Final Thoughts

The countdown began as soon as we landed in Guangzhou Airport. Eight weeks. No more, no less.

It didn’t really occur to me that our time here would eventually end. When you’re caught up in the busyness of middle school, going home–going back to America–is an ephemeral thought that seems an eternity away. It was only during our last week of teaching that I realized goodbyes were much closer than I would want them to be. That was nearly three weeks ago.

At the time, I dealt with my emotions the best I could by channeling them into lessons. In every single class that final week, I asked my kids to talk about their dreams and aspirations. We went around in a circle and the students spoke of their short-term goals, primarily to score well on their looming exams and eventually the zhongkao, and their long-term goals–where they wanted to be and what they wanted to do in 10 or 15 years. In the classes that were comfortable speaking English, we spoke English. In all the others, we spoke Chinese. It didn’t really matter any more how we communicated; rather, it was imperative that we communicated in the first place, that we had this conversation and that we all understood what was being said in this final class. That was important.

And so the kids talked about wanting to be cooks and English teachers and physicists and wanting to travel to France, Australia, Germany and the United States. After each discussion, I said that I had a special message for them–two sentences from Henry Thoreau (that I accidentally misattributed to Emerson the first few classes, whoops):

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.”

To the stellar classes and to the mediocre ones, I shared the same quote. I read it, explained it in Chinese and had the kids read it after me.

Maybe I was afraid of  saying goodbye to all of my classes because it was a preview of what was coming on July 12th. Or perhaps I was afraid of not leaving my students with anything after their kouyu ke ended and I desperately wanted to tell them, each and every single one of them, never to settle and to always keep reaching for the stars. I didn’t really know at the time why I did what I did and honestly, I’m still not sure why I decided on this particular “lesson plan.” It was cheezy to the nth degree, enough to have made people roll their eyes, but it felt like the right thing to do, you know?

Fast forward to today. Now.

I’m sitting downstairs wearing a tank top and pajama shorts while my fingers pound away on the keyboard. I see my two suitcases lying about 20 feet away, opened but barely unpacked. When I got home on Friday the 13th, I took out only the food I had brought back and my dirty clothes. Everything else I let lie in their respective places and stay untouched.

I won’t deny that I’ve missed people, places and random things (like 2% milk) from America. But I haven’t really come back. At least not yet. My heart is still miles and miles away in a city called Zhuhai that is home to a No.9 Middle School. I keep telling myself that if I refrain from unpacking, I can stay in China for a bit longer and be surrounded by the smiles of my kids.

Yet, even a cursory glance at the contents of my suitcases makes all the sticky emotions and all-too-vivid memories return.  An orange glass lamp from a spunky break-dancer. A half-moon-shaped notebook with its sweet message from Isabel, whose English trumps that of all the other 7th graders I’ve met/taught. A photo album of pictures from these past two months and its accompanying letter in broken English from dear, dear Lucy. A brown puppy mug from two of my favorite journalism babies.

Journalism class. Oh my god. I’m proud of all my classes, but especially my two extracurricular classes: music and journalism/news reporting. I’m proud of my music kids for pulling everything together for the final performance: playing both Pachelbel’s Canon and Tonghua beautifully, and transitioning effortlessly on stage between pieces.

I’m also so so proud of my journalism kids and the culmination of their weeks of hard work that’s currently lying upstairs in the form of a glossy, fully-colored, seven-page magazine called Corner. Eight articles, all in English and of varying lengths, about Chinese and American education system differences, The Avengers, environmentally-friendly instruments, quirky restaurants, expensive foods and so on.

The students probably had no idea what was in store for them when they signed up for the class. Neither did I, though. We went from talking about style, formatting and ethics in news writing and reporting on the first day of class to putting the finishing touches on a magazine–that subsequently would be printed 200 times and then distributed at the final performance–on the final day. In between, we went through many arduous weeks of translating, revising and in-class workshopping. Stephen did a stellar job with design/layout and Andy basically made all the final edits before the magazine was sent to press (thank you so much, guys!).

But everything else, from the cover and magazine name to the fully-fleshed-out stories and their titles, came from them–fifteen 7th graders who liked English, writing and newspapers.

Every step of this journey has been as incredible and frustrating for me as it has been for the students, but I think we’re all glad it happened. I could go on and on about these kids, their articles and how damn proud I am of each of them for making this happen and I think it’s because they are my one class that has produced something tangible at the end of this summer–a physical reminder that something magical did happen in China and in the class. It’s something I hope they will remember and be proud of for far longer than our time together. And it’s also something that I can look back at, perhaps while I’m unpacking these next few days, and be pulled a little closer to my journalism babies, the rest of my students and Zhuhai.

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working with the mind

The summer following my sophomore year of high school I attended a month-long science program at UC Irvine. It was one of the best summers of my life, and I distinctly remember the couple of minutes after my flight home took off. I started bawling — bawling bittersweet (though technically salty) tears in some window seat on the way back to San Jose. Hah — in the middle of my cry-fest the flight attendant asks me if I’d like a drink, and I give her this look essentially saying, “look, lady, can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?”

I cried because I remember being thankful. Thankful for my roommate Ben Wu, who always treated me like a somebody; thankful for my RA Josh Dorman, who made me believe I was a somebody; thankful for Luan, one of the most earnest go-getters I know; thankful for Steven, one of the most down-to-earth, compassionate humans I’ve met to date. There are many more: Erick, Juju, Trevor, Stephanie. I don’t know — I just remember thinking, “Wow, I’m so lucky this happened to me.” When I went home, the withdrawal symptoms hit: I didn’t talk to my parents for days, I’d walk in circles on the neighborhood track during sunset singing Danyo Cummings’ “Serenade” into the emptiness, and it was only a week later that I accepted that summer camp was over.

I’m leaving Zhuhai frustrated rather than nostalgic. And that makes me feel a bit guilty, even though guilty isn’t even the “right” way to feel. Perhaps it was because I’d left before the others and since I was so hurried was unable to take it all in. Perhaps it’s because I’m older now. Maybe I’ve hardened emotionally, but seeing as I started bawling in the middle of a movie on the plane, I don’t think so. Maybe it’s because I’m ready to be in the comfort of my own bed and my own home despite being a big believer in the human struggle.

I’m not saying that I have to feel a surge of emotion at the end of every program, but it’s a struggle when you can’t see the fruits of your own labor. My high school speech coach Mrs. Brasher, one of the greatest teachers I know, would tell me time and again about the power of speech. “Once it’s yours, it’s yours forever,” yes…but how, exactly, do you give that, or any other perspective, to someone? How do you know if you have? And if you don’t know, then have you failed? Were your efforts in vain?

Objectively speaking, I’m second-guessing something I know to be true. When Duke joins hands with No. 9, the students and staff can’t help but be optimistic. The atmosphere is electrifying. For that reason alone, there’s no doubt that even the students have grown. But I’m used to tangible things. I’ve fundraised to support literacy in Uganda and even co-founded a school in Cambodia, so when I don’t see a small change in a student with which I’ve spent a lot of time, I have doubts. But that’s not the point: DukeEngage Zhuhai can’t be captured in quantities. It’s a seed-planting program. Hsiao-Mei told me that “working with the mind is the hardest thing in the world.” Sometimes, she explained, you reach out to others, but whether or not they latch onto that hand is not in your control. “You will get frustrated,” she reminded me. “And that is a good thing.”

I also suppose that it’s not always about the result. It’s also about the process. Remembering deep conversations in hotel rooms and taxicabs to QQing with students who I don’t even know to hawthorn popsicles at the sports center to laughing about stupid moments in English and dance classes with my co-teacher Chirag, I am convinced that I’ve been able to give to No. 9 and to China almost as much as these two months in China have given me. And all of a sudden, that quote from Gandhi on my freshman RA’s bulletin board now makes a little more sense: “Whatever you do may be insignificant — but it is important that you do it.”

I will miss you, Zhuhai. Keep being awesome. And never stop pushing.

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For Good

When I’m not sure what to say, a song usually does it 🙂  These are the lyrics to “For Good” from Wicked.

 

I’ve heard it said

That people come into our lives for a reason

Bringing something we must learn

And we are led to those who help us most to grow

If we let them, and we help them in return.

Well, I don’t know if I believe that’s true,

But I know I’m who I am today because I knew you

Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes a sun

Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood

Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?

But because I knew you I have been changed for good.

It well may be, that we will never meet again in this lifetime

So let me say before we part

So much of me is made from what I learned from you

You’ll be with me, like a handprint on my heart

And now whatever way our stories end

I know you have re-written mine by being my friend

Like a ship blown from its mooring by a wind off the sea

Like a seed dropped by a skybird in a distant wood

Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?

But because I knew you

I have been changed for good.

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The End?

This week we are hosting a four day summer camp (Sunday-Wednesday) for the seventh graders at No. 9 middle school. We unfortunately only have a few more days in Zhuhai, and the kids at the school are getting upset about it, especially my host family. While I am also unhappy about leaving, I tell them to focus on today and have fun rather than worry about the future. I am currently writing each of my host kids (there are four of them) a goodbye letter (the same full page letters they write to each other at the back part of their yearbooks at the end of high school), but making sure that we can still stay in contact via QQ or email. QQ is a social networking program similar to Facebook or other types of instant messaging programs. After living with my host family for these past two months, I really feel that I am their older brother, and I want to continue to see them grow. I sat down and talked to each of them about school (socially and academically). While they value all the Duke students in this program highly, I told them that we are not smarter and they have the potential to strive to become like us or exceed us, but we are not better than them. I shared a few of my life stories with them, stories that are too personal for this public blog, with the intention of inspiring them to reach their full potential. Everything I told them was true, not embellished, and I know they can achieve their dreams as long as they work hard for it.

Last Friday night, we hosted the yearly final performance, containing all our extracurricular classes, called Merge. As a whole, the performance went extremely well. We were worried that we would have to cancel the performance due to rain (the weather in Zhuhai can be bipolar and unpredictable), but thankfully, it rained a few hours after we finished. Many students at the school have never been on stage before, making this performance exciting and unique for them. Every act went well, and based on their expressions, all the students felt proud of their work. For me, I emceed with Sam, and this was my first time ever emceeing. Based from the laughter of the crowd, Sam and I agreed it went well. There were times where we had to stall and came up with random acts on the spot, but I guess it is interesting how this performance was a new experience for both me and the No. 9 students.

For me personally, this Duke Engage program has changed my life. While we do not work on projects that reward an instant gratification such as building MRIs or houses, we work more abstractly and intangibly by working as a teacher and mentor for middle school students and building long term relationships. This is not to discredit the other projects; I personally help out with Habitat for Humanity of Durham and value it highly. I am just trying to show that our focus is on something different and something that I had not been used to, and I feel that our presence and actions have positively affected the overall attitude of the school. Our pictures will be left on the wall of fame in Zhuhai, which I hope will excite the students for next year’s incoming Duke students. One aspect I found interesting and insightful were people’s life stories. Everyone has a story, whether it is the cleaning lady who used to be a teacher, a child from a poor family who can only afford to purchase a standing ticket for a sixteen hour ride, or the security guards who work far away from home in order to make a living and send money back to their families. Living and intensely working with a group of eleven other Duke students in another country for two months was also a new experience for me. As a whole, our group collaborated well, and we were able to accomplish our daily work and goals together.

Even though this is the end of the Duke Engage program in Zhuhai, it will continue unofficially. As I said before, I will keep in contact with my host family and other students at the school through QQ. I do hope to come back to Zhuhai No. 9 middle school to help and collaborate with the teachers and students someday, but it will have to be through other opportunities outside of Duke Engage. You can only participate in Duke Engage once, but that does not mean that you only go to China once.

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We recently finished our last week of classes, so as things are wrapping up, I’d like to look back at the journey we’ve taken with our kids.

Each of us have pursued varying teaching methods dependent on our personalities. We had people who would mostly play games, we had themed lessons, others watched videos. In my classes we would tell stories. I would introduce a few topical words like, “pirates, mermaids, kraken” etc. and then I would go around in a circle and help them craft a story. One of my favorite tales included a ninja who confronted a zombie dragon on Mt. Fuji. The dragon had captured some princess and the Ninja was tasked with rescuing her. He did so by seducing the female dragon, and then serving it poisoned cake at their wedding. Here’s an example of how it might go:

Me: Ok. So you’ve escaped the zombies and are now flying in your airplane. What does your plane look  like?

Students: very big.

M: what color?

S: Yellow!

M: Ok. What happens if it runs out of gas? (They don’t know what that means so i act out a car stalling and then the plane falling)

S: I Jump!  (followed by me implying they’d die if they just simply jumped) Bring umbrella (I teach them parachute)

M: where do you land?

S: water! (i teach them ocean)

M: You see a shark! What happens!

S (summarized a bit): A police woman comes to the rescue! But she can’t swim so the shark eats her. So I jump in the shark’s mouth and punch my way out, rescuing her, and then celebrating with a BBQ on the beach.

So reading this you might be thinking, “Wow. You get sent halfway round the world to teach kids English, and this is what you come up with? A bit flippant right?” Yeah, I initially thought I would be teaching them proper usage and pronunciation, but it soon became apparent that that wouldn’t work. You see, most of the kids don’t really care about learning how to speak English. They don’t get anything out of it. And from a certain perspective they’re right. In the Chinese educational system the sole determinant of success is the test score. Kids are literally reduced to a single number and that’s it. A few hundred might get exceptions if they are exceptional musicians or whatnot, but everyone else is just a number. Thus, why bother learning how to speak when that time could be better used studying for something that matters?

And I think this reasoning is precisely why Hsiao-Mei sent us here. Our program is spectacularly suited to challenging this reigning paradigm that students are just a test score. From the getgo we emphasize the arts with our after school practices for showcase. During class, the kids don’t want to talk. The only way to gain any ground at all is to make it entertaining, make it fun. And everybody does. As a result, we show these kids that not all learning is about regurgitation. It’s spontaneous, fun, random, and engaging. From the time they waddle into kindergarten to the day they leave college they’re ranked and accordingly segregated. They don’t go to class to learn, they go to class to score well. When they step into our class they know there’s no test. They don’t have any pressure. All they need to do is have fun, and maybe along the way they’ll get more exposure to English or learn a few words.

 

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That Is the Whole Idea

First time "Hip-Hop"

5 - 6 - 7- 8

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I will be on stage tomorrow for the first time, not to play a violin, but to dance.  Yes, do not laugh! I am going to dance a hip-hop.  In the last few days, all DukeEngage students have been working non-stop to put up a final show that displays all the extra curricular classes that we have taught at Zhuhai No.9 School.  Yesterday all afternoon, we were all outside with the No. 9 students to run through the entire concert—all 16 programs. The sun was so burning hot, I don’t think I was ever that close to the sun before. This morning, we had to do it all again, and then it started raining. This is called 风雨无阻。

With DukeEngage, everyone gets to challenge himself/herself in some ways, and there is no exception for me. Three summers ago in 2010, I did something for the first time. In order to keep the audience entertained when setting up the stage between the acts, I performed magic tricks in front the audience of 2500 (I need to give myself some credit here, I only learned the tricks the day before).  This year, all Duke students invite me and my assistant Will to join them for the last number of the program: No.9 School students’ hip-hop class dances first, then all Duke students join them at the end as the grand finale. I do feel the rhythms, but I am terrible at remembering the dance sequences.   I felt threatened because Chirag and Ray, the two authentic hip-hop dancers, are on my left and right. But as long as everyone is having fun, I am not terribly embarrassed. “Hsiao-mei, you can do it” ! My Duke students encourage me.  Yes, I will try my best.  After all, that is the whole idea behind Duke Engage.

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Smile

With this past week being our last week of English classes for the seventh and eighth graders, I ended each class with two remarks: “Smile” and “Don’t be shy.” I want my students to be happy and not walk around with frowns all day, especially after tests. This does not mean to have a forceful Cheshire cat smile, but rather a feeling of hope, relaxation, and content. I understand that being in a class with sixty students can be overwhelming, but I encouraged my students to still not be shy and step out of their comfort zone. I understand that overcoming shyness is not accomplished in one day, but I am hoping that these past weeks have influenced them into becoming less shy and lead them to becoming more outgoing.

Yesterday, we visited a local college campus, which had a unique elegance. The freshmen at the college were going through their required army training. In China, every student must undergo the army training three times. This happens once in middle school, once in high school, and once in college. From my personal perspective, the drills that they were doing were the strict disciplinary ones such as marching in formation or doing pushups. I think most of the groups do get to practice shooting real guns, but I do not know all the details that go along with it. The dormitories are separated by gender, and there are strict rules for each of the dormitories. One of them is that if you are a boy, you can only visit a girl’s dormitory for thirty minutes before you have to leave. It is the same for if a girl visits the boy’s dormitory. There is only one entrance and exit, which allows this regulation to be easily enforced. I asked what they would do if there was a fire, but I did not get a straight answer, which leads me to believe that they do not have fire drills like we do at Duke.

My host family enjoys watching the different Chinese dating shows. The biggest surprise was seeing the African bachelor speaking perfect Chinese. Most people including me have some sort of an accent, even if it is a slight one, when speaking a non-native language, but this gentleman’s pronunciation was flawless. It partly reminded me of the time when I ran into a Chinese man speaking English with a strong southern accent. For me, it is unusual to see someone of one ancestry speaking the ancestry of another person. However, I do acknowledge past my cognitive stereotypes that race and ethnicity do not always influence a person’s ability to speak in a language or accent because we are all created in the same basic way.

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I Hate Taxi Drivers (in Bei Jing)

Nothing’s happened since the last time I wrote… just kidding! We went to Xi An and Bei Jing. I got to see my family in Xi An, which was awesome because only Buddha knows when the next time I will be able to come back to China and see them is. Gramps was looking well and the rest of the family seemed healthy and content, so I’m happy. My cousin just finished the Chinese college entrance exam, so she’s able to relax for the summer.

The terracotta warriors and the Xi An city wall (one of the oldest intact ones in the world), was really cool and the Great Wall, the Temple of Heaven, and the Emperor’s Summer Palace were all amazing too. It’s like stepping into a forgotten world… only one with throngs and throngs of tourists. 746

The one experience that I will not forget is coming back from dinner with the Duke Alumni Group in Bei Jing. It was raining really hard as we came out of the restaurant, so I was trying to get some taxis for the group while standing in the rain. The only problem was, not a single taxi driver would stop to pick us up, for fear of getting their cars wet (just guessing here since the one taxi I forced to stop yelled at me “there is no why”). I didn’t understand. Is their job not to pick up people to need rides and to take them to where they want to go? Is it not reasonable to expect that the drivers would help people out due to human decency alone? How could they just drive by and watch people standing in the rain?

And the best part wasn’t even being unable to hail a taxi. The best part of the night was being charged 90RMB (bargained down from 100) to be taken 10 minutes back to the hotel after two and a half hours of futile waving to countless taxis, and walking to the bus station and the metro station to find that both had already closed, leaving us with no choice.

Maybe I’m unreasonable and stupid, but if I saw someone standing by the road in the middle of a thunderstorm trying to get a ride, then screw the inside of my car!!!! How is that more important than helping someone out or doing your job?!?!

I’m sure this kind of thing happens in America too, and I am ignorant because I have simply never been exposed to anything like that, so to my fellow 中国人,please understand that I am not only criticizing China. It’s just that the only events like this that I know of have all occurred here.

But as a Chinese person, I am a little ashamed. I am ashamed that when I tell my host family about this, they seem unsurprised. I am ashamed that it’s not just one person who was unwilling to stop, but ALL of the people we encountered in those 2.5 hours; and believe me, it was plenty of people.

Splendid trip overall, but worst 端午节ever.

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This one time in China . . . .

This one time in China . . .

One of the No. 9 students named Rocket wrote a note to me asking “Will you make friends with me?”  Later that week he came dress shopping with us and informed me that I every dress I liked was “so-so”.  When I asked why, he always replied with “No why.”

My host mom was trying to describe a Frisbee and called it a UFO.  I knew exactly what she meant.

When leaving a restaurant in Beijing, I watched lightning strike the tree a few feet in front of me.  We then spent a couple hours in the rain trying to find a taxi because Beijing taxi drivers don’t want their taxis to get wet.

My host family tried to explain the holiday Duanwujie to me and for most of the conversation I thought that an ancient Chinese emperor had fed himself to fish to make his people like him more.  I’ve since learned that’s not the correct story.

I told my students one day that I like huo long guo (dragon fruit) and the next class, one student brought 5 huo long guo to class for me.

The first night at my host family’s house, I had to call Ming Ming because I didn’t know whether to sleep on top of or under the bamboo mat on my bed.

Several students have asked me if they can take a picture.  Not a picture of me and them together, but just me, like I’m a cool souvenir or tourist destination or something.

From listening to Hsiao Mei, I’ve learned that  only two proper ways to address strangers are “shifu” (master) and “xiao peng you” (little friend).

A real call with my host mom:

“wei?”

“Ni hao, this is Sam”

“ni hao” .  . . . . I didn’t understand this part . . . .

“uhhhhhh, wo bu hui hui jia chi fan”

“keyi, zai nali?”

“bu zhidao”

“keyi, bai bai”

“bai bai”

 

While on the night train between Xi’an and Beijing, Stephen, Julia, and I were taking pictures of the large dead bug in the sink.  We then couldn’t turn off the sink, and ended up befriending a Beijing University student who successfully turned off the sink water.  We are now QQ friends.

Yesterday, four of us were sitting outside eating noodles for lunch.  Two store fronts down on the street, a man was grabbing chickens by the neck and killing them, then sending them inside to a restaurant kitchen.

On trains in China, the toilet is just an open hole to tracks.  After using the bathroom, Andy exclaimed, “I just peed on China!”

Everyday during lunch, our student named Potato peeks his head in our window while holding a large skewer of fish balls that is his lunch.  Potato is about 4 feet tall, very round and very brown, and looks not unlike a potato.  When he talks to us, he squints his eyes and nose up really tight to push up his glasses, revealing the drastic tan lines on the sides of face from his glasses.   Everyday during lunch he asks me if we can watch the cartoon Mr. Bean together.

I went grocery shopping the other day with my mom and we wanted to buy fish for dinner.  Unlike America where you usually buy fish on ice, we first caught the live fish we wanted from a fish tank with a net.  We then brought the fish to the fish man who whacked the fish’s head with the back of a large knife to kill it.  He pulled out the guts, put the rest of the fish in the bag, and handed us bag to take home.

In Beijing, we saw a man with a shirt that said “Do you marry me?” on the front.  In the middle was a girl holding her finger to her lips saying “shhhh”.  We’re still not quite sure what this one means.

In tourist places where open fires are not allowed, the English translations of Chinese signs read “No naked flames.”

Becca is apparently an expert in bartering.  At one market, a man offered a souvenir to her for 10 quai.  She kept walking, expressing no interest in the souvenir.  He yelled after her, “I love you! 5 quai!!”

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Father’s Day and Xian/Bei-zing

I did not get a chance to post last week, so this week’s blog will be covering these past two weeks.

Two weeks ago, I celebrated father’s day with my host family. We went out to a fancy restaurant for “high tea” (I think they meant brunch) with some of the uncles, aunts, cousins, and their grandfather. Together there were about twenty people eating at once. For me, hearing a mixture of Mandarin and Cantonese simultaneously from twenty people was definitely a different experience for a father’s day, but I was still able to talk to them in Mandarin.
Because the ninth graders take a test (called the zhong kao), which determines which high school they will go to, we took an excursion trip in order not to serve as a distraction as they do their final preparation for the zhong kao and to immerse ourselves into the northern culture of China. Other than the temperature and environment being slightly cooler, there was a difference in accents between the two regions. For example, the most prominent difference is that in Beijing, people add an “r” sound at the end of some words. People in the south will say “dian dian,” but in the north they will say “dianr.” During our excursion trip, sometimes Chinese people would take pictures of us. For example, as we were posing on the Great Wall and taking pictures, a tourist group walked up behind us and began taking pictures of our poses. We also took a night train from Xian to Beijing. On the train, we saw people who bought standing tickets, which were tickets where you have to stand the entire time. It really reminded me of my mother’s similar hardship experience and it led me to really appreciate the seats we had. The intense bargaining was also a new experience for me. At the Pearl market, the vendors would mostly have you name a price, which I thought makes you more inclined to buy the products at a more expensive price. When buying products, we would shop in groups, trying different techniques such as good cop, bad cop or bad cop, bad cop, in order to bargain for a better price.

Bei-zing comes from how people would pronounce Beijing during the 2008 Olympics.

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