PRIDEful in San Fransisco

OR HOW PRIDE WEEK PUTS LIFE INTO INTERESTING SHADES OF PINK, TURQUOISE, TANGERINE, AND TEAL

I sit here, dehydrated from yesterday's full day of watching 2 hours of the PRIDE parade in downtown San Fransisco, screaming along to the Backstreet Boys performance at the after party, and laying out in the sun in the youth pavilion with some Obies and Obie allies eating garlic fries and fruit cups covered in cayenne pepper and lime.


How PRIDEful am I feeling about things? Am I dancing in the streets? Building floats, dressing up, and throwing glitter to honor my wonderful life?

Not exactly. Class is super hard. 3 hours of class a day, 3 hours of homework a night, speaking tutorial sometimes, group projects sometimes, 1 written test every 4 days, 1 oral test every week. We learn roughly 70 new words, each with a different character, per week. My reading skills aren't up to speed yet most of the written work and tests are in characters. I struggle to finish most of my homework, and frequently don't finish because I need to set aside time to study. And to think that a goal for this fellowship was to be something other than a student; to experience something beyond textbooks, notes, and tests. Swamped is how I feel on a good day, and like everyone, I have bad days too.

Somehow, I have averaged a 90% on all my oral tests and never have had to redo my pronunciation recordings. My written tests are a completely different story. So are the students in my class, who frequently brag about the 6 or fewer hours of sleep they manage to squeeze in, the number of extra character sheets they did over the weekend, the almost complete isolation from their friends, lovers, and families. Talking to them makes me feel very strange indeed for having free time, fun, or sleep.

But there are things to be PRIDEful about, so I'm told. Last night as I stumbled half-asleep back to my single with homework in hand, a hallmate of mine complimented me on my guitar playing and singing. I had been working on this song cover (from a folk band who played in Baldwin last semester). It was a simple song but one with no previously-figured-out guitar part posted online. As a destresser, I try to revamp the song from its guitar/violin/drum set/2 voice setting to fit my single voice and single guitar. It's a beautiful love song, but I haven't been able to create a version that sings the right way to my ears. I normally pick up easy songs, play them a handful of times and move on to greener ground. But this song is a puzzle that I'm stuck on, that I play over and over.


So this guy, coming off the elevator, is complimenting me. I'm about to talk him out of it -- the song isn't polished, it's not the way I want it to be, and sometimes it feels like a complete mess.

"Thank you" I say instead.
"I play guitar in my country. Your playing and voice are so beautiful. I hear you playing from my room." He doesn't speak English as a first language. But hardly anyone does in this dorm. If I had to guess, I would peg him as Eastern European.
I'm a bit embarrassed that the whole hall hears me play from the privacy of my room.
But still I ask, "Do you want to play together sometime?"
"I left my guitar at home."
"You should borrow mine sometime."

I get back to my room, put my books down. I realize I have no idea what this guy looks like. I barely paid attention I was so tired and so focused on getting to bed. But he bravely tried to make friends, tried to talk about music with me, a subject that I find very emotionally dear. His words shook me -- I didn't have to feel great about what I create for it to be appreciated, be it music or *hopefully* Chinese.

Another voice reminds me to be PRIDEful. Beth, the only other person I know to walk the crazy path I am with the same baggage as me, told me about her woes during her summer introductory Chinese class. You are an adult, but the teachers want to treat you like you are less than a child. Your ego is constantly crushed. And the summer feels like it's never going to end. And she said that this language study will be the hardest part emotionally of the fellowship because people in Taigu (China) are so friendly. And here I was worrying that this was the easy part that I was failing at. Or that is was just the beginning of 2 years of daily ego crushing experiences. "Stick with it," she said. "Learn what you can." "You will learn so much in China, surrounded by Chinese speakers." So this Obie is trying to be PRIDEful, keeping China as my carrot and meditating out the rest. Wo xihuan shuo zhong wen. Wo xihuan shuo zhong wen. Wo xihuan shuo zhong wen.


(I like speaking Chinese. I like speaking Chinese. I like speaking Chinese.)

When In Doubt, Always Buy the Cheese

OR HOW COPING MECHANISMS, WELL, HELP YOU COPE

Hi folks,

I have just completed week 2 of Chinese class. I could tell you all about it -- my 10 credit, 16 hours per week marathon; my 2 semesters of Chinese packed into less than 1/3 the time that it's taught during the school year. I could regale you with splendid details, but sometimes I doubt how interestingly I could spin it. Even with pretty pictures and witty text. Let's just say "consistently tough".

What's more interesting is how I am dealing with the class.


How does a recent college grad keep herself sane when she finds herself in one of the toughest classes of her life?

Buy the cheese. Anyone who has heard me tell stories about my Shansi Winter Term (where I took a TESOL class and was oriented into the Shansi fellowship) probably has heard the Cheese Story. The famous story that warns of the risks of living 100% native. Some people don't want to break the mold, do the things their new Asian neighbors don't (like eat cheese). But the smart fellows know that going to Beijing, filling a small suitcase of cheese, naturally only found in a handful of specialty shops in the city, and lugging to back to rural China to fill a fridge so as to savor it slowly. That this is the best way.

Honestly, I never understood this story when Deb told it during orientation. "Honestly, who needs cheese that badly?" I mused. Chinese class has taught me how silly it is to not treat yourself well. This fellowship is hard. Summer study is hard, living in a new country is hard, starting over is hard, leaving it all at the end is hard too. And cheese will see you through it.

My cheese is well not cheese in Berkeley. It is exploring. It's saying yes to crazy invitations, like going to Napa Valley with your new friends wine tasting. It is eating crazy food I have never tried, like finding out the web's advice on Indian restaurants is spot on, even if you don't recognize anything on the menu. It is eating the food I always crave in Oberlin but never find the restaurants to feed that craving, like dim sum, falafel, or shawarma. It's doing yoga or walking until the frustration melts away. It is meeting up with Obies and dancing the night away. It's making new friends, like during a Blues Dance jam where you, the newcomer, are passed from dancer to dancer being welcomed. It's getting a long phone call from someone you love and miss dearly.

This cheese makes Chinese -- my personal uphill battle with no plateaus in sight -- doable. I now know that it's important to have the extra suitcase for it, so when I pass that specialty shop I will be able to take some with me...wherever I may go.

Culture Shock Knocks on My Front Door and Says "Ni Hao!"

OR HOW BERKELEY, CA IS NOT REALLY KENSINGTON, MD OR OBERLIN, OH FOR THAT MATTER

Welcome to my new blog! I am a Shansi fellow, destined for two years (2010-2012) of teaching and traveling in Asia. I will be teaching at Shanxi Agricultural University, Taigu, China. I am currently at UC Berkeley studying Chinese for my upcoming adventure! For all of you who followed me in Germany, Mexico, England, and Ghana; please continue to expect the same amusing anecdotes, silly stories, and anthropological insights. This blog is meant to document my two year stint as a Shansi Fellow.

I graduated Oberlin College 2 weeks ago. The ceremony was fabulous. My biggest complaint was that the graduation outfits were rather mild. I am used to seeing graduates in tutus and bunny outfits or rollerblades and 60s garb. This year, my black graduation robe with silver combat boots and a blue sunhat with a black tassel was almost scandalous. Even though my class chose not to be as crazy as past years, I was proud of my outfit. Luckily, many of my relatives came out to support me, even my cousin Sophie! After rushed goodbyes and even more rushed packing, I headed to West Lafayette, IN, where I spent some brief days with a fellow graduate. Finally I put myself on a plane heading for Washington, D.C., my home city! At last I was on my family's huge, red, leather couch in front of a TV, thinking of nothing. My dream all semester!

It was hard being in the DC area for only a few days. There were lots of quick goodbye and even more packing. It all felt like a continuation of senior week, which was emotionally draining experience already.

Kensington, MD -- the suburb I grew up in -- is an interesting place. For example, the neighborhood I grew up in has a huge Catholic church with an adjoining K-8th school. A place that most of the families (mine excluded) spend much of their time. This fact led to experiences like having a family of 8+ kids living across the street, and god-fearing neighbors settling private disputes by inviting over one of the priests from the church. My family does not participate in these Catholic lifeways, though I did graduate from a Catholic high school, which I begrudgingly admit, was originally my choice to attend. For all that know me, you will know I am not religiously-minded and have quite a skeptical view of the Pope and the Catholic church.

With Liberal Oberlin and Catholic Kensington in my blood, I headed out to Berkeley, California on June 6th. On the plane ride over, I saw the most beautiful scenery. Most of the west coast is foreign to me. Flying over the Rockies was amazing! I moved into I-House, UC Berkeley's International House, where students from the US and abroad can live.

I came to Berkeley thinking I would know what to expect. Berkeley is a liberal place, full of hippies. UC Berkeley is a huge state university who would know me as a number. Little did I know how unprepared I was! Berkeley may be full of progressive people, but it is also full of homeless kids around my age, who beg for money for food for their pet dogs and for weed. Berkeley also has lots of non-hippies. I know this because I have the good fortune of living on one end of Frat Row -- I still can't believe that I go to a school that has fraternities and sororities! Also many of these hippies seem to be some of the original founders of the movement. Almost every day on my walk to Chinese class I see a protest held by people older than my parents. The kids here seem on average less liberal in dress, and maybe attitudes, than Oberlin. I didn't expect Oberlin to stay my shining beacon of Liberalness.



Already I have made friends here. My closest friends so far are two older Canadian women who are auditing classes over the summer and living in I-House too. I also introduced myself to some djembe players busking on the street and hope to be playing with them soon.

It is strange to work so hard to graduate and then find yourself in school 1 week after the ceremony. My current task is learning to NOT be a student who follows the syllabus in Chinese class but instead to become the driver of my learning. It's harder than you'd expect folks.