write more about my adventures in China

It was dark that night. Only a few clouds marred the inky blue darkness of a clear night sky. We were seated on the broken curb of a sidewalk outside my apartment breathing deeply of the cool night air. We had just spent four hours with our Chinese co-workers, eating a huge meal of Korean BBQ and washing it all down with large amounts of bai jiu. It was Carlos’ 32nd birthday, and they weren’t going to let us sneak out early. After what seemed like dozens of glasses of the awful tasting brew, we were trying to clear our heads. The night was still young and we were looking for some excitement.

Sterling was edgy. His cigarette was burning slow ash as he flipped a one kuai coin over and over in his hand.

Carlos broke the silence first. “It’s still early guys. What are we going to do for the rest of the night?”

Each of us pondered over the rather short list of exciting activities we could do in North East China.

“I want to make this day memorable. I want some excitement,” he continued.

Sterling looked my way and raised his eyebrows. I knew exactly what he was thinking. We had been planning a trip to the old gas tower for a few weeks now. Surrounded by a high rock wall and guarded by 3 guards with vicious looking dogs, the gas tower was located at the far south east corner of the park. It was an eyesore that could be seen for miles. We were planning to climb the rusty stairs to the top some night to enjoy some cold beers and a smoke while looking out over the entire city. Was tonight the night? It seemed so.

After quickly explaining our plan to Carlos, we ran upstairs to grab some provisions for the rest of the evening. Black trousers, shoes, a sweater and cap for me. Sterling had on dark combats and Carlos stuck out like a sore thumb in his bright red T-shirt. He snatched an old black sarong off the back of the sofa and knotted it around his neck to hide his garish shirt. It hung down like a long black cape over his shoulders.
Carlos and I stuffed some cold pints into my knapsack, while Sterling loaded his pockets with Korean bulgogi sausages and eggs to throw at the dogs. He was convinced that this would keep them quiet enough for us to make a quick getaway.

The gas tower is a short ten minute walk from my apartment. On the way there, we discussed our plan of action. Sterling took the lead when we arrived and vaulted easily over the high rock wall to land quietly on the other side. I followed quickly with a leg up from Carlos and then he came crashing and rolling over the wall. He looked so comical sitting on his butt with the sarong thrown backwards over his head. Sterling and I were often treated to Carlos’ frequent displays of klutziness. We were quite impressed that he had agreed to the night’s adventure.

We trotted 500 yards across the grass to the foot of the stairs, keeping a close watch out for the dogs and guards. The stairs were worn, rusty and breaking away from the tower in places. In several places, the stairs had rusted out completely. They sent a dizzying wash of fear over me every time I looked down. The staircase swayed gently in the night wind and the space between me and the cold hard ground looked menacing. It was too late to go back. I wondered how my mother was going to react when she got a phone call about my terrific plunge from a gas tower in North East China.

We were 100 feet in the air when we saw our first guard, but he never looked up. The wind was blowing hard enough to make the stairs sway precariously as we climbed upwards on the spiraling metal staircase. The guards passed beneath our feet several times. Their black billy clubs gleamed in the moonlight. Sterling’s pants were soaked with egg white when we finally pulled ourselves over the edge. We grabbed a hold of the 12 inch rail that extended around the edge as a safety precaution and hand pulled our way up the thick steel cables running to the center of the tower. Elatedly, we settled down on our jackets and pulled out our celebratory bottles of beer. There seemed to be no end in sight to the quiet, sleepy city and the night sky glowed with a million stars. The sparkling city lights extended well past our view – all along the gas tower.

A Beijing film crew showed up just before Halloween 2003 to interview me for the Arts in Our Land competition in Beijing. My boss had been the host of the show the year before and he insisted that they come to hear me sing. My primary interview was a few short clips about my life here in Changchun. They followed me around for a few days and filmed me while I was teaching, at home or out on the town. Then, I was offered an all-expense paid trip to Bejing to perform a love song (fromn Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) in Chinese. This offer quickly snowballed when Changchun television heard of my trip to Beijing. They had been looking for local talent within the city and heard about me from one of the directors in Bejing. They asked me to participate in their Christmas TV show, which aired on the 26th of December. The Changchun show was taped two days before I left for Beijing, so it was a hectic, but fun filled month.

My boss, David, and I left for Beijing on the 12th of December, 2003. Our first night in Beijing was a tough one as the TV station wanted assurances that I actually knew my song in Chinese. I met with my Chinese vocal coaches two hours after arriving in Bejing. All of the performers were asked to attend and although it was a little intimidating at first, it also gave me the opportunity to meet the other contestants and scope out the talent. It was interesting to work with the vocal coaches. The hard part about speaking or singing in Chinese is learning how to do it from the front of your mouth. It doesn’t sound hard but believe me, it was tough. We lived, ate and breathed music every single day for twelve hours a day. I also spent several days in the recording studio. A few of us were asked to tape the opening and final numbers for the show. They gave the lyrics (in pinyin) to us the night before we went in. It took a couple of hours to get the first song recorded but we had a ton of fun while we were doing it.

Shortly after arriving in Beijing, I was told that my vocal performance would count for only some of my marks. I had to participate in a reality show as well. The TV station arranged for us to go to an open food market, where we learned to make a traditional dish called la mien (long Chinese noodles). We had to make and sell our food on the street. I was at a serious disadvantage for this part of the show. I speak passable Chinese and can hold my own in a basic conversation (especially if it involves shopping!) but I found it really difficult. I managed to sell a dozen bowls of noodles with a lot of smiling and friendly pushing and prodding.

The third part of the competition involved an interview after our performance. By the way, I placed third out of an astounding fifty awesome performances. Most of the performers were singers, but there were also several KungFu acts, acting, and shao pin (a form of rapid crosstalk without script). I met people from Germany, Russia, France, New Zealand, Italy, England, Uzbekistan(sp??), Muldova, Vietnam, Korea, Japan and the USA. I was the only Canadian performer.

I was really impressed with everyone I met and it was interesting to speak with the other performers. Most of them had been in China for three years or more. Some of them were still students; others were working in the entertainment business. Performing in this television show was just another step up for them. Several of the Kung Fu students that I met are actually stuntmen and had worked with Jackie Chan, Michelle Yeoh and Jet Li. I made fast friends with so many people. At the end of the day, I had to pinch my arm to remind myself that it was a competition. For two weeks, we ate, slept, performed and hung out together. It was simply amazing and it was so hard to go back to Changchun after all the excitement. Luckily, I was able to return to Beijing a few months later to reconnect with everyone on the show. And, I have to admit, it was pretty cool watching it all on TV.

In addition to my job at Bai Da Wei English school, I had also accepted a job at a primary school, teaching English to SIXTY grade one students, twice a week, in a classroom the size of a shoebox. Chinese public schools are vastly different from schools back home. There are good schools and bad schools, depending on the amount of funding the school recieves. The one I worked at was not well funded. It didn’t have any heat. Kids sat in class in their winter coats, mao kouzi (thick woolen long underwear) mittens, hats, scarfs, boots and snow pants. Coal was shoveled by students throughout the day, in order to have hot water for the kitchen.

It was a challenge. My homeroom teachers didn’t speak any English and I didn’t have a TA. I was left alone with 60 kids who didn’t know more than their ABC’s and hadn’t been taught classroom commands. It was horrid! The problem with kids this age is that they have zero attention span. I couldn’t get them to listen to me and I tried everything. I called my mom and asked her what she thought I should do, as she’s a kindergarten teacher. She told me to try singing. It didn’t work. She told me to buy a sock puppet. It didn’t work. Try using a cowbell everytime they get noisy. Nope. Nada. I turned the lights off and they would scream like maniacs. Nothing worked. I dreaded the rest of the contract, but I was determined to stick with it even though I wanted to walk out halfway through every class. The problem was, I loved the kids. They were so sweet. They would give me little pictures, stickers, candies and hugs every class but they didnt understand me and it was so frustrating. I finally resorted to plying them with stickers in order to keep them in line. I was a little sad when I left that school.

Being a teacher in China changed my life. I never thought I would be good at it. When I first arrived, I was looking at the job as a travel opportunity. I wasn’t thinking about the role I would be playing in a classroom. I didn’t think I would get so attached to my students. Watching them learn and grow throughout the year was an experience I’ll never forget. That’s what’s so great about ESL teaching. You have tangible proof that your students are learning. To watch a child who has had no prior exposure to English start to mimic and then speak, I can’t tell you how proud I am of all my students. My confidence continues to grow with every class I teach.

I was sorting through some of my old emails and found this email addressed to a friend from late fall 2003.

“Most of my time has been spent teaching, writing lesson plans or studying (OK – I admit, I do a lot of shopping here as well). I love taking off for a day and going to a new part of the city and getting lost in the crowds. There’s still so much to see and do here. It has snowed every day this week. This week’s main attraction has been watching how the Chinese deal with massive amounts of snow. Can you believe they don’t have any snow-removal machinery here? Everything is done by hand! I’ve gotten up early the last two mornings to watch the university students shovel snow off the sidewalks and main roads. It’s pretty funny – hundreds of kids in the streets with little hand shovels. Driving on the roads is even more hazardous than it was this summer. I thought the drivers here were crazy when I got here but now I know they are for sure! No one uses snowtires. No one wears seatbelts. There are heaps of snow and ice in the streets. They don’t put salt or sand down to take care of the ice. It’s utter chaos! But, it’s beautiful here this time of year too.

I can’t quite believe it’s December already and was starting to wonder what Christmas would be like here. It still surprises me that there are so many places here in China that remind me so much of home. I still get a sense of wonder, that I’m even here, so far away from everything. When I think of the fear and trepidation I felt this time last year, I have to smile. Things got much easier as my departure time drew near. I thought this year would be so difficult and here I am, eight months later. I’m blinking my eyes, asking myself where the time went. I’m looking at the last quarter of my year here. Part of me can’t wait to go home and see everyone. But I know when I get back to Canada that I’ll be counting the days until I come back here. And yes, I’ve had tons of excitement already and there’s more to come.

I leave for Beijing on the 11th of December for ten days. Beijing TV is flying me there and putting me up in a hotel until we are finished taping the show. This will be my first trip to Beijing. The show will air over the Spring Festival holiday. It’s called, “Arts in Our Land.” In the meantime, I’ve been practicing some Christmas carols. I’m performing here in the city on the 10th. It’s been a little more difficult than I thought, learning these Chinese songs. I’m singing the love song from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon….I’m not sure if you’re familiar with it. It’s beautiful. This is the third song that Beijing TV has asked me to learn and I’m still not sure how all of this is going to work. Apparently, this is a pretty big show. My whole act has to be choreographed. I’m hoping that they give me some time to do some sightseeing in Beijing. There’s too much history there for me to miss. My boss is going with me. He’s a professional musician from Atlanta, so he’s been an incredible help. He’s the one who entered me into the competition. I went into the recording studio on Friday last week to finish a Christmas CD with him. It sounds great. Today I went to Bei Feng to have my gowns made for the trip to Beijing. I’ve got three evening gowns to take with me and they’re so beautiful!

What else? I’ll be back in Changchun for the 22nd. I bought a little Christmas tree last week and I have it set up in my dining room. My parents have sent me a few x-mas packages already so I’ve got my gifts under the tree. I’ve got a great group of friends here, from all over the world. We’re getting together on Christmas morning for brunch.

Anyways, in answer to your question about Western holidays – the Chinese don’t celebrate Christmas or Halloween. Our school has parties to teach our students about these Western holidays. They’re always a big success. However, if you can imagine a three or four year old seeing Santa or learning about ghosts, witches and pumpkins for the first time ever….well, I’m sure you get my drift. Some of them are terrified. I organized the Haunted House for our Halloween party this year and we had a lot of screamers. I had kids hanging off of me because they were so scared. But everyone had a lot of fun. It’s great to see kids of any age go trick or treating for the first time.

I’m very very happy and loving every second of my time here. I can’t wait to see all of you when I come home.”

The summer of 2003 flew by and finally culminated in a trip to Chang Bai Shan – a large mountain located along the North Korean border with a volcanic lake at the top. Tamara, Cristin and I had decided to have a girl trip to end the summer. We asked a Chinese friend of ours, Jack, to be our guide and interpreter.
We decided to spend three days there and against better advice from other teachers, we chose to travel by bus. It was probably the worst decision we had made all summer. We started off on our 12 hour journey with high spirits. It was our first time out of the city and we were getting our first look at the countryside. It was like taking a step back in time. Imagine green lush rice paddies, farmers tilling the wet soil with water bison, long rows of corn and giant sunflowers. It was breathtakingly beautiful and it looked like something straight out of a book. I was astonished to see how unspoiled the land was, especially after being in the dirty and polluted cities of North East China. Farmsteads were small, low, worn down and in desperate need of repair. Flocks of poultry, pigs and other barnyard animals roamed freely on the roads. There was no electricity and most of the people were dressed in handsewn clothing or second hand clothing. We passed a creek where women were washing their clothes by hand. Obviously, these people had endured hardships that I couldn’t begin to fathom, yet they looked so at peace. There was none of the hustle-bustle rat-race of city life. Chores weren’t hurried, people took their time and moved slowly through the paces of life. It was enchanting to see and I almost wished to have such a simple existence for myself. We stopped for a short lunch break in a small village. The villagers had never seen foreigners before and the three of us were instantly surrounded by curious faces, a few suspicious stares and quite a few wandering hands. We inhaled a quick lunch of boiled pork dumplings, most of which I wore on my chest after a rather embarrassing slip with my chopsticks. After that, we decided to walk through the village. We stopped to look at a lady making tea eggs and she gave us one to try. We took some pictures with her and promised to stop by on our way back to drop some off for her. (We did stop on our way back to Changchun. She was thrilled to have the pictures and insisted on fortifying us on our journey home with more of her tea eggs.)
Our uncomfortable ride intensified as we progressed on our trip towards Chang Bai Shan as the bus seemed to have some seriously ill shock absorbers. We spent most of the journey trying to hold ourselves down as the bus climbed and bumped treacherously across bridges and over narrow mountainous roadways. Twelve hours later, we were bruised and aching and we still had to locate accommodations for the night. Luckily, Jack sprang to our rescue and located a cheap hotel room for us in the small city of Bei He, which is at the base of the mountain. Our room had four dorm style beds with a slab of wood to sleep on with a quilt thrown on top for extra cushioning. We could barely stand the thought of sleeping there for the night and opted to go for massages to waste some time. The massages ended up making everything worse as the young Chinese ladies working on us were pounding so hard that we woke up with bruises the next day. Let me tell you, sleeping that night was not an easy feat after bouncing in a bus for 12 hours and then getting pounded by two Chinese girls for another hour. We managed to get some shut-eye and woke up early the next morning to meet our guide. Our trip was ill-fated right from the beginning and we knew it. Nevertheless, we persevered in the hope that things would start to get better. Ha! Our guide didn’t have a driver’s license and we got stopped at the foot of the mountain. We waited at the side of the rode for an hour for his friend to arrive and drive us up to the summit. Our new driver was a maniac and we almost flew off the side of the narrow road several times before arriving at the top of the mountain. When we arrived, he gave us 20 minutes to look around. We couldn’t see a thing because the mist and fog were so bad, so we snapped a few pictures and headed resolutely back to our car and driver. Alas, both had disappeared with all of our gear as we had stupidly left it in the trunk of the car. The day was getting worse. We had to wait for another hour before we could secure a ride back down the mountain. When we finally found someone to take us down, we were crammed like sardines in a can. We wandered around dejectedly for a few hours looking for our driver and as luck would have it, we finally found him and he had our stuff. We still had some time left, so we decided to take our things and make the hike up the mountain to the volcanic lake. The lake was spectacular and well worth the hike. Our driver actually stuck around this time and he stopped off at a few other scenic spots on the way back to our hotel. We thought he was just being nice after messing up our day so badly. Boy, were we ever wrong. He was busy racking up a bill of seismic proportions. We politely refused to pay the total bill and offered him what he had originally quoted us with a generous ‘tip’ thrown in for good measure. He took off in his car and returned an hour later with three friends and threatened to beat the hell out of us if we didn’t pay up. By that time, we were thoroughly disgusted and although we hated to do it, we paid up. There was nothing else we could do. The next morning we high tailed it out of there and climbed back on the bus from hell. The ride back to Changchun is easily the scariest ride I’ve ever been on. As we came down out of the mountains, there was very little road to be seen between us and a long drop into a deep valley. The roads were marked with piles of sand. Drivers were supposed to stay inside the piles but our driver had a death wish and we were lucky if he hit the middle of the pile. Our faces were glued to the window as we watched the pebbles and dirt from our passage tumble into the depths below. To top it off, the bus stopped every 15 minutes for anyone who was standing on the side of the road. The driver made a hefty amount of cash by picking up peasants and villagers that were headed into the city for a few days to find work. Soon, our bus was packed to the brim. People were sitting in the aisles, on the stairs, on each other. One woman was crammed against the front window. About two hours in, a man threw up and it caused a chain reaction. By the time the driver stopped, people had the windows rolled down and were squeezing out the windows to escape the foul air. We were stopped twice on the way home by the police. Each time, the driver had to pay a fine for overcrowding. He would yell at everyone to get off and they would start walking. As soon as he had dealt with the police, he would drive up the road and pick everyone up again. I have never been more relieved to arrive safely home in my entire life. Our first excursion out of the city had been a horrible one, but one that we would never ever forget!

The summer of 2003 was one of my most exciting summers in Changchun. The excitement of a new job, a new city and new friends meant that adventures were always plentiful. Every day was an adventure and I relished my new lifestyle. It took me a few months to get adjusted to life in Changchun. During the SARS scare, our school manager had set up a soccer game between three of the prominent language schools within the city. After the game, we would head back to Bai Da Wei Language School for dinner and drinks. I met some really fantastic people that summer, and I am still in contact with these people.
Claire, Tamara, Cristin and Janet were my first real friends in Changchun. We would gab the night away with ease and spent many nights doing just that. Their apartment was my home away from home. We had so much fun that summer, exploring the city, shopping, dining and checking out the local night spots. We were all new to the city and none of us spoke Chinese at the time, which meant that we were in it together. It was great. One of us was always able to bail us out of a tight situation. I can still remember being completely inebriated and driving around the city in a cab after the bars had closed. We would spend ages looking for restaurants that were still open and had pictures on the wall for us to order from. We especially loved going to the small “Mom and Pop” restaurants. One of our favorite haunts was (the self-appointed) “Ding Ding Chao Mien” restaurant, which was open 24 hours and served beer at any time of the day. We would go and load up on cold cheap pints and Korean BBQ. We also frequented a local dumpling restaurant, which was conveniently located right next to Tamara’s apartment. Sometimes we’d go bowling. We liked bowling because we could always get a huge group to go and the bowling alley would actually let us bring in our own food and drinks! This would never happen back home. It wouldn’t be allowed.
To be honest, there wasn’t much that we weren’t allowed to do while we were out. No real rules to follow. I think a lot of it had to do with our “white passports.” This doesn’t mean that my friends and I abused the system. We didn’t. But a lot of things we did were considered strange and alien, from the food we bought at the grocery store, to the clothes we wore, and especially the way we talked and acted. My Chinese teacher thought I was completely nuts because I didn’t wear winter long underwear when everyone else did. My Chinese friends would listen to the radio stations to be told when to stop wearing winter long underwear and when to start wearing it again. This resulted in most of the office girls coming to work on warm days sporting jeans or wool pants, heavy socks and long underwear underneath. They’d be uncomfortable and hot all day, but they thought I was the strange one because I wasn’t doing what everyone else was doing! I also knew a guy who was always getting into trouble. One night he came out of a car and jumped on to the roof of a parked car and then ran back and forth along the roofs of parked cars in the parking lot. He did some damage to the cars and people were getting quite angry. No one actually confronted him or told him to stop. In North America, he’d be arrested or taken to the police station, but in China, the police looked at his passport and let him go with a smile. So he kept on doing whatever he felt like doing and he was allowed to get away with it every time. I’m sure that the language barrier was the problem. People assumed we couldn’t speak the language or maybe they really didn’t care. Who knows? It was wild, the things that people were allowed to get away with.

By June 2003, the SARS scare was starting to die down and life had returned to normal. My classes at Bai Da Wei English School had resumed and I started working on improving my ESL teaching skills in the classroom. I had seven of my own classes, with students ranging from 4 to 14 years of age. Although my parents are both teachers, I discovered that I took after my Mom. The wee ones melted my heart and I anxiously looked forward to my two hours with them each week. It was tough going at first. After all, at that time, most of the people I encountered in Changchun had never seen a foreigner. I had quickly gotten used to people staring at me and yelling HELLLOOOOOOO!!!! whenever I was outside. Winning my students over was a little different. Two of my classes were ‘baby’ classes. The kids were really young and most of them were going through seperation anxiety. Plus, they had a strange looking woman in their classroom who they didn’t understand. It took them a week or two to stop crying whenever I came into the classroom. My next challenge was getting them to do what I wanted them to do. I had had plenty of volunteer experience in my Mother’s kindergarten classroom in Canada, but it wasn’t the same because I wasn’t dealing with Canadian students. At first, I thought that Canadian 4 year olds and Chinese 4 year olds were completely different. Then I discovered that kids are the same everywhere around the world. They want to have fun and they want to feel safe. I started introducing lots of songs and games into my lessons and stopped worrying so much about getting them into their bookwork and found that this worked really well. By the end of June, I had them eating out of the palm of my hand and parents couldn’t wait to bring them to my class. Teaching was so much fun. I simply loved my job. I had only been in China for three months and I already knew that I would be staying for a second year.

I was also making strides in my personal life as well. I had found a Chinese tutor and I met with her three times a week. North East China is not a place you can really get along in unless you speak some Chinese. I was sick of getting into cabs and grunting and shouting at cab drivers to make them understand. I was tired of having to bring a calculator with me if I wanted to buy something or taking a Chinese co-worker with me if I needed to go to the bank or get a hair cut. I was tired of play-acting to get what I wanted. The final straw came when I was at a clothing market and was trying to ask the sales woman what type of fur was on the trim of a Chinese jacket. I found myself hopping up and down, twitching my nose and holding two fingers to my ears to imitate a rabbit and realized – enough is enough! Even though I doubted my ability to learn a new language, I persevered and discovered that when I applied myself, I had a natural aptitude for languages. Within months, I had memorized several hundred characters and my tutor was pressing me to study harder.

In the meantime, my social network was expanding as I was growing more confident about being on my own in a strange country. Our school owned a restaurant on the first floor of our building. Our teaching staff would often meet there on Sunday nights and drink cold beers after a long day at work. The restaurant soon became well known amongst the ex-pat community for good food, nice folks and a decent music system that blasted whatever we felt like listening to. I met a lot of teachers from the other language schools in Changchun. We had some amazing parties there that summer. I met so many new people from different countries and I was endlessly fascinated with hearing everyone’s stories and what had brought them to China in the first place. More than a few times, I stumbled home in the small hours of the morning, happy and satisfied with the road that I was on.

I arrived in North East China on the 23rd of March, 2003. Gosh, it was the longest flight of my life. I was so scared and so nervous. I wasn’t sure what to think. Was I making a mistake? Was the leap that I was taking too big for me to handle on my own? Would people like me? Would I be able to teach? Would I be able to go for a whole year by myself without family or friends? I wrote in my diary non-stop. Jagged entry after jagged entry with some light snoozing in between. I met a few people on the flight who were absolutely shocked that I was moving so far away from home, especially to North East China. It certainly didn’t look like there was much to do where I was heading. My phone interview with the school had gone well and the headmaster had convinced me to fly into Beijing, where he and his partner would be there to meet me. I had the option of flying into Changchun, but he thought it would be more interesting to take the sleeper train from Beijing so I could see some of the countryside. I was met at the airport by two Chinese guys that barely spoke any English. Both of them turned out to be the nicest guys in the world, despite the language barrier. However, I have to admit that I was putty in their hands. I had no choice but to trust them and I had already heard so many stories of westerners being ripped off at the airport. We spent the night in a hostel and for a fleeting moment, I actually thought that we would all be bunking in the same dorm room. Thank God I was wrong. Nonetheless, I barely slept a wink that night for wondering whether I was stark raving mad. I was in the middle of Beijing with two Chinese men and I was further away from home than I had ever been in my life. I was stuck. The next day, we got on a sleeper train and headed 13 hours northeast to Changchun. I slept like the dead for the entire trip and barely saw anything worth noting. I arrived at 2am and was met at the train station by our teacher supervisor – a wonderful Australian girl named Nell. She took me under her wing and I stayed with her until my apartment was ready for me to move into. Nell was great and I don’t know what I would have done without her those first few weeks. She organized soccer matches and dinners with the other teachers at our school and other foreign language schools within the city. When I moved to Changchun, there were barely 300 Westerners living in a city of 7 million. It was quite intimidating. I didn’t speak Chinese and I didn’t know anybody. I spent a lot of time at the park those first six weeks. I liked to sit on the grass and watch people flying their kites. I would write in my journal daily. Every single day was a challenge. I couldn’t talk to anybody. I couldn’t do simple things like shop for food or answer the phone. I couldn’t even get the lock open on my door and on more than one occasion, was locked outside or inside of my apartment. I couldn’t take the bus or take a taxi anywhere because I didn’t know how to get back to my apartment. Within a week, I had had enough and finally hopped on a bus and rode it to the end of the line and back just to see some of the city. About a month into my contract, SARS hit and almost all the foreign teachers in the city were sent home. My school gave me the option of staying on at reduced pay and so that is what I did. The city was like a ghost town. No one was in the streets and when people did go out, everyone wore hospital masks. The funny thing was, everyone was so scared and paranoid of SARS but you could go to the grocery store and someone would always take their mask off to cough or sneeze. Everyone would start freaking out. It was really a trying time and by the end of six weeks, I was wondering if I had made a mistake. SARS had put a hold on absolutely everything. Gradually, things returned to normal and by June, everything was fine again. I had found a Chinese tutor and was gradually learning Mandarin Chinese. I was given a Chinese name “weixiaotianshi” (Smiling Angel) and was starting to become familiar with my new Chinese friends and co-workers. Best of all, summer was on its way and I had met some really cool people to hang out with. I had started to carve a niche for myself in Changchun, China.