And At the Sound of the Bell *Beep* Turn the Page, Please

There's been a whack of days that has brought more dense cloud cover, with all its humidity, and downpour to the region of late. The flora love it and so do I. Well, maybe not the humidity, but the monsoons, I love. It washes the filthy land that the lovely ayis (a really nice way of addressing the nice Chinese women who clean up the crap you may or may not have contributed to) try to keep tidy. They put things back to where they should go.

I'm doing the right thing.
I'm doing the right thing.
I'm doing the right thing.
(right?)

Brute force threats of torrential rain turn my bra straps into Vulcan-like death grips. Godspeed You! Black Emperor pounds my amygdala. The alternative is rapid-fire Chinese in sharp, staccato, crescendo forte bursts. It is always the signal that a meeting among Chinese teachers is 2 minutes to close. Gosh, I'll miss those.

School's out for summah!
School's out for evah!

This year's curtain call leaves me with a mixture of gladness, sadness, excitement, and a bit of irritable bowel. A full stop was placed at the end of my tenure of my first and only job I've had abroad here in China. Specifically Suzhou.

Home of the canals. Aortic canals, the breeding grounds of the world's stealthiest (!) mosquito. But they bring about the most dazzling displays of dragonflies, one insect that I'd like to be if I could choose the next biosuit. Suzhou, a place whose dialect first sounded more Kling-on-mid-fight-scene than Earthbound. Suzhou, a place that when I'd first arrived had seemed soulless, mean-spirited, void of any culture, and peppered with people that were mostly concerned with the accumulation of generally useless but really shiny stuff.

One of the reasons I moved to this country was to find my place in the world, because the place I'd called home my entire life stopped feeling particularly homey. Communities were dissolving into single family unit insularity. Self-reliance, the new cooperative. The magical street that I grew up on, where all kids were allowed to freely play or roam into any neighbour's house to raid refrigerators for spoonfuls of leftover spaghetti sauce (yum!), or freezers to split a popsickle with a best friend, can now be carbon dated. Invitations, once only sent out for events that required requisite pretty party shoes, were now needed for "play dates". They do that here among some rich, white people, but more often than not kids just roam free, exploring their neighbourhoods.

I also came to this new country in hopes to find my people.

I was explaining to a 4 year old the other day that nearly everything about her was in a state of growth; her arms, her legs, her fingers, her nose, her heart. But the one thing that wouldn't grow any bigger was her eyes. And even though she'd grow up to see things beautiful, disgusting, and all things in between, her eyes would stay the same size, even when she got as big as me.

For the most part, my "people" are 3-6 year olds. To this set, there is nothing but wide eyed acceptance of any scheme, nutty or otherwise. Everything except vegetables sounds great. And their self-esteem is so malleable at this stage that you can override a bad installed program and swap it with one that's Sky's the Limit, Baby™.

I'm still marvelling at how one job was at once the easiest, yet hardest, most fulfilling, often thankless, whirlwind love affair this person has ever experienced. I remember once worrying about the sudden torrents of tears, sweat, pee, snot and blood that I would suddenly be covered in. Mom is an obsessive-compulsive hand washer, so some things rub off. I eventually developed an immunity to the kaleidoscope of DNA that was produced by the collection of creatures who either fell, or found that the hardest thing in the whole world was to share, or say sorry, or to give a hug after they had personally caused another pain. Anyone who knows me knows I'm not a greatest fan of repetition, but there is one thing I never get tired of: explaining the merits of fair play and the absolute valour involved in great friendship.

There was the gaining of a new posse of righteous chicks to run with. A gang of beautiful, interesting, occasionally troubled, but luckily questioningly introspective, girls. Maybe I was the only one, but I marvelled at how fast it was to fall in love with them. Just like with children. Being around the right women feels like being towel dried/hugged by your Mom. And when we're being honest with ourselves and each other, true epiphanies get eked out.

For most of my life, against whatever odds, I've searched for that person who I could be with forever and ever, 'til death did us in. But experience and too many National Geographic videos in succession proved otherwise. Love was simply the vehicle for furthering the species.

Sure there were the rare examples of absolute faith and fidelity. But magic is often the first thing that gets pummelled out of you. Santa's got a B&E record that spans the globe; the Tooth Fairy, who has painstakingly built her fortress, moat and all, entirely of tiny, enameled pearls, finally gets done in by a scourge of gingivitis and a planted crack pipe. They are legion. But it's the one where the girl lives happily ever after with her prince which had largely dominated the imagination of this one for the longest period of time.

And though the arms and legs and other bits grew magnificently well,
Sometimes the only thing the eyes grow are dim.
And sometimes the light goes completely out.

But nothing lasts forever
(admittedly a nihilistic sounding phrase).
Rather, nothing remains the same,
Gratefully.
If you're really lucky, there are those that come around that shake hope back into you.

And I'm a lucky girl.

In truth, I sort of implicitly asked for that gorgeous monkey and exactly the circumstances that we find ourselves in.

At my farewell party, my other boss, Qian Bing sat next to me. Well, he actually had little choice as my hand kept patting the seat next to mine, calling him over like a chihuahua. We were talking about when we first met. It was during my job interview.

Me: You didn't like me.
Qian Bing: That's not true.
Me: Yan told me!
Qian Bing: I'd just never met anyone like you before, so I didn't know where to put you. We couldn't understand all the goodness that you possess. To the Chinese, it takes time to understand natures and personalities. There was nothing that was ever wrong with you; you've got a killer personality. It was us who needed to adapt.

Jeez.

And then he said, "Enjoy your adventure. If you're having a great time, please don't forget about us. But if you're not having a great time, please come home. We will always be here with open arms."

Sob.

I'm leaving home
Again.

Ah, it will work out.

I'm moving to Chengdu, Sichaun (Szechwan), People's Republic of freakin' China, where I will be studying Chinese at a university; I will buy a guitar (or ukulele, I can find one); learn how to play the former, or keep practising the latter; and I'd like to work with some of the children that were affected by the monstrous earthquake that hit the region in May 2008.

Though I find myself so incredibly attached to this place that I had once dismissed as soulless, mean-spirited, void of any culture, and peppered with people that were only concerned with the accumulation of mostly useless but shiny stuff. It's not that way, largely. I didn't understand them yet. I just needed time to get to know them.

I just needed to adapt.

Grateful to be here.