A Wonderfully Lazy Week....

It has been a calm, restful week. I have not had any obligations so I could mostly do whatever I wanted. That meant I slept in every morning. What a luxury! I also could read my scriptures for an hour. Another luxury! Plus, I could work on my lesson plans for my writing classes and also think about how to tie those ideas into my Oral English classes. My goal is to be better prepared so that on Saturday afternoon I am not frantically trying to figure out what I am going to be teaching on Monday morning. Hopefully, this will lower my stress level. Finally, I worked on my counted cross-stitch picture. This is my reward for doing the other things. I do not have good lighting in my apartment (not a priority for the university), so I try to do it during the afternoon when I have the sunlight streaming in through my bedroom window. It is warm and bright and I can just sew away to my heart’s content. I am also reading a little-known book by Charlotte Bronte called Shirley. I am enjoying it very much.

It has not been too cold this week, so I would bundle up and venture out each day for a short walk. My university is right next to another university so I walk down Shada Lu (lu means road) and walk about a mile to the end of the road and back. My campus is deserted but the other campus has lots of people walking around it. Also, there is a store that that sells fruits and vegetables. I stop there every few days to replenish my supply. One good thing about my diet in China is that I eat plenty of fruits. I do not eat as many vegetables, mostly because I do not know which ones to buy. I have never seen many of the vegetables they sell in the shops so I stick with potatoes, carrots, onions, peppers, and cucumbers. I also shy away from their variety of meats. I do not know what most of them are, and I am not adventurous enough to try them. I eat chicken, pork, and beef (when I can get it). I would hate to be chewing on squid or pig’s tongue and not know it. Chinese food is good, but my stomach is partial to what it had eaten for years. I have learned not to mess with my stomach’s needs and wants. Both of us are happier that way.

I have been shopping a few times this week because that is the local pastime.  I am shopping for fruit and lotion, and other essentials. Everyone else is shopping for the Chinese New Year, which starts the night of February 2^nd. All of the stores are packed with people. The carts are full of food—meat, rice, vegetables, gallons of soy sauce, and several bottles of alcoholic beverages. The carts are also full of decorated boxes of cakes and goodies. Sound familiar? Yep! This is their “Christmas”. They buy presents for everyone and celebrate for 15 days. Imagine December 24^th at Costco and then times it by one million. I will try to stay away from the stores for the next week, so that I will not be crushed by the masses of humanity. In addition to that, several of the smaller shops are or will be closing down for the next week or two. I am excited to see what the Spring Festival is like. I understand the fireworks on the night of the 2^nd are spectacular. I will let you know. Plus, they have hung lanterns on all the main streets and will light them during the festival. This is also called the Lantern Festival.

I had an interesting experience this week with a little old Chinese man. I had taken my water bottle to the cafeteria to get another bottle and forgot to take my key with me. I did not realize it until the young man had picked up the bottle (very heavy) and was carrying it back to my apartment. I took a detour and walked over to the place where we pick up clean sheets because they usually have an extra key there. When I asked the girl to come and let me into my apartment, she took off running in another direction. I was getting a little frustrated when a little old man came up to me and asked me if I knew a Mr. Wang. Most of the teachers are on holiday, so I told him that I did not know where Mr. Wang was. I am not even sure who Mr. Wang is. There must be 5 million Mr. Wangs in Xi’an alone. Anyway, he was a darling little man, and he asked me if I would read something for him and see if the English was correct. I told him I would help him as soon as I got into my apartment. I still had no key, but I walked over to my apartment with the boy carrying the water bottle and the little Chinese man following him. I buzzed the door and Ruth Ann let me into the building. I motioned for the boy to put the water down on the step and asked him to please go get the master key. The man told him in Chinese and he took off.

Meanwhile, the little old man started pulling a folder out of his torn nylon bag. He handed me some papers neatly written in English. This was the story that emerged from his pages: He had been a university professor at one of the local campuses, and his wife had been a librarian. He taught Russian (impressive!) and also spoke English, although he told me his English was poor. I told him that I thought it was very good. He was born in 1931, so he was now 80 and his wife was probably close to that age as well. They have two daughters, both living abroad, one in Montreal and one in Washington, D.C. The papers were an application for visas so he and his wife could travel to Montreal for six months and visit his daughter and her family and teach her children some Chinese and a little about the Chinese culture. He explained in the letters that because of the busy train schedule during Spring Festival, he could not travel to Beijing personally and requested that they grant the visas by mail. He had a few certified letters stating that he had a retirement pension and a home to come back to.

His papers were well written with no errors that I could see, and I handed them back to him. I asked him if he thought the officials would give him the visas. He shrugged his shoulders and told me that 70 percent of the people are turned down. Many people cry when they get the rejection. He mentioned in a matter-of- fact tone that this may be the last time he would be able to go. He put his papers back into the folder and got ready to leave. I wished him well. He asked me my name a couple of times but he could not remember Karen, although he sure tried hard. I looked into his sweet wrinkled face with about half of his teeth missing and the thought came to me that he was a child of God and very precious in His sight. My heart was deeply touched. I was so glad that I had locked myself out of my apartment, so that I could talk to such a humble man. As he walked away, the young boy came with the key to apartment and I got my water. But I has gotten much more than that from this chance encounter. That little old man gave me something to think about for a long time.