Dear Jonathan...

From the afternoon that I met her in the hallway of the California hotel where we were to complete our pre-China training, I knew I wanted to be her friend.

And now, five years and fifty thousand memories later, I consider myself rich. She became my friend.

Confidant. Ally. Counselor. Sidekick. Sometimes my leader, sometimes my follower. Teammate—in every sense of the word. My number one sounding board. Travel buddy. Greatest encourager. True soul sister.

In this crazy life of living in a place where you don’t belong, a friend like this is rare, invaluable,  precious. Living no more than twenty feet away from each other the whole five years, we have bonded through shared purpose, deep joy, and confusing pain. The lattice of our friendship has been woven through a million moments…

Riding on the back of her electric scooter, ignoring traffic lights just like the locals

Five consecutive Christmas mornings of making our own traditions…complete with the precious box of CheezIts shipped in from America

Countless hangout time with students in our apartments

Rescuing each other from the crowds at English corner (Is it 8:30 yet??)

Experiencing the loss of one of our dearest Chinese friends

Nanchang Train Station at 2 am---“the not-good, the bad, and the ugly”

Me blissfully texting her in those moments when my love for the students threatens to explode my heart

#hashtagtexts

Meals together around the world (Thailand, China, Malaysia, Vietnam, USA)

Boat rides in three countries

Hotel horror stories (the filthy common squatty/shoilet and the mold in the bottom of the glasses!)

Being greeted with exploding firecrackers upon our arrival at a student’s countryside home

Dealing with the horrors of Chinese bathroom facilities---especially the time when I was showed to the restaurant’s bathroom which also functioned as the storage room of the establishment’s noodle supply (buckets of noodles sitting on the edge of the squatty potty)

Sleeping in foreign airports (Thailand, Vietnam)

Long, adventurous train rides throughout China

Fourteen hours on a "hard seat" train trip (once in a lifetime is enough!)

Inside jokes (“I only hate really stupid people”)

Bonding with the workers in the cafeteria, the copy shops, the milk tea shops…

Comforting a weeping student

Being stared at, everywhere—even by a bus driver who rubbernecked as he drove past us

Communicating in a foreign language

Christmas parties---hundreds of students, hundreds of cookies, hundreds of pictures

Cultural stress

Visiting graduated students in other cities, and reuniting with them in Nanchang

Lesson planning/ Teaching

The days when we used to shop at the busiest Wal-Mart in the world, on the busiest day

Watching movies/shows online (much more accessible over here but sometimes the subtitles go wacko!)

Talking to our Father together

Our birthday parties with students

KTV awesomeness

Talking about anything and everything, all the time

For five years, together we have chosen to love this place, these students. The Chang has broken into our souls and we have returned again and again. And now, we are saying goodbye to this place, this life, and to each other.

This Nanchang life has had its grimy, exhausting moments as well as its exhilarating, hilarious, and heartwarming ones.

I wouldn’t have wanted to experience the heartache and the wonder of this place with anyone else.

Frodo said it best:

"What about Sam? I want to hear more about him.

Frodo wouldn't have gotten far without Sam."

Thanks, Christine.

A Question of Stuff

Moving usually brings at least some sense of loss. Some re locations are viewed as exciting opportunities, while others break the hearts of the movers and those around them. And then there are the in-between moves, the mixed-bag transplants that have the movers torn between anticipation and nostalgia. I'm sure there are some moves which cause the re locators no end of relief, but even then, the move has changed something about their lives, and something (whether missed or not) has been lost.

Moving usually means saying goodbye. People, places, routines---there are things that must be left behind. But moving also involves a valiant attempt to transplant one's sense of home. In the West, we do this through stuff. We pack our mementos, our favorite towels, our important documents, and our stuffed animals into banana boxes and set forth to set up "home" in another place. Once this stuff is unpacked and set up in the new dwelling, we have taken our first steps to feeling less displaced.

So I am in a dilemma. I have a decorated, homey apartment full of five years of stuff. But I am not sure what to do with it, because after this move comes a year of limbo-transition. I plan to come back to the US for at least a year, dividing my time between my scattered family members who I miss so much. But I might come back to China after that and set up life in a new city. Then again, things might fall into place in another way and I might settle somewhere in the States for awhile. So, now it is a question of stuff.

Should I pack up everything and ship "life in China" stuff to a storage unit in Beijing, hedging my bets that I will come back? Should I only take three suitcases worth of my most precious mementos and my essential books and give everything else away? Should I ship a few things to Beijing, take the essentials, and leave the rest? Should I keep my matching coffee mugs, my cookie pans, and my glass pie dishes? Should I bring my favorite tea set back to the States so it can sit in a box in my Mom's garage, or should I consign it to a storage unit in Beijing, China? I didn't anticipate this part of the move being so complicated. I tried to go through my books this weekend, but realized that the size of the giveaway pile all depends on my final decision of what I will do with "the stuff."

Goodness, now I need some coffee.

Recently Read Books: Frances and Bernard

Frances and Bernard by Carlene Bauer

I love epistolary novels (books that tell the story through compiled letters), and I was hoping this book would be as amazing as two of my absolute favorites: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows and 84, Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff (which are witty, warm, delightful exchanges between lovers of books), but I was disappointed. The book received rave reviews from so many readers, and so I expected great things. The story traces the correspondence between Frances and Bernard, two aspiring book writers with sharp intellects who become friends and eventually fall in love through letters. Bernard is headstrong and impulsive, a deep feeler who is given to bouts of mental trouble, while Frances is steady, logical, and a committed Catholic who discovers that emotions and compassion make the next logical step difficult to find. I enjoyed reading the letters at the beginning, watching these writers connect over poetry, life stories, writing, religious searches, and their own different temperaments, but as the book went on my enjoyment waned. I guess I did not find enough beauty in the writing or story to coat the tempests and dilemmas that consumed the ensuing letters. While it was not what I expected, this book gives a glimpse into the complexity of relationships, especially when one partner is needier than the other.

Recently Read Books: Elizabeth Street

Elizabeth Street by Laurie Fabiano

An account of an Italian family that settled in the US in the early 1900s, and based on true events, this story traces the life of Giovanna Costa from her marriage in Italy until the days when her children were growing up in New York. While Giovanna did not make it very far up the ladder of social or material success, she was an incredibly determined woman that survived some extremely tough times. Even in her serious encounters with the local branch of the mafia, she fought back with creativity and resourcefulness. Although the story is told in a rather rambling way and the writing is less than stellar, this book gave me insight into the difficulties encountered and overcome by Italian immigrants. I also gained an appreciation for the “sense of home” that they left behind---and how they truly felt like foreigners in their adopted country. I guess this book put faces, names, vignettes, and feelings to the sentence I sometimes say: “Well, my Great-grandparents emigrated from Italy…”