Finding the Forbidden City.

The Beijing Railway station provides a visual for anyone doubting China’s boggling population. It seemed that all of China was crammed into the exit canals that spilled onto the square outside, into the bright and sweltering sun. It’s a decently good wake up call after a fitful night of sleep on a sleeper train. While there was no loogie alarm clock this go around, there were some chatty Kathy’s that got yaking around 5:30 and continued their conversation until our train made it’s jerkiest and last stop in Beijing. Seriously, the train felt like it was driven by a 4-year-old that was learning the struggling of having terrible hand and eye coordination. Sleep or no sleep, only having only 4 days in this city meant it was time to make the most of it. Yes, during my life of teaching for a handful of hours and eating crazy good noodles and seeing the sites around my own historic city, I also get vacation time to visit places I've only dreamed about, hence the trip to Beijing. I've got it rough, I know. 

Thinking about snatching one of these lions in my suitcase to stash on my own doorstep. 

A quick moment to repack bags at our hostel after taking the metro from the train station and a 10 minute walk led to Tiananmen Square. It’s enormous, by the way, and incredible to see in person. Everyone has seen pictures of the place, so it’s neat to get some first hand context about the events that happened here.  The impressive grounds are no place to lounge (though some did picnic under the streetlight/surveillence poles- a meager slice of shade in the heat) so once our banana ice pops had melted, it was time to move onto the Palace Museum. They are sold by woman shouting Yi Kuia, Yi Kuia on the street and are the best way to beat the heat (and cost about $0.15).  Unbeknownst to us, "The Palace Museum" is  the Chinese colloquial of The Forbidden City which initially caused some confusion. A split between pro-audio guide and anti-audio guide broke the group into sections, and the more historically inclined took the longer route through the maze of golden tiled rooftops. A stunning site to see, these glittering rooftops give a glimpse into the lavish life of the Chinese royalty; I cannot believe people in the past called these intricately detailed, richly decorated, and insanely massive palaces home. H. got an audio guide which meant sharing tidbits of information that only enriched the experience; at one point, I walked on a marble road between two palaces that was only reserved for the emperor....Emperor Emily has a ring to it, don't you think? 

The real win of this picture is not having single tourist in the shot. 

Despite the Beijing heat, it's well worth an afternoon to delve into the small side streets that bridge the main drag of the Palace Museum. The courtyards are smaller, with an old herringbone type stonework where the cracks are inhabited with moss under massive and shady trees, adorned with plaques that literally read "old tree". Unfortunately, there were more sites to see in Beijing so we bid our adieus. A dizzying metro ride later, and it was time to check off a site I had wanted to see since the 2008 Olympics. The Bird's Nest would have to wait until tomorrow, but this afternoon was reserved for the Temple Of Heaven. 

Check out Instagram for the single jumping picture that turned out amidst the
dozens of attempts. 

Though nearly every structure in China has been burned down once or thrice, it's still a marvel to see in person, and older than anything in the United States can boast about. The park itself is a place I wish I could have spent more time in. Huge rows of neatly planted trees shade diagonal pathways where you can hear a smattering of unique comings and goings. Old men are huffing and puffing on the workout park to one corner, while the brassy tune of an accordion plays over the pitched opera sung by a group of women congregated to another side. Small circles of people gather to bounce a feathered shuttlecock around while tourists mill around between pockets of every day life of Beijingers. The sites to see of course were stunning, and merited an embarrassing number of photos trying to get the perfect shot. 

A now-Nanjing-nostalgic dinner of tomato and eggs (you gotta try it) was dinner for the night before give the alleyways behind the hostel some decent exploring time. Rows of restaurants with deep mahogany ducks roasting in the windows while the side streets allowed a glimpse of real life; a man dragging a dog more interested in snuffling in the gutters, a woman giving a reluctant child a bath in a plastic tub, and a group of women playing mahjong at a side table outside of a teeny restaurant roasted kabobs outside, all alight by the neon signs the lit up the dark alleys. As a side note; buy anything that is reminiscent of a circular pastry I adore no matter what city you are in. Beijing's street food version is a flaky crust imbedded with black sesame seeds and studded with a sweet honey type syrup that has soaked into the pastry. De-licious, and the perfect sweet treat before going to bed. The fruit salad ordered by another teacher at the restaurant was less successful. Fruit salad apparently means some sort of pear tossed into straight up mayonnaise. Also, the grapes in the picture apparently can be replaced with tomatoes. 

The Great Pocky Experiment.

Food is an enormous part of any worthwhile travel experience, and being in China for a good part of a half a year means eating a lotta things. Some tastes have been less successful (stinky tofu, anyone?) while others I could (and try to) eat everyday (muslim noodles, please). I believe I had had Pocky before coming to China, but it’s got a cultish following here despite it’s Japanese origin. The kids here HATE Japan. They aren’t shy about it either, please see Hannah’s blogpost for more details. I had stashed a box of the chocolate dipped cookie sticks in my backpack one day which had Blaze dropping to his knees begging me to give him a piece. Considering Blaze’s English skill, it was pretty impressive to hear him say so many words in English to get his point across. It’s pretty good stuff and comes in a rainbow of flavors. Hannah had the stroke of brilliance to buy as many flavors as we could find at the local Suguo and talk to everyone in the group to find a combination worthy to name after themselves. We are talking 15 boxes of Pocky and 23 flavor combinations. As the flavors piled up, the idea of the Great Pocky Experiment got more and more difficult to resist.

Rows and rows and rows of the stuff.

Despite our love for Pocky, there were Nanjing sites to visit, kids to teach, and translation mistakes to be made. Life gets busy here in China. It was surprising difficult to find the time to start the Pocky project. The rows of boxes sat atop a box shelf, tantalizingly taunting us before bed when all you want to do is chow down on new flavors of the stuff.  They sat quietly, like row of books atop a shelf you are dying to read but you can't just blitz through because you want to give the whole process justice. But no; we had to wait. But the payoff was worth it. This morning, we decided dozens of Pocky sticks would make for an excellent breakfast. 

Half way through the matching up process...yum!

Hannah started by laying out all the flavor combinations; White Mousse and Double Chocolate, Strawberry Cream and Banana, Almond Milk Tea and Matcha, etc. Before too long, a couple dozen perfectly angled pairs of Pocky soon lined our desk. Hannah made her predictions, I made known my favorites, and then, only then, did the tasting begin.  Hannah filmed herself tasting the suggestions paired by our fellow teachers and graded each flavor combination on three fields of criteria: aesthetics, flavor blending, and overall taste. There were some surprises; I was not a fan of any of the strawberry flavors which nixed out a few contenders. "Strawberries and Cream”, “Strawberry Cheesecake”, "I Like Smoothies Berry Much"; all of which got low scores on my leaderboard. There were no surprises when my top rated were the chocolate contenders. The thicker mousse Pocky’s were divine and only got better when paired with more chocolate. Shocker: the very best flavor in my opinion was the S’mores combo. Basically, take all the chocolate Pocky’s you can find (Mousse Milk, Double Chocolate, Classic Chocolate, Regular Milk, Mousse Dark Chocolate) and eat them all in one go. It. Was. Delicious. My “Black and White” combo is the poor man’s version and was quite tasty, prejudice aside. 

By the end, I was so sick off Pocky, but there was one last flavor to go; “The Fruit Smoothie”; A mixture of all the fruit flavors, from Mango Mousse to Double Strawberry; It was disgusting and a sad ending to the Pocky Experiment. Luckily, the overall winner as dubbed my averaging mine and Hannah’s scores was the “Banana Split”; a classic combination of banana and chocolate. I pushed aside my sugar sick feeling to let that taste linger in my mouth before heading to class. 

Later that evening, we had all the other teachers over to taste some new flavors of Pocky (and to get rid of the remainder) with a little Pocky Mixer. Tried and true and new combinations were made, and everyone seemed to have rediscovered a love for the sweets. I think I’ll be off the stuff for a while…but I will be bringing home a few boxes. 

The remains of the Great Pocky Experiment.

“I like to eat Duck Tongue”

Abby is the queen of construction paper
iPhone Selfies. She's a cutie. 

Between weekends in Shanghai and trips down to Southern China, I teach a gaggle of darling 2nd graders and slightly less-cute-but-more-articulate 4th graders. There’s more teaching going on for the older kids; Language Arts lessons and Spelling tests occupy my afternoons while construction paper iPods and musical chairs with 7 year olds is how I spend the rest of the day. I’ve been teaching these kids for several weeks now and have all but gotten used to the hilarious stories and quirky names; but there are still moments that catch me off guard. The stories are funny, made even funnier by the fact that some of my kids have the most absurd names. You have the traditional titles like Josh and Kyle, Steven, and Taylor. Then, there's group that must have gotten their names out of the 1950’s sock hop registration list; names like Gary, Oscar, Scarlett, Linda, and Vicky. I’m also partial to the names are those that are not so much as names, but are objects; Cookie, Robot, Daisy, Honey and Kitty. However, my very favorites are those that aren’t really names at all: King, Happy, Blaze, Sweetie, and Michael Potato, to name a few. They are cute, they are sweet, they are naughty, and they are my kids….and their stories are hilarious. 

I’ve got a dozens of little tales that I painstakingly write down to make sure I remember them well enough to give me a giggle years down the road (or still make make my stomach turn). My 4th grader’s have more bewildering anecdotes. I’ve got one kid, Blaze, who doesn’t know much Englis

h. He can string together a few words to let me know he’ll be getting drink or going to the bathroom instead of writing down this week’s new Spelling list, so when he came into class wanting a “small this”, or a “little bag”, it took a minute for me to realize what he was asking for. “No Blaze, I don’ have a ziplock back…this is Spelling class. Why in the world would you need a bag or container?” Blaze opened his clutched hands, releasing about a dozen ants that immediately started crawling between his fingers. Luckily, a small houseplant was available to be the ant’s new home. I’m often asked for objects that don’t really make sense (“Teacha, do you have a lid for this?” “Teacher, do you have a picture of a hedgehog?”) but I have taken to carry around tissues in case they are needed. Once during reading, a boy named Jerry (there are about 7 Jerry’s in the ILP program, go figure) asked for a tissue, and I didn’t have one. He then proceeded to stand up, walk out the door to the bathroom, then changed his mind…spilling a loogie into his hand, then wiping that on the rubbish bin. In. His. Hands. 

Gross. Gross. Gross. 

My second grader’s are much cuter (see photo) but sometimes that gross. We end each day by piling all the kids into the gym room for a song and the chance for them to report their behavior to their Chinese teacher. Most of it is conducted in English, though sometimes it’s in Chinese. The American teachers usually tune out during the Chinese parts, but our attention was called once Hanson’s eager hand was finally called on, he said his comment, and the whole class chuckled. Lily, the Chinese coordinator replied sheepishly: “Thank you, Hanson: Chris; We mustn’t eat things out of the rubbish”. These kids will eat anything. Sunny (a 4th grader) once dove down to lick what turned out to be baking soda off the floor because it had fallen out of the fridge. You would think they didn’t get fed all day; they do, I promise. One afternoon, my horde of cute 2nd graders came running in to tell me that “James eat an ant!”. The girls were grossed out, the boys smiled and shrugged their shoulders when I asked them why in the world James would eat an ant, but I never got a straight answer.

Sometimes that communication barrier makes conversations even more hilarious. I teach a ridiculously cute and ridiculously loud 7 year old named Simba. He has the puffiest eyes that hide behind yellow rimmed glasses and the child shouts everything. His face is often found freshly flushed from yelling his report or screaming hello at friends. He is so-oo cute. Chris is his classmate (the rubbish eater) who is very naughty but has taken to giving me hugs for what I’m sure is some ulterior motive. He came into class and said sweetly “You are milk”. I looked to Simba who speaks slightly better English, who made a drinking-something-motion to confirm my question of “Milk?”. Simba replied “YES, MILK”. I asked again: “I am milk?”, utterly confused. Simba screams back at me: “NOT ME! CHRIS THINKS YOU ARE MILK! MIILLLLKKKKK!”. I have no idea what that even means. 

Simba is the star of one of my very favorite stories. My lesson included asking the kids what sort of pets they had at home. Some were eager to share their cat just had kittens, or that they have a bird at home that’s their very own. Simba rain forward to get right in my face and screamed at the top of his tiny lungs “I HAVE A BUNNY, 2 BIRDS, AND A DOG BUT THEY ALL DIIIIEEEEEEEDDDDD”. I was laughing hard, meaning I wasn’t paying him my full attention so he felt the need to shout the follow up: “TEACHA, I HAVE MANY, MANY FISSSSSHHH”. Oh Simba. My heart and eardrums won’t be the same ever again. 

King tries to play it cool, even on the St. Patrick's Day
slash Easter party.

This is usually how pictures go. 

There are also the offhanded comments that lower your self esteem in one swoop. King has to be one of my favorites (also he’s in my homeroom, so that’s a plus). He is sooooo cute, which is good because it means he gets away with saying things like “Teacha, so soft” when he jiggles my upper arms. Thanks, King. It’s a good thing I like you. 

The girls have sweet stories; shocker, I know. Pictures are often drawn and have the most heartwarming anecdotes. Taylor I think is the sweetest student I have; bonus points because she’s in my homeroom. Taylor drew a picture of Superman with hearts and when I asked what her Superpower would be she pointed to her paper because “She would make the whole world love each other…”  Could she be cuter?? 

Don’t get me wrong: the trips to exotic and exciting places have been wonderful, but it’s nice to come back home to my kids. I’m going to miss telling me their favorite breakfast food is duck tongue, or needing Michael Potato to make sure I don’t forget the “Potato” when I roll call his name just as “Michael”, or drying off leaves before class one by one for the pet silkworm for my 4th graders. Oh, I'm going to miss these kiddos.