmination of the semester for me, even though only parts of it were in English. Sitting down in the audience (front and center of course -- let's not forget that I AM the honored foreigner), it really hit home that a teacher feels some ownership of every one of their students. Not like a parent does, but really sort of a slightly smaller feeling very close to that, and for so many students. I left that evening blind from about 100 camera flashes of students wanting a Christmas photo taken with the foreign teacher, and on a total teacher's high from pride at my talented kids. I finished up the 1st semester's classes that week.

With classes done, life has been rather different since Christmas. Many of the volunteers and several of our Chinese friends got together for a Christmas eve chili cook-off party. It was a really nice night, low-key and delicious. Opened gifts and packages the next day with Ben and a few of our Chinese friends.

On New Year's Eve day my department held a big bash to celebrate the end of the year, renting out the 5th floor of a hotel for the afternoon and opening it to the English teachers and their families. I was rather confused about this, til I arrived with Ben and a Chinese colleague, David, to find a mini-bowling alley, karaoke, ping-pong, and pool tables. We spent a great afternoon bowling and chatting with my colleagues before heading upstairs to the ubiquitous Chinese banquet. A number of school officials began making speeches up at the front, with no one apparently paying any attention except for clapping every few sentences. We were starving and already surreptitiously digging in to the first round of cold dishes when I heard my name. I look up and sort of do a general nod to the room, hoping that will do, but my dean rushes over, grabs my arm, and drags me up front to make a speech. I stammer through a passable thank you for the welcome/ I'm excited to be working with you all/ Xinnian Kauile! (happy new year) speech. After returning to my seat, the teachers at my table inform me that that was the first time a foreigner has been asked to speak at this event in at least the last 6 years. And to think, with just a few minutes of warning I could have done something great! To be fair, one of the best skills that China has been developing in me is public speaking. At any event I attend, there is a likely chance that I will be asked to stand up and give some sort of talk, or even sing something. Keeps me on my toes at least. The following week I finished giving oral exams and started the avoidance stage of the semester. Two reasons. The first is that at the beginning of the semester I was told that my classes were exam-based (the final exam making up the bulk of the final grade), when in fact, come to find out at the end of the semester that they are actually comprehensive. Too bad I have almost no grades from the kids with which to compile a comprehensive grade. I feel a bit of a fraud going back and filling in that sort of thing from the notes I took on each student over the semester, but I suppose it's all I can do to salvage things this time around. The other reason is that I have a whole stack of paperwork as well as some online spreadsheets -- all in Chinese -- to complete with grades and analysis. The department helpfully printed out lots of screenshots and instructions (also all in Chinese) to make the whole process a little more transparent for me. Ah well, I'll get that all sorted out and turned in over the next few days.

Yesterday I met with the 6 seniors that I'm thesis advising next semester. They have to write 25-35 page papers in English to graduate as English majors, and mine are writing on topics ranging from Milton and Hardy to Gothic British literature to whether China's young people need a new symbol such as the Long March, to the varying global symbolisms of the Dragon and whether China should keep it as part of the national identity. I know I'm a nerd but I'm sooooo excited to see what they do with these topics. On the literature side of the advising, it's a good thing I'm teaching British Literature next semester in addition to listening and speaking, so I'll have to be brushing up on the subject anyway!

Last week we found ourselves with some free days, so Ben and I took off for Xiahe, a small town 5-6 hours southwest of Lanzhou by bus. Xiahe is an incredibly special place, located right on the edge of the grasslands, and home to Labrang monastary, the largest Tibetan Buddhist monastary outside of Tibet itself. The population is part Tibetan, part Hui people (Muslim minority), and part Han. Usually an important tourist destination, we found the town deserted of foreigners. Fair enough, it was freezing afterall, especially in our room where the heat didn't quite make it on. But it was also one of most unique places I have ever been in my life. Tibetan and nomadic pilgrims pour into the town from the grasslands at various times of the year, and trickle in at all times to stock up on things or to visit the monastary. Over 1200 monks of all ages, dressed in a range of deep fuscia-colored robes wander the town and monastary. Labrang itself is a maze of housing and meeting rooms for the monks, as well as maintaining many many temples and altars. It is also home to 5 "institutes" of learning and debate. Ringing the monastary is a 3km pilgrim path lined with prayer wheels. I was going to just walk along it, without spinning the wheels. Afterall, I'm not Buddhist and was walking in the midst of real pilgrims. But as you start walking, it's impossible not to reach out and at least brush each of the beautifully painted wheels. In some long stretches of the path it became hypnotic and extremely peaceful even while the right arm aches from spinning the heavier wheels.

The view that will stick with me forever is a large courtyard in the center of the monastary with close to 200 monks scattered in debate. On a raised platform at the front, a man who I think is one of the reincarnated lamas rocked and spoke quietly. Below him, slightly older monks sat listening to groups of young monks debate. Each man or boy slapped his hands together, shooting the right one forward, everytime he made a point. There was tons of laughter and pushing and shoving. And watching it, you know that this exact scene has gone on forever in Tibetan monastaries where debate is considered a critical part of education and development and understanding. On a hillside above sat over a hundred more monks, all older and in darker robes, filling up a depression in the side of the mountain. We wanted a picture desperately, but held back because most monks don't want their picture taken. While on the path surrounding the monastary, we approached a view overlooking the courtyard and both had our cameras at the ready, but when we actually came to the gap in the wall, neither of us could bring ourselves to take a picture. So I don't have a picture of this for you. Maybe I'll try again in Tibet.