Lugete, O Veneres Cupidinesque, et quantum est hominum venustiorum: passer mortuus est meae puellae, passer, deliciae meae puellae, quem plus illa oculis suis amabat. nam mellitus erat suamque norat ipsam tam bene quam puella matrem, nec sese a gremio illius movebat, sed circumsiliens modo huc modo illuc ad solam dominam usque pipiabat. qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum illuc, unde negant redire quemquam. at vobis male sit, malae tenebrae Orci, quae omnia bella devoratis: tam bellum mihi passerem abstulistis o factum male! o miselle passer! tua nunc opera meae puellae flendo turgiduli rubent ocelli.
lessons
On Histories and Family
I recently stumbled upon this video of my grandparents’ 80th birthday celebration from May 2009. At the time, I was based in Beijing on my Fulbright, and my parents were visiting China from the U.S. to visit my mother’s side of the family in Nanjing. We had an elaborate dinner at a nice hotel by 玄武湖，Xuanwu Lake, several blocks from my grandparent’s home on 中央路, Zhongyang Lu, one of the main thoroughfares of the (now rapidly expanding and increasingly unfamiliar) city. It was the second time in my lifetime my entire mom’s side of the family had congregated under one roof. The atmosphere was festive: it was loud; there was storytelling and laughter; there was an overabundance of food, drink, and cake (most of which had to be taken home, as pictured below). The dinner also featured the typical birthday customs for celebrating longevity and honoring elders: long life noodles, peaches, and a gold thread hand-embroidered character for “longevity,” 寿 (shòu). It was the classic Chinese dinner party. While the birthday celebration brought everyone physically together, and despite having visited Nanjing numerous times over the years, I had never felt close to my China-based family. Tried as I might, I
A Rocky Departure
Yes, that’s right, after saying so time and time again, I have finally left Beijing. My last day in China, Saturday, September 4, was fraught with goodbyes-that-aren’t-really-goodbyes (we all hate finality), frustrations and sadness. In the morning, my friends came over and cleared out my electronics, blankets, sheets, cookware, silverware, dishes, spices, bicycles—anything that wasn’t going in my suitcase. In the afternoon, I cleaned out my Chinese bank account, exchanged everything to USD, and closed the account. Then came the challenges. Challenge #1: Getting my rent deposit back from the landlady Ah, the landlady, someone who is defined by her difficulty to understand and communicate with her tenants. Originally I was going to get my deposit back on Friday, but then she took it back. “What if I give you the money back, and by the time you leave Sunday, the apartment will be broken in half?” I reassured her that if I had lived in the apartment for 9 months without burning the place down, she could trust that I wouldn’t do it in the next 48 hours. Despite my efforts, she refused, citing that upon returning the deposit, I must return the keys and find somewhere else to
Chinese Lessons
If there’s anything I’ve learned in my time here, it’s to get everything down in writing. Whenever I retell the rather inane details of my day to a Chinese friend, followed with “So he promised he would…” The Chinese friend immediately fires back, “You got that down on paper, right?” Usually, I would respond with something about how I could trust the person, that their word is good enough, et cetera. And usually, it was true. However, this last event has changed the way I look at promises made by Chinese people forever. While searching for a new apartment, I stumbled upon a little 50sqm gem right between 东四十条 Dongsishitiao and 东直门 Dongzhimen. I asked the agent whether there was a couch and other furniture included, and he replied, “Yes, of course.” The next day I went in to sign the contract, and asked the landlady when she could move a couch in. She responded, aghast, “I never said there would be a couch!” “But the agent told me that you would provide one? Where am I going to sit?” The bickering continues for several minutes. To which the agent interjects and says, “I will buy you a couch, okay?”
A Failed Outlook
I really don’t know where some of my ideas come from. For example, in order to keep from growing a resistance to medicine’s effectiveness and subjecting my body to unnatural chemicals, I have adopted the take-if-you-really-need-it approach to medicine. It’s as if my taking a few days or weeks of medicine will change human DNA for generations to come. But seriously, it’s not a bad idea, right? But recently, I have found that bad things (be it sickness, bruises, or men) don’t go away by themselves. I thought I could trust my body or time to heal blemishes and wounds, but I was wrong. I. Sickness Last winter in Harbin, I made my third trip to one hospital (fourth trip overall) after the doctor made me take a CAT scan and a breathing test. I was suffering from breathing problems. She told me that I needed to spend at least one week living in the hospital to get medicine administered via IV for my sickness. Excuse me, what? Are you just trying to milk me for my money? I refused to pay exuberant amounts of money for something that can be solved without needles. Upon arriving in Beijing, I saw
9/11
There is a lot an American can say when they hear “9/11.” I could write for ages about it, but today is a day to remember. It’s difficult for me to relive–let alone imagine–what I did on September 11. I just remember sitting in French class watching the television, not fully aware of the implications this momentous event would have on American diplomacy and mindsets of people around the world. When 9/11 movies started to come out, I always thought, “It’s too soon. It’s too soon.” But it’s been five years, and I still think it happened yesterday. “September 11.” This government buzzword has been used so much that it on any other day but September 11, the word can become meaningless. But at the same time, it has also been misused greatly by the government to incite feelings of injustice and contempt (Pavlov’s dog, anyone?); another reason to keep fighting, every day, even if we no longer know what we’re fighting for. When I took time to really remember what “September 11″ means, I still cannot believe what happened, much less believe what ensued and continues to this day. I now understand how some people can become numb to