Tuesday September 26, 2000

Met my new chinese friend Daniel today and we went to Beilin museum - "The forest of steles museum". He is very intelligent and knows a diversity of things, from calligraphy to buddhism to physics (his major). It was windy, fall today, leaves dropping and slightly overcast by this afternoon. As we wandered from building to building he translated and taught me, using a mixture of english and chinese. I saw the original stone texts of the IChing. It was surprising and overwhelming, and I had such a wonderful guide - he corrected my grammar and just kept teaching, idioms, common words and usages.

He is active and energetic, always telling me xiaoxin [literally, little heart, which means "be careful"], for I am always lost in fascination with all that is around me, forgetting there are steps and cars.

As we passed one tablet he pointed out the large characters zhu yin - the song of bamboo when the wind blows through them, knocking them together. I am understanding more and more the depth of chinese, of knowing another language. The brevity and expressiveness of characters is uncaptured in english. It is truely a poetic language, visual and seductive. I was caught by these two simple characters, I heard the sounds, clacking, knocking of the bamboo without any of those words describing the noise. But it is all conjured up in two simple words - bamboo song.

I asked Daniel why chinese people don't come here, aren't studying, living by and with these ancient texts. He said in modern times it is out of date, though he understood me. I told him I felt that those two characters were the most important and real meaning of life and existence. "Nature is everything and man is part of nature," he said nodding. So I asked why all the studying, the money. He said it's modern china, they owe it to their country to modernize. I ask why.
"Because we have to catch up to you, we have to improve our country."
I responded, "It isn't improvement, all the meaning is right there in those characters. In the States its all running aroud, always doing something, all distractions from the real life."
"But one has to modernize"
I asked again, "but why?" No animosity, both of us were very excited, cheeks rosy with anticipation of our conversation, implications, and the fall air. And his whole face lit up as he understood my questions and logic and meaning. And he told me a tale that this reminded him of:

There was a fisherman lying on a bench and a rich man came up and asked him why he was lying there. The fisherman asked what should he be doing? "Go and work in the field!"
"What should I do in the field?"
"Plant vegetables."
"And what do I do when the vegetables are grown?"
"Sell them in the market and get some money."
"And what to do with the money?"
"After you have money you can take a rest."
"And so here I am already resting."

And my friend told me also that china needed to make money and later they can rest and come back to these steles when they have modernized.

I know that at times a culture has to be active and at times passive. China is active and chasing right now, but it has all its secrets in plain sight. how to live in a period of such majestic philosophy. yet it was only for the intellectuals. the rest of the country was fraught with famine, disease, draught. how can one know the truth? Today I also saw zhong yong - the Middle Path.

[Looking back at this from 2009 and where my life is now, I can hardly believe I got to stand in front of this carving, I had forgotten that I'd seen it in person]

September 24, 2000

I just heard men's voices giggling like girls and some strange exclamations. I looked out the window and on the balcony across the lane I saw two men, one bent in the corner over something and the other laughs and steps inside his door peeking out. The first man stood up and the other pointed out. He smiled and threw something over the balcony. I stepped forward to look down and see the body of a large rat, accompanied in my head with the sound of the splat, flat on the ground. It will lie dead there for quite some time I suspect.

**

Evening once again. I bought a beautiful new red bike. I wonder what has made me decide to get a nice new bike after two were stolen. I think I was careless with the last two and this one I won't be because it's so obvious. Perhaps this is rediculous logic though.

Thursday September 21, 2000

I lost my bike yesterday. Carelessness, I left it outside the computer center for a few days. I went in to use the internet today and tried writing a letter but it broke me up with bitterness and I couldn't send it. As I left I walked along the path between the gardens, eyes all full of tears and crying heavily inside. I wondered what I would do if I met someone at that moment. I would tell them I lost my bike, laughing because I felt like such a little girl, crying because I lost something precious. But really I have a broken heart.

I think of home, of the rooms, my rooms, of new york and all else. Now I can understand how prisoners can walk through their homes and look at everything those days and nights away, as in The Stranger. With time and a small effort I too could conjure up my house in college, possibly the house on Tuttle Rd [my first].

I smell coal outside, briefly. I think of eastern europe and wonder about love.

Wednesday September 20, 2000

Tonite there was a funeral in the street. They parade the street with cymbals and trumpets, chaotic and noise and utterly pleasurable to my ears because its devoid of perfection, it is simple and honest, not formal and empty.

Saturday September 16, 2000

[Another letter home]

Last night I went to Hua Shan. Shan is mountain and Hua, well, its something along the lines of brilliant magnificent splendid (or so my pocket dictionary tells me). But the mountain tells me no different. I made a pilgrimage this weekend, not knowing it beforehand. It swept me up when I passed beyond my third or fourth exhaustion, around 2 or 3 in the morning. but anyway, the beginning...

The weather right now is probably as good as it’s going to get, crispy morning air and the occasional leaf falling and just the right layer of clothes. Plus enough wind to blow away some of the pollution and see blue sky in Xian. So on Friday in my second class three boys packed up their books saying they were going to Hua Shan and sorry to the teacher. I immediately packed up my books too and went with them.

With three other korean girls we took a train to Hua Shan. That makes 7 of us, two boys from switzerland, one from italy, the korean girls and me. The train, 2 1/2 hours, was about 1 dollar for no seats. We girls were gallantly shifted from seat to seat by men who were traveling about 36 hours south to Xiamen. For them 2 hours is nothing. But the white boys got to stand in the aisles.

Arriving 15 km from Hua Shan we took a taxi which didn't drop us off at the mountain, but at a restaurant in late afternoon. Hua Shan is one of five sacred mountains in China, 2500 meters or so high, taoist temples along the way up, caves high in the granite rocks with chains and cut-out foot notches to pull yourself up with characters painted on the rocks telling names and stories. There are a few ways of getting up to the top, the easiest being an Austrian-built cablecar. The next easiest being hiking up the 6 km of sheer cliffs during the day. The last option is hiking up at night and arriving at dawn to see the sunrise. Needless to say we took the last.

A few things to set the scene: it’s china first of all so hiking means cemented path with several gates to pay at (they figure when they've gotten you to pay 80 kuai you won't go back so they'll charge you another 20 a few hundred feet later). Second on the set is that last tuesday was the second biggest festival known in translation as the Mid-Autumn Festival. In true pagan spirit it’s on the full moon and everyone sits outside with candles and sings. So on this friday we had a nearly full moon.

There is of course tradition, which is to arrive in Hua Shan and sleep a couple hours in a room for too much money and then start hiking at 11 or midnight and that gets you there around dawn. The korean girls could sleep but we westerners were too excited to be out of the city to take a nap. Plus I was with swiss boys who insisted it was unnecessary for them to rest before climbing a mountain (to their credit they arrived at the top an hour before my italian friend and I, and a full three hours before the korean ladies).

While we waited the evening out we drank tea and met some very very drunk chinese who insisted we drink some bai jiu (white liquor made from something terrible and tasting even worse) and made friends and so on.

At 11 we began by passing through several of those red sloping roof gates that make china so picturesque, paying at each of them. Then through a temple and then the upward climb.

It's magic as soon as you forget about being a foreigner (for they make you pay more). The moon the moon the moon, nothing does what the moon does to the world when it’s bright and blue on the skin of mountains peeled away from the bushes and trees of its surface. Crossing white chinese bridges with massive white boulders beneath and only the sound of water reflected off the earth to tell you it’s there. I discovered on the train that two of the boys were photographers, and when I remarked as we walked that it was like walking in a negative one of them let out an audible breath, for this is really what it was like. It was so bright there was simply no need for flashlights. There were shadows were there should have been light, and where there should have been shadow it was like the underworld was lit up in blue water.

As for the path, made out of white granite rocks, like hansel and gretel they lit up the trail unnaturally - or super-naturally. But make no mistake, even a semi-paved trail cannot make the climb easy. For the first 3 km it’s a steep path upwards, with plenty of small shacks and stone pavilions with chairs and tea and apples and cucumbers to nibble. At some points the path is right in your face it’s so steep. But then comes the stairs. The last 3 km are steps cutting into the mountain with chains along the sides to pull yourself up with. There's no real break in the steps, just turn the corner and face several more hundred feet of stairs going straight up. The first set of stairs is at least 200 feet to a reststop, and to stop in the middle of them is death. It’s a shock, for even knowing that there are that many stairs is incredulous and you think they must be the end but they are not, not at all. The great fear is of looking up for then you just can't imagine taking another step. but you do.

With a recipe like this - all these stairs and all night long and altitude and the mountains rising up on all sides and the singular fact of the moon, well, it's no surprise that it turns into a nearly hallucinatory experience of pure beauty and loss of self, fully absorbed by the natural world around you. For the chinese are decidedly pagans and no church or temple will do what the natural world will do without being asked, on its own, you there or not. The chinese just know to go there.

We climbed and we were not alone, for it is china. And there are people everywhere all the time! At one point, at the sheerest point, with steps only the width of half of my shoe, at 3 in the morning, I was waiting in a line, step by step, with chinese before me and chinese behind p. Somewhere above us were the swiss boys doing credit to their country.

I surpassed physical presence several times, over and over again. We asked ourselves what our legs would feel like tomorrow, and eventually asked ourselves what our legs felt like right now.
At one point p and I sat down on the steps and talked about china with confusion and awe and ideas and more confusion. We were looking out between the crack of the mountains on either side, both of us blue, clear air and chinese people passing, continually commenting on the laowai [foreigners]. We discussed how china is so huge it incorporates everything, turns everything chinese. And it was spiritual in the bathwaters of blue negation, a swamp of reversal.

And when I started climbing again step by step the thought occurred to me that this is what a pilgrimage is, and I had never really thought about it before, but it means to do something beyond yourself for the sake of whatever is beyond you. And it was religious from that point on and really I felt no tiredness or pain anymore, simply rising with the mountain.

When we got to the 10-foot-long stretch of level ground right before the last set of stairs, we were greeted by policemen who check your ticket to make sure you paid. I didn't even have the energy to laugh, I just searched blindly through my pockets and moved on.

When we paused to wait for others I would become very cold and shiver and feel sleep coming on like a shadow under light approaching its apex, to collide violently with my senses and set them in slumber. But I held off until the end, the top of the mountain, where p. and I met up with the swiss boys and we ate chicken roll on chinese bing.

I was the first to lay down on the steps. We slept the rest of the darkness away, fitfully for we were wet with sweat and upon stopping the wind swept away all our body heat. Even with long underwear wool socks 4 shirts a jacket and a thermal tied around my head, it was freezing. I don't know how long I slept but when I next sat up everyone was holding their bags and curled up on the steps like cats.

The sun rose and it was delirium. It seemed that I had all the crises of a real transformation, though later in the blasted sunlight all I was left with was silver threads and a memory of the tapestry.

The three boys climbed back down and the korean ladies took the cablecar down and I rented a bed for a few hours (there are hostels up top - stone and small between the rocks and cliffs). I couldn't leave the mountain so soon after such an effort (psychically or physically).

I got up around 11 to the deafening sound of chinese tourists up on the mountain for the day via cablecar. I walked around a bit and decided to slip into some bushes to sleep off the rest of my exhaustion. The chinese will sleep anywhere but in solitude it seems. I saw one guy in a ditch beside some stairs in mid-afternoon. But I managed to find some dirt and small purple flowers and trees to scatter shade on my skin and I napped for several more hours. I woke up and sat on some chairs and listened to a few businessmen urge each other to speak some english to me while I made my lunch (chemical soup, aka, ramen noodles). After a few minutes of listening to them, I turned to them and told them they could ask me themselves as I could speak chinese. Shouts of laughter and great satisfaction on my part, followed by a not so interesting conversation about money.

When the chinese were quiet enough I heard someone playing the flute deep down below the ravine.

Halfway through my walk down the mountain I felt a lightness pervade me. I ate chocolate sitting on a boulder. Dropping off to the right were more white boulders with water so clear you could only tell it was there by the noise and the dampened part of the rocks. My knees were weak beyond functioning but I didn't care because I met a beautiful tiny old lady who lives in these rocks, white hair pulled away from her wrinkled tanned face and fastened neatly in a bun and a black leather band an inch wide running all around her head.

Her eyes were black shiny marbles tucked under stretched flaps of skin and she spoke a dialect I couldn't understand. But we smiled and her eyes scattered light against the rocks and against my face. She gave me a glass of hot water, as I'm sure it was all she had. She kept stepping out on the path and looking up at the mountain.

And I came slowly farther down, down down steps and stopped to sit in a chair and had tea with a beautiful girl woman who spoke very slowly and clearly about china and huashan and her family and food and her life. We drank and talked for 15 minutes and she wouldn't let me pay for the tea.

Coming down the mountain the workmen sang loudly against the rocks and steps and offer to carry my bag sweetly. We talk slowly because its all a dialect but we manage to communicate while the spring down the steps in soft chinese shoes and rubber strong legs, giving and taking with the mountain as it sees fit.

And now back in Xian, showered and munching on peanut butter and crackers.

Saturday September 9, 2000

I went to the market, so amazingly crowded and huge, everything one could possibly need is there. I parked my bike outside and entered the stalls, the aisles, the shoes, bras, jackets, bedding, wires, teapots, stockings, towels umbrellas cups water filters speakers lights clocks rugs fabric pillows food tea brooms incense, shiny red decorations, paintings. All modern, no old kitsch at this market. and on a saturday you can believe there are a million million things and people. It's such a good feeling to be swept up in the mass of people, to be in China alone -

-(interrupted by yet another call to teach english) -

alone and on my own, unaware of myself because there's no one next to me to make me feel conscious of everything. No need to smile in admittance, no need to share, articulate. It all falls back on myself, deepening because it is not lost to someone else.

Thursday September 7, 2000

I wake this morning to hear "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" on the loudspeakers around campus. The music announced breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Sunday September 3, 2000

Jin Mei Lian returned from Korea. I was perched on my bench outside as usual and she came out. Said she was happy to be back in China because she doesn't have to listen to anyone tell her what to do here. The other korean girl agreed, adjusted her posture for home - hands clasped, shoulders forward, face down and eyes up. a nod. servile.

Wednesday August 30, 2000

"The sprig [of plum blossoms], even when deprived of its blossoms, is beautiful because it lives, because it expresses a living impulse to grow. The outline of every tree expresses a rhythm resulting from certain organic impulses, the impulse to grow and reach out toward the sunshine, the impulse to maintain equilibrium, and the necessity of resisting the movement of the wind. Every tree is beautiful because it suggests these impulses, and particularly because it suggests a movement towards somewhere, a stretching toward something. It has not tried to be beautiful. It has only wanted to live."

- Li Yutang

**

Liu Laoshi asked me today about the books on my desk. and I tell her more than she wants to hear. I know because I see her body tighten, rather than loosen. Should I have only told her the little bits that she wanted to know? anais nin, and semantics, what I study in the States? It is so far removed from the ways studies are pursued here, I have not really met anyone who is studying what they want here - even Zhang Xin has problems because he is required to waste his time. When I told him about writing your own major in the States he was in a daze for the rest of my visit, head full of imaginings and not fully daring to hope they'd be true. oh the freedom to study.

Tuesday August 29, 2000

Dreamt that I was climbing Mt. Everest. Got to a point where there was a small busy town. I hired a guide to take me up, a boy about my age. He gives me some equipment, because I have nothing with me except my blue northface jacket. The boy and I are very comfortable with each other, physically. We kiss and touch simply, without even realizing what it means. He's been living there for a while. Beautiful clothes, a round beautiful face. There is a social life up there. We meet other guides, his friends. He's to be married to a girl, but without speaking we're in love. He doesn't tell me about the girl, but I know because she comes around, I put pieces together. He doesn't want to hurt her but we both know he can't be with her. There is snow and sunshine and peaks everywhere. We smoke and he's lying in my lap - his head. We are so close. I woke up so peaceful.

Monday August 28, 2000

I got sick again last night, violent violent cramps in my intestine and everytime I felt them it woke me up moaning. Trips to the bathroom, but the cramps were the worst. So tired. Eventually I took some immodium and some advil and they stopped, I could sleep.

But how busy my phone is when I am here! At 7:30 Wang Zhu called, wanting to come see me. I sitting naked on the stool trying to unmuddle my head and make it clear in chinese that I am sick, I don't need her to bring medicine, and not to come see me until after noon. She says she'll call back at 8:00. But I manage to get it across that all I want to do is sleep.

Then the doctor calls me about lending him an english book. I am happy to have these friends but for them I am only one of a few people they know and want to be friends with. For me I am constantly being approached and talked to and I have to make obligations. In china you keep your obligations, its quite rude to not arrive or be late or something. It means I have to plan ahead extensively and always have excuses ready.

Wednesday August 27, 2000 part 2

An interesting evening. I met with the girls from the street yesterday. I was buying my tea and they asked if I was a liuxuesheng [international student]. We chatted and decided to meet tonite. I was bringing my dinner to the garden to eat and read. While I was waiting for one girl to return from her dinner the pakistani boy leaned out his window and asked if I was busy. I said no, and he came out. He's so nervous, quickly bursting out with all his information - his family is full of doctors and he has to be a doctor, no choice. I tell him I study linguistics and he doesn't know this field, merely says, "oh, you have all sorts of studies over there, in pakistan you are a doctor or an engineer."

I realize he's homesick and still adjusting, so very nervous! I listen to him, let him relax some more, calming myself down so that he will feel more comfortable. While we are talking my chinese friend returns. She too is extremely nervous, put off because I think she expected me alone.

But I translate for both of them and she talks chinese to him, he not understanding a thing, and he continues a separate conversation with me, telling me more about himself. I am amused by all this because I am translating and my chinese is so limited, my vocabulary too small. man man lai, it comes slowly.

So another pakistani joins us and then some other chinese students, and we are all having these circular conversations, I'm speaking both chinese and english, happy to be with people.

Somehow while we are talking the chinese girl - Wang Zhu, says Indu, wondering if he is from India. He is offended (though no grudge) saying - do I look like a Hindu? no no. And then politics comes in, the Pakistanis talking about a group of people fighting for their freedom in India. I do not know anything about this, wondering what to say, how to react. and the pakistanis are quite adament, wanting to talk about it, explain and for me to translate. I don't know these words, so I can't explain. It is dropped. Only to then bring up the topic of the respect women are given in pakistan, that they don't have to work, they get to live at home. When they came to china and saw a woman bus driver they were shocked and felt terrible, seeing women work so hard. but his mother is a doctor, I should ask about that.

The pakistani boys leave and I stay talking with the chinese girls. oh the girls in china! it's so easy to be a girl here, to talk about adorable animals and boyfriends and getting married. Wang Zhu is homesick, cried for her family. I realize how independent I am, americans are. It allows me to do a great deal, but there is also a great value in the interdependence and reliance on family-oriented cultures. so many new choices are available to me, ways to live my life, mostly family-wise.

Wednesday August 27, 2000

Every morning without rain I sit and eat breakfast in the garden out front until the mosquitos drive me in. Still having strange mood swings. This morning, nearly every morning, I have extreme elation, comprehension, appreciation for simplicity, nature. Childish wonderment and fascination with the world, the trees, light patterns. As I walked back from getting my breakfast the air was splendid on my skin, in my clothes, liangkuai. I imagined someone would think I had a lover from my expression, demeanor, gait. I replied yes, I do, its the air, caressing my body all morning as I awake.

And then I have class with Liu Laoshi. She arrived and we were both pleased. I asked her if there was a reason and she said no, just general. I agreed completely. But as I begin to practice I feel deep frustration because I am not getting it, the 3rd tone gives me such trouble. I am quite unused to having to work so hard. This learning chinese is physical, I have to train my voice to work very differently. If it were thinking more or differently I could understand it by now, my progress would be greater. But speaking chinese is just practice practice practice. I start to feel badly, depressed. I must keep going, practicing by myself.

Saturday August 26, 2000

Kane [mongolian, who runs a backpacker cafe on the other side of town], sitting outside on the bench with him, comfortable in the shade of overlapping leaf patterns. We talk about my studying chinese, kane's studies. He tells me that the people I meet here, the students, are like children, pure and innocent. He reminices, nostalgic for his student days, amazed at his nieveness. "you and me, we are adults."

And in the light of day, filtered through translucent green skins, I know what he means, what he is, and I am lucky to know him. He is a real soul, straight, introspective, with clear intuitions. He is 27. dealing with his dream, his cafe. passion, dedication, reason, sensibility. rare in the chinese close to my age.

I think of Patrick a lot these days. The decisions about his life here. Rejection of all the waiguoren [foreigners]. I know I need to do the same, but chinese are hard to relate to. I feel more cynical.

Wednesday August 23, 2000

[A letter written to those at home]

I have begun a real friendship here at last, with my chinese tutor, she is much like me in interests, though our lives are decidedly different. She is a secret artist, but as that is not really an option she now studies international trade. I give her drawing classes and she drills me on my tones. And we talk a lot, chinglish. Anyway, this story begins when she tells me she has been asked to find a foreigner to do some translating for a chinese company, very good pay and a very good opportunity. After my teaching stint in Tianjin I swore off working for chinese companies. It is unfathomably different culturally from the US and I have found I do not accept many of the rules. However something about this job seemed intriguing and besides, she was presenting me with a favor by offering it to me. I figure if I liked it I'd have some extra money.

So off we go to meet the "bossman" as he is referred to (in english) by everyone around him. He owns a company which makes embroidery machines and opens businesses in developing countries. I arrive with my friend Liu Laoshi and her boss Cao Xiansheng. We enter a large meeting room with all the lights turned off and a cloud of smoke so thick I immediately cough. Out file about 10 people and they all scram for the bossman. We sit down and I am trying to act like the demure young lady I should be in china (groan groan groan). The interview begins with shameless boasting about money and power of the bossman, both by himself and by Mr Cao, obviously his subordinate. I don't really know how to react, inwardly I am completely disgusted with this blatant desire to impress me into submission and subordination. Outwardly I try to remember that this is china and this is how it goes and I should just be polite, after all, it’s interesting. So I say nothing and sort of nod my head. The trouble with trying to impress someone is that you run the risk of looking like a fool because they can beat you at your own game. I am very young and so they feel comfortable telling me how great and powerful and sophisticated this bossman is by all his material wealth. But one really ought not describe these things to someone from a country where the minimum wage is beyond most chinese people's dreams. I do not mean that americans are better than them in any way, I just mean that I am not going to be impressed by this guy's material wealth, I might be impressed by his character or his hard work or his intelligence or charm or politeness, all of which he is completely lacking in.

The guy is very fat by chinese standards, which if you are han chinese means you are wealthy (only han because other races have naturally larger people, mongolian and so on). Anyway, he tells me he is fat because he does absolutely nothing for himself as he is so rich. His secretary types while the screen is projected onto the wall and he can tell her what to do hahaha, someone always brings him his tea and cigarettes ohhahahahaha, yes, his wife takes care of all the money because he is too lazy to do anything, hohohohahaha. He has companies in 14 countries and whenever partners come over they say they want to live in china because the chinese women and the chinese food is the best in the world, and he won't leave because he's so lazy (he is describing himself this way). I bite my lip and say yeah. And then he tells me that his partners are really going to think he's rich and powerful because he has a white secretary now, hahahahahahahahahah. I tell him my priorities are to learn chinese so I won't know my schedule until school starts, and he says he is a better teacher of chinese than my friend Liu Laoshi, and after working for him I won't need another teacher. At this I am thoroughly offended for Liu Laoshi because he has basically just insulted her. I look at her and she just smiles and says yes, its true.

We take some sort of break at which time bossman introduces me to his new chinese employee who speaks english and is about my age. Immediately this kid starts doing impressions of Howard Stern. Apparently some american thought he would give the chinese a taste of the real america and gave him a cassette tape (at least it wasn't video). Now, in the states I can understand that Howard Stern plays a certain role touching all the nerves of what people think but don't say. However in china it is way way way out of context. And in a business interview it is just flat out rude and uncomfortable when I am supposed to laugh and be impressed by this kid's expert knowledge of american culture and english. No one else understands what he is saying, but I'm quite sure that he knows what he is saying, and just thinks that all americans talk about sex and women and men and racism and so on. I try to explain that its inappropriate in certain contexts. Like the present one. But he doesn't stop and so on top of hearing a lot of bullshit about money I now have to hear a lot of bullshit about sex. And at every pause in conversation throws out american idioms to paraphrase the situation. Extremely tacky.

Meanwhile everyone is sucking the boss's ass and praising him. We get in his car and drive 20 feet to look at his factory. This was by far the most interesting part of the day. Still, it was an event of no modesty, all subordination, trying to impress me with money and knowledge about american culture. Everything in me rises to reject these mannerisms. They have never seen the US, and yet I am supposed to respect this man's wealth and knowledge and huge factories and world-wide enterprise. I am supposed to defer to him, act like a polite woman. The confidence with which I walk through the office is out of place, but I just cannot tolerate shameless boasting and attempts to awe me with salary and prestige. If they only knew a little more about the world than their small pond and the huge sharks that they are. I cannot tolerate becoming a showpiece for him to impress his foreign partners at having a white secretary.

As we tour the factory which is fascinating, I think, ok, I'll work here and I can take pictures and it'll be great. After all, these blunders are really just cultural, excusable. So we all go out to dinner. And at dinner I learned a lot about culture. That morals, values, political correctness are just education. As far as I can tell there really isn't any hard and fast ethics on the planet.

At dinner the bossman orders all the food and tells me what favors he is doing for me by giving me the best food and taking me out to eat (we are all in a private dining room). Oh, first I'll set up the scene. You sit in ranking order, which I have heard about and known, but its still fascinating to see it all happen silently. Bossman sits first with an empty seat to his right (purposely empty, as there were two empty seats and they took away one). Then me the white girl, then Mr. Cao, then Liu Laoshi who introduced me to them, then the english speaking sidekick, then the boss's wife last.

Everytime the bossman says something nice to me or tells me he's doing me a favor I have to toast him. During the course of the meal I am told to cover my mouth when I laugh because a woman's teeth should never show when she smiles. I cannot eat my soup the same way the men can, as I am a woman, I should eat less than the men, drink only a little (but all those toasts!). The bossman continually goes on about chinese women and food and his great company and business sense and how much I am going to learn from him. For instance, he teaches me how to say man, woman, girl, and boy in chinese, and when he quizzes me and I reply correctly he declares that he is a much better teacher than Miss Liu hahahahahahah. I am told that women do not have as many rights as men do in china hahahahahahahahah, not even foreign women hahahahaha. Bossman constantly makes slams at Mr. Cao's (a gentleman) wife. How she isn't as intelligent as boss's wife. He is "hen-pecked" the sidekick says.

Next we go to karaoke. It’s a place only for businessmen and when we get in the dark bar with christmas lights and mini-skirted waitresses the young sidekick whispers that this is his first time in a place like this. I say oh really, and he says yes, see the women's short skirts, and there are only businessmen here, I am really lucky to be able to come with you. So then the bossman gets up and sings his songs and it’s just so funny because he has become the epitome of greed and sloppiness to me, with very little knowledge about the world he thinks he rules. He is bellowing out songs at the top of his lungs, unable to even keep up with the words on the screen and just plain drunk.

This whole time I am wondering what my lines of being offended are, as so many of my reactions are determined by my education in the united states, they are really not innate. Though it has occurred to me that I might not be so safe in a room alone with him. His whole persona made a vivid picture of ancient chinese rulers, gluttons for power, it is so obviously cultural, as everyone else there is constantly applauding him and accepting and encouraging his behavior with a precision dictated by cultural laws as rigid as mine from the states, which are causing me to feel extremely odd.

Full realization of my disgust only set in at this karaoke bar. These sorts of realizations come all at once right, never slowly. I am trying to keep an open mind the whole time, since I am out of my league, and I genuinely try to understand people, not be offended by them. We are sitting there in the dark, all of us listening to bossman sing some military song and there are marching soldiers on the screen. The sidekick leans over and says very clearly in my ear – “I really want to thank you americans for dropping the atomic bomb on japan, we chinese really appreciate it.”

At this point I know that I just don't care how much is cultural, I am totally offended and disturbed. I have been to hiroshima, and it was no small swallow, and there is a reason japan now has no military. I don't give a shit about politics, I simply don't believe in blowing people and the planet up. And to be so daft as to think I would feel flattered (for this is definitely what he was thinking I would feel). The whole entourage struck me as a great stage set up to impress me, without thinking at all about what I might really think, as an american, as a woman, and as an individual. So really the evening was like seeing the emperor strut about in his new clothes (and learn that he is really not human but a pig!).

When you are an outsider you can see much more of a situation than the people acting in it, who don't know they are acting, they are just following the roles taught to them when they were small. This evening was really nothing more than a perfect acting out of a scene from china's history. It was obvious that it was much bigger than the actors because of the flawless execution of every single moment. Not once was there uncomfortableness, except when I didn't behave accordingly, but even this was swallowed up in the tradition of educating the ignorant foreigner. This precision is what is known as culture, and it is what fascinates me the most about being in other countries. To see everyone, simply everyone, behave according to these invisible laws which I do not know, but must scramble to quickly learn so that I can have a daily life, this is the reason why I love to travel. I love having to think very quickly about nearly everything. From what to say next (the hardest part) to when to give the person the money (every time I park my bike in a lot I have to ask them if I pay them then or when I leave, I can't figure out when which is appropriate), from what to eat, to finding the bathroom, and most importantly how to not offend people, and how to make friends. This last part, and I cannot say it enough, is the easiest part about being in china. People simply are very friendly, even these people at the dinner wanted me to have a good time, they just couldn't know that I wasn't willing to give up some of my american culture values.

The trouble with this particular cultural situation is that several of my inclinations for a business situation were inappropriate, and in ways which offended me. I will list them:

1. in the states: walk with confident posture into a job. China: as a woman, no no no. women are docile and there to serve, proper posture is rounded shoulders, speak little, look pretty

2. States: know that you have knowledge and experience to bring to the job and expect to be respected for your talents. China: boss is head of everything and he is the best at everything and always remind him that you are unworthy and lucky to be in his presence. I am not exaggerating, this is what everyone else was doing the whole evening

3. States: if a job is inappropriate for you, let them know and excuse yourself out the door. China: nope, for the businessman, business is the only and greatest aspiration and its unheard of to say you are not interested. to be in a room with him is a gift so by rejecting the job you reject him and that inspires wrath.

4. States: you can tell someone you think they are terrible and leave and feel a little satisfied that you at least spoke your mind. perhaps it’s a little short-tempered and not really a virtue, but it’s a recourse to take when you are offended. China: this brings me to my present situation. I cannot tell this man even politely that some of the things he has done are offensive to westerners, and particularly western women. I cannot tell him that I do not want the job because I don't need the money, least of all that I don’t need the money because his country has provided me with a fellowship to study their language and culture. I cannot tell him that I am not interested in business, or that I made a mistake in agreeing to work for him, without causing trouble for Mr. Cao and Liu Laoshi. For the bossman will be angry and feel rejected and will take it out on those for whom his relationship matters. ahhah, the present dilemma. How to get out of this job without getting others into trouble.

I have spoken with Liu Laoshi about it this morning, telling her that I called my parents to give them the news about a job and they were upset because they don't want me to work while in china and they are now sending me money. They are very concerned about my studies and want me to focus entirely on them. I thought with this excuse I was appealing to the only thing higher than power in china - filial piety, respect for parents wishes. However, she saw right through it, for several reasons. one, she is like me and I think she knows I do not like this man. two, she knows american students don't respect their parents’ wishes. three, she told me chinese always read behind things since nothing can be said directly, and to use parents was an excuse and he will know that I do not like the job or him.

We decided the only solution is to find another person to work for him. but none of the other americans ever work while they are here studying (now is when I curse my curiosity) and there aren't any british or austrailian students coming. so this is difficult.

So I will muster up all my self-control to be polite and smile with lips closed the whole time I tell him I am a blundering foreigner, and I really should have told him I would think about the job for a while and business isn't my business and I am looking for another foreigner to work for him.

So I hope everyone's jobs are a little better than this one, and I hope you are enjoying your cool weather (it's still crazy hot here). Classes start next week and I'm so excited, so much to do.

Lots of love and a warm sticky kiss on both cheeks, keely

Tuesday August 22, 2000 part 2

I made a drawing of mountains - lines and colors. As I made it I realized I am drawing my life line. I can put myself at whatever point I feel. There is an immense chasm at the focal point, it is my heartbreak obviously. And my break with my past as well. As I put the bright yellow on the flat beginning I thought - this is my childhood - and it became a halo around the horizon line. After the chasm - the future - there are multiple overlapping mountain silouettes. The different paths of my future.

This is how art works - pointing out through an uncontrolled subconscious symbolism that reveals itslef as you make decisions about color, line, placement. Certain subjects are more salient to various people at various points - hold a richer fuller orchestra of meaning - layers can be built and this is where magnificence can be articulated.

I hung two photos of buddhas from Luo Yang over the light switches - light and enlightenment. Humor feels really good.

Nearly everything hung in this room is landscape, landscapes of fabric, photographs, drawings. I know that I have felt deeply betrayed by people. I have left with great force, great urge, to tug away from the past, move forward. I can understand that my life will always be made of the same building blocks, that my rooms will always look alike because I chose the same aesthetics. But each time it's a little different, forgetting some things and adding new ones. Still, this red wash of material has always been with me.

Tomorrow I have a job interview and dinner with a company. something about english. 1000 yuan a month. It's a great salary for here - shit for the states, way below shit. about $2 an hour. I have to see what the hourly requirements are. Still, it's good, a job will be very nice, and good work experience. Won't have to feel so guilty about shopping. Whenever I meet other students here - Korean or Japanese - we end up talking about consumerism. I mean we talk about the lack of things to buy. or what we want to buy. its disgusting but boy is it reality. I really experience these desires.

Tuesday August 22, 2000

Not even three days and I set her free. This morning the rain was still falling and outside a bird sang. Sappho answered, and was hopping frantically about. I couldn't do it any longer and opened the window and then her cage and out she flew, right into the brush of the pine tree. So quick, a few seconds. It's much better this way.

I told the Chinese people who work here [the dorm] and we had a good laugh. They were surprised and told me I have a good heart. Somehow I think that this is the most chinese act I have done, the balance of humor, compassion.

Really it's simply my own symbolism. I wanted to see what the bird in myself would do. I had hoped it would sing, but instead it was just trapped.

The long rain has passed and suddenly its very clear out. I love the rains, feeling cozy.

Anais says she rules by seduction. If I ever rule at all its by honesty. We are so different. I try to always be honest about my feelings desires anger love joy pain. If I were not I would lose myself in my role. So I make sacrifices of what might be because I am obligated to be honest about who I am, what is happening inside me. Only when I am supremely and constantly secure can I tell a lie, and I must know through and through what the truth is. It's so dangerous to put insecurity's demands above honesty, what a trap to set oneself.

I think about someone coming here to find me. How difficult, to reach me, all these long journeys, cities, land, language. All surround me in my isolation from my past. protect me.

How quickly I am leaving everything, how much hurt me.

Monday August 21, 2000

I rode down to the east wall where the opera singing is. I went up on the wall and looked down on the city, a whole different world. No one up there. The pollution looks like mist and it's old and romantic and quiet. The only real space I've found outside to be alone. I walked for a while and pee'd in a corner - sort of a male thing I think. If they can do it anywhere, well, I'll do it when I can.

I looked over the edges and watched people, little girls in a dark alley singing games and playing songs. Men in warehouses, people in cars and on bikes, streaking through the gate below me. On the other side are the gardens, old pavilions. I saw a great big rat shuffle along the structures on the wall. Bright neon lights gave me my shadow on the stones. It was calm and absent, except for one man walking backwards out of the gray haze.

Sunday August 20, 2000

Ok, so a new phase in homesickness. I see american culture, really bad stuff like a terrible garage band video, or a jim carey outtake, and I feel sentimental. I hate this, not the fact of homesick or sentimental - I find it really amusing to be roused by these sorts of "home" things, but the way I experience the feeling of homesickness is this: I watch the clip, everything normal, familiar. It ends, and then I physically have this slightly uncomfortable pain/ache, which my immediate reaction is to suppress, I do not want to feel this, it is painful. Its a lot like being heartsick. But it's normal and to understand and realize it's homesickness relieves much of my uncomfortableness about the feeling.

Yesterday while I was making spagetti my Korean friend came in the kitchen and was also cooking. Juan Cun came in to say goodbye - he was going traveling. After he left we talked about what a good person he is. She said he was looking for a girlfriend - a good girlfriend. She asked if I had a boyfriend and I said no, and so of course the obvious was said, it was interesting. When someone else puts the idea in your head its very different.

So I'll think about it more seriously. The trouble is that I sense with him that I can't pursue. With most men its this way. Women can't chose their men and then get them the same way, most men don't take to it. But I need a man with great confidence who just enters me, quick and with passion. If they are too shy or too insecure I'm not interested.

**

My options for the evening: To go to the opera and watch singing. To take a walk on the wall. To smoke a little and walk around the gardens of the campus. Oh how nice to enjoy the serenity of walking in the dark, all lit up inside. Or just sit and enjoy my music, my candles, my little bird! Oh my new little bird, I have named her Sappho, I know it's romantic, but a songbird in China? come on, allow me the pleasure...

Still she is so nervous, unhappy all by herself in this room. I ought to buy another I suppose. Can they go in the same cage I wonder? Oh I just don't know... but she wants out and if she doesn't relax soon I won't be able to keep her locked up.

To be good at any art do it a lot and have an interesting life.

Saturday August 19, 2000

Today I woke up not knowing where I was. Very very interesting. Intense dreams of being home, at high school graduation and seeing J, holding her hand, her being distant and I loving her tremendously. Seeing lots of people and saying hello, D lying with her head on the ground. Happiness that I was leaving, graduating, though I still wanted J, she was so far away in her own life. Said she didn't dance anymore.

I woke looking out the hazy window hearing a basketball game and asking, "where am I again? Oh yeah, China" and went back to sleep.

**

Ute called from Kane's, on her way to Guilin. I immediately said I was leaving to meet her. Simply can't resist that kind of laughter, it's so good, healthy, she's the one who's made my stomach hurt from so much laughter. So she told me of her adventures, all the wonderful people she's met, the mountains she's climbed, the scenes. She's such a character, so loud, a roaring scream in China, how can it be?

I think of all the people who are ex-pats here, how interesting they are, their varied approaches. Patrick with his absorbtion of taoism, the east's version of punk. Ute with her full comprehension of China, the people and society and still being a westerner, laughing all the while at what they expect her to agree to, to believe and participate in, her wild revolts against quietism, harmony, and communal living. And what fun she is! I adore her, though her life is troubled - she kicks it all up again and again, what spirit!

And me, who am I to become in the face of China, how will I absorb offer reject rebel love be loved by China? we all do it in our own ways. I only want to be so much! Huge enough to feel all this. My soul is leaping here, stretching and becoming limber. and the exhilaration of feeling new sensations between all the old muscles of spirit, this is what I keep feeling overwhelmed with.

And the ups and downs, this morning and this evening, I wouldn't and couldn't change any of this, the wild pleasure and hedonism I feel here, all my senses engaged, touched, turned on and I feel electric and only want to find new ways to feel more. To pacify myself so that all currents are open, all my channels transferring the waves, my body is shook.

The vast understanding that none of this could happen at home, that I must have years ahead of me, to do more and more, to live at the end of the silk road, study. I want to stay away from home after this year, but not in Xian, no I must go west, more and more.

Friday August 18, 2000

Today Zhang Laoshi brought me my green card, I now have an official little green book with my sick picture in it and so I'm legit and legal. Yeah!

Also this morning the Korean student who was making so many digs about my buying things came to my room and we talked. She is having money problems, though if she went home her family will give her money. I guess I'm not too clear about how much trouble money is for her. I think she'll be ok and be able to study here next semester. I was trying to think of ways for her to get some money, a job or a grant or something, for after school.

Last night I slept without waking, no mosquitos, its amazing. A first I believe. And the rain fell all night, so comforting and cool. There's a salamander somewhere in my room, I saw it first last night.

I've got my lipton tea with powdered milk, my Joni [Mitchell], my tank top and myself. She makes me swallow hard for home, for all that I don't know it means. I don't know why this album means so much anymore, the memories aren't what I miss, perhaps its just the past, all far away now. I'm glad to have fondness for those days in our dorm room, for singing, for snow, for a. was I unhappy? I don't remember, that's good. I think I was happy then, well-loved. And farther back, to m, driving in her car, smoking and driving and listening and talking. dark night rushing through the bright beams of headlights, rushing through rural suburbs.

Yesterday I taught Liu Laoshi the word "passion", she didn't know it, and such an important one!

We are all here, from Japan, Korea, States, all experiencing the uniqueness of being in China, a strange kind of love. I often ask those who live here if the like China. There is always a pause, not quite a liking in that sense of the word, it's so dirty, that always comes out, but there is something special, something about China that keeps people here, keeps them and me stimulated, enthralled.

Thursday August 17, 2000

Once again, nothing is easy in China except making friends, this time with other foreigners. I went to the Gong An [police] with another Korean new student, and so many difficulties along the way. I forgot my pictures and so we had to get off the bus and go back. Then we took a taxi and along the way discovered a plant, bird, fish and cat market. I shall have to return, it looked so beautiful. Buy some plants. Perhaps a fish too. How I'd like a pet! I wonder if I could have a bird here, it'd be so nice.

Anyway, all these troubles because I forgot my health form and so now its late. I've broken the Chinese law as they explained it to me. I decided to look upset to see if pity would smooth things along, also not to irritate them and have them actually go through with the procedures to have my visa made invalid. Not too much reaction. I know that everything will be ok because I am a student, of course I am not doing anything wrong. Still I have managed to come across some very bad luck so far, here in China. At least I didn't try and register with the police in Tianjin, that would have been terrible, causing a great many troubles.

Now I know a bit why people in China have so much patience, because everyone has to put up with the bureaucracy. Once we left the building I had to remind myself not to let it get me down because it really would be ok, to shake off my acting. So we rode the bus home and had a wonderful conversation about China and other various things, avidly watched by the Chinese [because we were probably speaking in Chinese, the other Korean students didn't speak English]. So crowded, it was unbelievable!

Tuesday August 15, 2000

I've been sick in bed all day, in bed and on the toilet. All my confidence about my digestive track has been thrown down the bowl. I've never felt so ill in my lower stomach in my life. Total cramps and battle with the bacteria. Only when I slept did it cede. Now its after 7pm, I'm weakly sitting on my stool waiting for noodles to soften in hot water. Juan Cun has helped me, getting me food from the store and water. Its really good to have someone around, who you can ask favors of.

My head hurts, as I haven't eaten anything but a peanut butter sandwich today. Uggh, I feel so weak, and very little trust in the food available to me. By far, Chinese food is the most difficult aspect of living here. I'm ready to go to the Hyatt to see what they have on the menu.

Saturday August 12, 2000 part 2

Tonite I went to see Shaanxi province opera, under a tent just inside the east gate. Jian Cun went with me, we rode our bikes along the wall, stopping at the various places, dancing outside to semi-pop, semi-traditional muic. But I knew he wouldn't dance, so we kept going. Finally we heard a woman's voice and parked our bikes, got some beers and found chair frames with striped cloth strung between the frames. beach chair comfort as I slung into mine and drank under that tent, full of comfort and awe, pleased to have a guest with me.

I know that foreigners frequently hear this traditional music and equate it with high pitched screaming, but I love it, immediately. Its different, and in it I sense the history, the long trekk through provincial town and lives. If you listen, fall into it you recognize its sensibilities, the richness of storytelling, communication. It is unlike the US, because its so old, unlike the West because it is so different, spawn and grown without our influence. Like a personality in isolation, allowed to mature with its own integrity. China now is so full of competition, of awareness beyond itself, what it should be, might have been, once was. It races to "catch up" and so it loses its integrity, its strength in itself, different from others. But how can it but bow to the west, with all its promises of security, stability.

And so I sat and listened and cleared my heart, humble with the awareness that I had found a piece of real china. no money, no fees, just singing because they love it, drinking tea and beer, the children jumping on the trampoline beside the stage, peeking through holes in the wall, pulling aside mauve velvet to watch the ladies in the lights. It's dark in the tent, eyes must fall on the bright informal stage, so comfortable to the singers. I felt my heart open fully, relax, love China. There is no underground, but there is history.

The casualness, comfortableness, one knows that it is their space, their stage, their low tables and slung back chairs in the dark. And I was grateful to find, to enjoy such a place.

It is at night that I find comfort in this summer heat, riding my bicycle, weaving through cars like a string bean amongst threads, slipping past the glances at the foreigner. It's at night that the dirt settles, unstirred by the blaze of sun, lack of rain. The wall is lit up in gaudiness, kitsch, and I don't mind. It's as if I never went to university, never learned to detest all that advertising touches. I can believe, enjoy, be human, not just a brain.

And how to explain, to touch that feeling of goodness, satisfaction, love and participation no matter what my outsiderness, as if washed over me again and again. Tonite was me in all my new glory, my new joy of living. Because the life I see isn't mine, not my pain, struggle, distraction. For me all this means tremendously different things and when encountering such fact, such reality, it's like first seeing a giraffe when never having seen a picture even. Perhaps a description, maybe a sketch. You behold all the magnificence of what actually is. What might have been your life, your relief, your evenings, your history, family, dreams. But wasn't. Its poetry because it's without attachments. It's waking up, aware. To be given eyes and then sent out to explore. When you are born you are given eyes but no memory, you become aware to all that you see, but once you leave home you can begin to be amazed at all the space you have to give to the newness, for it cannot be categorized yet.

I thought I was jaded, I am, by much of what travel, what China, India, Egypt used to be. But fuck myself because there is so much out there! It still blows my mind, my small profound lucky existence. There is a China which exists, which has enough existence to make me reevaluate all my pre-conceptions, structures, matrixes. The world is so much bigger than our minds, that's the glory of it. I intend to keep my interest intrigued. I cannot let it go, cannot accept mundane. I suffer under too much contemplation, it's best to simply be awed, be humbled, to fall in love because suddenly there are new promises filled, to be surprised with. This is where god lies for me. Let them tell me god is in the mundane and I'll agree as long as it isn't my mundane, my familiarity. Ritual is another matter. My rituals belong to me, they are my temples, my security, my holiness. But they don't come easily, tainted and robbed as I have been by advertising, exploited and tempted. Yet it's only a drive for my creativity, a stimulation to constantly seek out love, seek sources of love, sources to love, to abandon myself to, to believe in, to believe and know that I am smaller, that I belong, am a part of that tide of goodness and pain called your life.

Saturday August 12, 2000

More articulations of what and who I want to be, refining myself. I want to learn to listen to others. to be more patient. to be quicker.

Right now I think I feel impelled to expose myself to others, to have them know me. Its self-absorbed, insecure, so I want to let it fall away. At least for a while, for a trial.

I want to be able to shut off my analysis, my thinking while others are around, so I can better receive information, to better understand.

I hear feet shuffling by in the hallway outside. the american in me wishes they would pick their feet up. shuffle as passive aggression, lack of determination, slackness. my other cultural self (?) loves the slowness, the somnomalence, the rejection of rushing. but still i think the american wins out in my actions. sometimes.

In order to fully realize this goal of quieting myself I ought to do some neurolinguistics on myself, and also practice. Mom wrote to remind me to take a deep breath and center myself when entering a new situation. In this way I will notice the details more, be more prepared to receive information. all this is so like meditation.

Last night I watched a chinese film, "Beautiful Mother". I was struck first because to see China on film, to know that the movie was real life here, was startling. I had seen movies in the States of China, but now it is what I see everyday. And Gong Li is the beautiful mother, and exemplifies Chinese values. selflessness, dedication to your children, extraordinarily hard-working all the time, asking favors of others by giving favors first - then leaving it up to them to repay. Her son is deaf, he needs a new hearing aid because his broke and she can't afford a new one. She is eternally strong.

**

Just got back from the coffee shop, listening to Elliot Smith. riding my bicycle down the streets still continues to be the most relaxing interesting thing to do.

Tonite is Mah Jong, I am actually hoping that it doesn't happen so that I can go check out the parks. At night I think there are some kind of plays or something.

I bought a mop today, so that I don't have to face the ultimate dirt of my floor. And some bleach. I feel so much better. As I was walking home I felt so self-conscious. Already people look at me, and the idea of a white girl with a mop, oh its so silly and I of course overcame it. But as I was coming in I saw a girl from Korea and stopped to talk to her. She was quite rude, saying "You buy a lot of things." I felt criticized, though I'm not sure if its just cultural - cultural in that I buy a lot of things or cultural in speaking about such things and there's no chastisement meant. This is what I mean about dealing with insecurities. I mean, its not such a big deal, but it annoys me. I tried to think of what she's seen me buy, some toilet paper and such. and a mop! At least it only those things and not the VCD player, clothes and books. I am quite glad that my green bag holds so many things so that people don't blatantly see my consumption. but I consume just as much in the States. here its cheaper, but I've given myself a budget so we'll see how it works.

I've been getting pictures developed, it feels great. If I can buy some paper then I can print, as the photo man offered his studio to me. How wonderful of him!

J.O. wrote me today, how magnificent to hear from her. It's good to keep in touch with someone from semester-at-sea, and she's such a spectacular one, how I love her. A is still my shining star, I'm quite in love with her. Oh to see her in February, it will be joyous. Perhaps I will leave from Hong Kong, or maybe not. I think of a year here, its so short. As soon as my language gets better perhaps I can start on some research. But who to fund me? That's a bit difficult. If I teach english maybe I'll have time and money enough...

All this is opening up to me, I love the freedom and opportunity. I must not waste my time feeling bad for senseless, guilty reasons. I have no reason not to love life, feel full and stimulated. And this is what I love best, the stimulation, the provocation.

mmm peanut butter and mushy white bread. home. I think of my things all boxed up at home, CDs clothes books. They are comfort, security. Why does consumption, things, my beautiful objects, why do they satisfy me so? Because they are not people, not fickle, don't run away from me? Are they art objects, all ready-mades and when I pick them out I am creating? Such an easy answer. DuChamp wouldn't approve.

Friday August 11, 2000

I awake all discontent. I read anais nin, for she is clear and focused in her diary and this is what I want. This kind of influence. I wake thinking of m, how much I've given myself to him. It's difficult to imagine being apart, but I can feel my soul expanding. It's as though I've been clutching at some iron bars and I have to tear my fingers away so that I can move outward, expand.

Today I went to the market, wrote some emails. d and j. wrote myself and j a pep talk, I was needing it and he usually does too. it made me feel better. I know I am happy here - no, that I belong here, that my life feels strong and right here. I will learn the language more and more, my world is expanding and europe will seem like a dream, the west, where things are easy. for the language and culture I will do much. I want to find out the good chinese music, the good movies, books. I need to understand more, memorize more words. its difficult to make myself work here, memorize. I expect it to sink in, more or less. some words stick. more need to.

Today Liu Laoshi came to teach me some things about pronunciation. It was good and I needed it, I've practiced a lot today. Soon I will go to Kane's, to eat dinner and talk. Get my bicycle and ride home. I have my new VCD player which is a relief, movies to watch. Chinese ones too.

I can hear girls screaming. I want a good international crowd. the best of different countries. I already sense within the Japanese crowd that I am simply an outsider, pushed away by culture. They are very friendly and polite, but I am not altogether certain about making close friends. ahhh nervousness. is this insecurity? just knowing that I seek deep friendships, the leaps that this can require.

Wednesday August 9, 2000

Today I went to the hospital to do my health form. Profound sadness. It was safe for me but for the doctors inexcusably not. When I was waiting to get my blood taken I wanted to cry, I'm not entirely sure why. So little value for them I think, for the doctors, for life. For the looming differences between lives here and the States, between valued spaces. hospitals.

I took my 3 rolls of film to be developed, in the hopes that it will stimulate me to take pictures.
I look at the photos of my family and I'm amazed, they look so healthy, all smiling and tan, the trees so green. It was mother's day.

When I return to the hospital I want to take pictures. I am so uncomfortable with [photographing] here, as though I am exposing them, their life, to all that I have seen in my mind.

I went out and had some drinks with the Japanese boy across the hall. We talked about kitsch. I am so desirous of a boy, of distraction. They are all attractive, but I am a woman and so I must wait. If I act, if I pursue they run away. It's the same as sixth grade. I'm supposed to cultivate my patience. Make them feel like men, strong around me. But its not possible. I haven't the patience to wait for a man strong enough for me. I think I have no choice. Maybe someone will come who is as desirous.

tuesday august 8, 2000

Today the clouds slipped away and in the wake of a week of rain the air was fresh, the sky blue, and for a few hours the sunlight cut through green trees washed of their topmost layers of grime. In their search for sun, during the night using up carbon monoxide, they are clogged, dense, heavy and olive with pollution, as we all are here in this dirty city. I walk through the mucky streets, careful but not too careful, natural, avoiding the puddles, and then the heel of my green shoes flips up and I close my eyes momentarily to feel the sludge up my calf and slurp beneath my bare foot. I never falter a step.

I have made this journal in honor of my bright day, bright future. Out of dedication to myself. I took out my photographs today, after talking with m, knowing that I can forgive him somehow. I hang no pictures of people except my family. but my landscapes are here. the panoramas and moody film stills.

There is even a sunset, but as there's no one to go see it with I don't mind sitting here.

I've got a poor excuse for hot chocolate, but Bowie's on and I'm naked and freshly washed so there's very little to complain about. Oh, and Oreos to turn my mouth black and rot my teeth. mm, the memories of home.

I wonder at my self-absorbtion. still, I have time for it and when else am I to have all this free time for contemplation of myself and my life? school will start in 3 weeks, and hopefully I'll be able to travel. though a daily life has settled itself. A little study of chinese, read english books, dip myself in anais [nin], write write write.

My clothes are hung in the closet and I feel as though fabric is comforting to me. Isn't it the curtains which made me stay? The most cozy my room has felt is when I had laundry strung around the room. the largest wall is still bare except for two small paintings of bamboo near the pillow.

today I came home and looked out the window. I had dumped the cactus on the ledge with the air conditioner because it was rotting. I saw a long bright green line that I felt wasn't the cactus. At first I thought it was a slug but then I realized it was a snake! I hopped up on the ledge to watch, it slid around the dirt, about a foot long. it sensed me and slithered under the air conditioner. I wanted to touch it, as I'm quite sure it was harmless, but nonetheless. snakes have different symbolism here I think. Unlike the West's evil, christian associations. I believe snakes are wise. I'll have to check.

I've just realized that I'll make my next journal, buy the paper and whatnot and sew it together. how simple. I'm loving this one though. It's like when we went out for the Xian specialty of bread and broth and lamb. We had to tear the bread to pieces, little bits. It must have taken 40 minutes! then they dump the broth over the bread and its really tasty. the chinese boy who took us said it tasted so good because we made it ourselves. he's very right! the dining hall version just wasn't the same.

so I've really finished the other journal, it seems strange. I'm glad because it has many wounds in it. from home. but I am clear. I live for breakfast in the morning. mm good.

Kane calls me, 12:30 at night, drunk. he misses me. I am watching snow white in english. its a good version, haunting and not sweet. I imagine someone dark, hair, eyes. I wait.