Being Home.

That drive to and from the airport will never get old. The way there is usually early in the morning, suitcases stuffed full of necessities and snacks you'll miss while abroad. Your passport is anxious for a couple more stamps. The way home is different, but sort of the same. The zipper on your suitcase tugs more around that one corner, and your old passport stamps join the new ones whose ink has dried...but you still feel the pull of the empty pages near the back. Its the same road, same freeway, and same exits, but feels different. I love the drive home from the airport more than the way there. Big hugs and chats about being home fill the car as you pull into the driveway of the house you haven't seen for bit. I usually bee-line it to the fridge the minute I walk in the door.

China's return meant pouring a huge bowl of cereal with ice cold milk. And spoons. I'd had my fill of chopsticks and rice filled breakfasts the past few months. It's been almost 2 years since I had seen sister S., which meant a lot of catching up to do. It was lovely to see her again.

The recounting of a trip is also something to look forward to once you book your flight home. It's always bittersweet leaving somewhere, no matter how much you miss Mini Wheats and cold milk. But you get to relive and catalogue your adventures once you are home. Meeting with friends for lunch, or finally being able to FaceTime without the WiFi cutting out gives you the chance to tell those stories independent of their circumstances; the hilarious hotel situation in Hangzhou- the one with the missing wall?- is devoid of the feeling of frustration and freezing cold rain. Instead, it's a humorous story that your friends really can't believe. What do you mean all five of you shared a bed?

Which is good...and bad. You love visiting with the people who were there with you or who have been there because they get it. They don't need the backstory that really only provides a fraction of what it was really like. And not that you tell these stories to replace someone else's own experience- your version of canal rides in Suzhou can't ever replace the actual chance to do that for yourself- but it's frustrating to not convey in exact detail what it was like. You can talk all day long about the people you met and the kids you taught and show pictures, but it doesn't do it justice. But you don't really travel to create that experience for someone else, you do it for you. You get to see the world and learn about you in ways nothing else can replace. You push yourself to experience circumstances you would have declined at home but you whole heartedly agree because you love who you are when you travel.You love that compulsion for experience, that hunger to understand, and the chance to come home and believe that your escapades in India, or your contemplative prayers in Israel happened to someone else. Flipping through photos reminds you that it was really you who did all those things... how could you have forgotten? It feels like those adventures belong to someone else.

I love how you come home and fall into familiar patterns, but with a slight twist. A smile when you pull out the porcelain bowls you bought in Turkey are filled with your neighborhood's 'version' of gelato that reminds you of a time in Italy, which is similar to what happened to you while in Jordan, which is also like that one time in China. The association game goes on and on, and hopefully won't end. And while I'm still reminiscing about my last adventure, and I'm happy to be home, and I'm grateful to be speaking English again...but there's something to be said about planning my next adventure, wherever it might be.

Teacher, This Empty Glue Stick is for You.

I knew when I came to China the days of making construction paper binoculars and teaching spelling lessons would come to an end. Between the weeks of visiting other cities in China, I always came back to a classroom of kids whose stories (and names) made me laugh. I'd grown attached to all 84 of them; how could you not? Each one has a little personality and while sometimes that personality meant snarling and speaking behind your back in Chinese, you love your kids...meaning the end of the semester held some very sad goodbyes. 

All the teachers and students had worked very hard to put on a final performance for the parents of each of our students.  My older kids combined with the other 3 classes and put on a production of "The Wizard of Oz". It was a bit of an issue trying to make sense of a play that included talking lions, melting witches, and flying monkeys, but by the end it seemed like the students enjoyed themselves. Our adorable second graders embarked on an underwater adventure, each class divided up into different ocean going groups; lifeguards, pirates, sailors, snorkelers, hula dances, and beach goers. It. Was. Adorable. The production was beyond cute, each class had learned a little skit and dance to go along to their dance with each kid dressed up in their little beach attire. My 7 cuties were dressed up with white suspenders over blue and white striped tee shirts as the cutest sailors I've ever seen...and because I'm in charge, they all belted out the Beatles' "Yellow Submarine" and danced with sequined construction paper fish after their skit. It was so cute, however having the production over meant only 2 meager days with our kids before saying goodbye. 

SO. CUTE. 

The fourth graders seemed indifferent to our departure. The last two of days of classes were filled with lawless games of Uno (seriously, in what universe can you play Uno on teams and put down a blue 4 when the card on the deck is a red 7?) and towers of Jenga. Origami lessons happened while movies played, and a random assortment of treats were shoved into open mouths until the bells rang.  It was all good fun but the only difference between the previous party day and our last day was the fact that some students were interested in swapping WeChat information and a hug before running outside the classrooms. And that was that. 

Second grade was a different story. My cute kids lined up by class in the gymnasium, looking eager to see what sort of games or crafts awaited them. Their Chinese teacher wanted us to read a book with our classes, but we all interpreted that to mean taking as many pictures and videos as we possibly could in the truncated class period. When all six classes lined up to leave, all the teachers were in tears. Their Chinese instructor told them in Chinese that today was the last day which prompted the sweet girls to sob and sob and sob. After some wet hugs, they lined up to leave. 

This is intentionally in black and white because of my blotchy crying face. 

 A couple of days later, we were allowed to say a quick hello and goodbye after classes had ended which was a much happier affair. Kids swarmed to supply their WeChat information and eagerly accepted ours. I had written notes for my home room on Salt Lake City postcards which were received with mixed results; some kids loved the notes, others were confused as to why I had given them a card with snowy mountains and a skier on it. I myself received a few gifts; a Snow White pencil, a 'white-out' sticker roll, and an empty glue stick. It seems my cute kids had shoved their hands into desks and pulled out whatever school supplies they could part with in 10 minutes. 

With the promise of chats and video calls from my cute kids, I'll leave for the Shanghai, Pudong airport after a couple days longer in Nanjing. In the meantime, I plan on drinking buckets of coconut bubble tea, slurping up plates of hand pulled noodles, and trying to fit all my souvenirs into various suitcases. I'll be sure to find room for a Snow White Pen, a white out roll, and an empty glue stick. 

Lunch With 100,000 Buddhas

A short bullet train ride from the Xi'an train station got us to part two of the last vacation in China. It's hot in the city of Luoyang, we'd been traveling consistently since February, and there were definite stressors waiting for us back in Nanjing...but I wasn't going to cut a vacation short. Since it was our last little trip in China, I was going to make the best of it. That meant air conditioned taxis the whole trip long. I had done my time crammed onto busses, sardine-like. I loved it, but it was time to only have my sweat on my shirt at the end of the day, instead of the sweat of dozens of strangers you are pressed against as you make the 42 minute bus ride back to the city center. Oh, China. That air conditioned ride to the Luoyang Grottoes was worth every Yuan.

I meant my promise of treating this trip like old people. We paid for a tram to take us to the caves, a boat to take us back to the tram, and a return tram back to the exit. It was glorious.

The Grottoes were a highlight I'd been looking forward to for weeks. Once I delved into China's exhaustive history, I knew I wanted to see some of the best preserved grottoes that had somewhat survived the brutality of the Cultural Revolution. Luoyang did not disappoint. I was completely astounded to think of who had carved thousands - literally, thousands - of tiny Buddhas into this cave complex. While the massive statues were worth a marvel, each other the teeny carvings were incredible to look at. Another poignant memory was the blazing heat. There is not a person on this planet I would have given a hug to in that heat. Mom and dad? Nope. Gus from Alt - J? Handshake. The sister I haven't seen for two years? High five. It. Was. So. Hot. Despite this heat, corner shops at the base of the grottoes were selling 1) Hot tea 2) Hot milk and 3) Hot water. Hard pass.

 I could barely keep my popsicle from melting down in sticky drips before taking it out of the wrapper. That was lunch, in case you were wondering. I had no appetite for anything other than frozen foods at that point in the day.  After a stroke of heat exhaustion and more sweaty admiration of the grottoes, it was off to our hostel.

Our cool vibe hostel had fabulous air conditioning which we took full advantage of before scavenging for dinner. A little noodle shop around the block had a steaming bowl of tomatoes and eggs, which was delicious. I tolerated the hot meal with 2 ice cream bars before heading to lantern street for some Chinese shopping. I picked up a tee printed with bananas (a wardrobe staple, didn't you know?), some NKIE socks, and a handful of snack from the vendors that lined the streets. It's been months, but I still love seeing ruby red crawfish neatly staked in rows next to those tasty long, thin, ivory mushrooms. It's a stunning site.

After grabbing some nectarines from a fruit cart (I can't even think about not having those carts dot my streets back home, because I'm addicted) I thanked my strong immune system after seeing one rinsed off in the gutter water. Yum. It's another early morning tomorrow,