William Tate

An anthology of moments from my travels. True, unfiltered, and raw experiences.

Moments Gone

South Korea, August 30, 11:45AM

I have just ordered an iced coffee. I look around the cafe and realize I am the only customer. Taking advantage of this, I sit by an open window. The cafe is on the third floor of a building seated at the edge of a quiet beach. It is low tide. The blue of the sky, the blue of the mountains on the horizon, and the blue of the ocean all say something different. The breeze lifted off of the water fills the window and presses against my skin. It is the perfect temperature. I smile. Soon my iced coffee is delivered to me by an elderly gentleman, presumably the owner of the cafe. He walks back behind the counter and begins reading a book. I lean back in my chair and take a sip of the coffee. It is sweet and smooth. I finish it quickly and begin to wonder why I cannot savor the small pleasures that permeate my life. Suddenly I become very aware of the urgency of the time fleeting underneath my chair as I sit back in a cafe by the beach in Korea. I start to speculate, perhaps I am afraid of losing the things that bring me joy if I do not take advantage of them right away. I take a deep breath and the sea breeze fills my lungs with peace. I exhale. Isomorphic to my existence, my time in Korea is severely limited. I am now aware of a subtle anxiety sitting in my chest and my jaw. What if I am not taking full advantage of the 2,160 minutes that I am allowed to tour this country? The coffee-painted ice in my empty glass begins to melt. Each drop of unfrozen water a grain of sand in an hourglass. The hourglass. I take another deep breath and the sea breeze fills my lungs with the salt of the ocean. Another moment gone.

Grim Reaper

China, September 26, 1:50AM

I got frustrated and went for a walk near the highway. It was freezing cold and pouring down rain. And in the middle of this busy highway, there he was. In between lanes, his silhouette being outlined by car headlights. The robe, the scythe, everything. I was shivering before but it literally sent chills down my spine. He was so calm in the midst of trucks and cars passing mere inches around him. I was in a trance just watching this being standing in the wind and rain, completely stoic.

He started walking towards me, still in the middle of the road. He ended up being a homeless man, draped in a tattered sheet to shelter from the rain. His scythe was a stick with a bag of clothes and trash. It was a relief at first but then he got close enough for me to see his face. His eyes were so tired. His whole face looked exhausted but so wise. And we locked eyes. I don’t know what it was but they were so deep. I almost fell into them. I completely forgot I was freezing and wet. I felt that same stillness that I felt when I saw him earlier from far away. Like his eyes were the only thing in that moment that mattered.

Advice

Miscellaneous.

Advice from a solo traveler:

Traveling is both unfulfilling and addicting. While I have my family, a job, security, and stability in my home country, something always pushes me to continue to travel. It’s never enough.

Advice from a traveler:

Never settle on people. If someone doesn’t meet your expectations in every way that you want them to, don’t feel pressured to stay with them. Find a significant other who perfectly compliments your life in a way that provides both contentedness and positive growth. Yeah the sex might be phenomenal but what is this person actually doing to help the achievement of your goals? Don’t let one really good aspect of a relationship overshadow many detriments.

Advice from a beautiful woman:

Nothing good is ever easy. It’s easy to set low expectations and go out having sex every night. But one day you will wake up and realize how unfulfilling it is. Finding someone who is complex, has difficult standards, and will lift you up AND being willing to put the time in to grow and develop a genuine connection isn’t easy… but it is fulfilling.

Advice from a dude:

Don’t expect people back home to fawn over stories of your travels. They largely don’t care. Not because they don’t care about you but because their lives haven’t changed like yours has. They just can’t relate to what you have gone through.

Advice from a banker:

Fuck your brains out until you are around 25. Don’t put too much time, effort, or energy into a relationship while you are young. Once you hit your mid-20’s, change your mindset and consider investing more into a person.

Advice from a traveler:

Everyone you talk to is going to give you their perspective. A little piece of themselves that they wish they had known sooner. This advice can be listened to but don’t take anything for face value, nor as a concrete fact of the world. You know about as much as everyone else does and no one really knows anything.

Change

Tbilisi, October 27th, 10:57PM

This feeling is rather difficult for me to put into words.

For the first time, I felt a surmounting ambition- from deep within me.

Some low and untouched part of my soul that briefly flickered with fire.

I am going to change the world.

I am going to change the world.

I have now wound my way to Jinan, the city in which I will be teaching semi-permanently. I was given access to my apartment and all its resources in full (and at no cost to me, I might add). However, a typhoon that decided to hit the city shortly after I arrived has rendered me short on stories to tell. Hard to write an entire blog post when you’ve been sitting inside all day, washing clothes, cleaning, and thinking about the hand soap you’re inevitably going to buy. Sooooo I think at this point I should talk about all the tiny subtle differences between China and America. These are the things that wear on me all the time but usually aren’t significant enough to mention in a story or blog post. They are all the little things that happen in-between the major events of my journey.

Firstly, the dreaded Foreigner Gawk (as dubbed by yours truly). This is something I’ve wanted to talk about for a while now. Walking down the street, people will stop what they are doing to look at you. They will turn their heads as you walk by. Flies buzz around their open mouths. It’s an extremely weird feeling. Cars will slow down so the drivers can get a better look at you. People will not-so-subtly take your picture. I honestly have had my picture taken more times in the month I have been living in China than I have the rest of my entire life (prolly).

There are many perspectives to being such a spectacle. On one hand, it makes it literally impossible to blend into a crowd. With so many people gawking at you, it’s easy to feel like a zoo animal on display. Chinese people have no shame and no chill. They will point at you, whisper to each other, and call out the few English words they know with a smugness that can be infuriating. People will ask to take pictures with you so they can brag to their friends and family about meeting a foreigner. However, it can also make you feel special. I feel unique and take on the attitude of “how can I defy their expectations?” “How can I break down the American stereotype?” I understand that for many many people in China, they have never seen a white guy in person before. It is a special thing to see. Mayhaps, a foreigner with an ego would feel like a king and a foreigner with insecurities would feel like an outcast. Perhaps it’s all about attitude. I will be honest and say- being watched and stared down ceaselessly wears on me and reminds me of my fondness for privacy.

The next ‘In-between’ is the language barrier. This one may seem obvious, being in a new country and all, but I didn’t expect it to be as mentally draining as it is. I generally pride myself on being a good communicator but I have found in this past month in China that I often take language for granted. I have acted out sentences like a game of charades, I have used translators, and even just “gone deaf” and not used language at all. Ordering food is often a production and the frustration has actually kept me from eating an occasional meal. “I’m not hungry enough to deal with it tonight,” I would tell myself. This has led me face to face with my assumptions about people. I would walk into a restaurant (thinking I understand how restaurants work) and be insanely misguided. I once sat at a table for 20 minutes without a single person offering their help, not because they were rude but because I had incorrectly assumed their role in our social script. Aha!! Social script. That is a fantastic way to explain why China can be so frustrating. In America, I know (and thus can assume) enough about the regular social scripts that I could function at a high level with minimal to no verbal communication. It’s with this confidence that I go into a social setting in China and fall flat on my face. The social scripts are not the same, and thus require an even further verbal interaction to bridge the gap. While this is frustrating it’s also fascinating to me. I can’t help but laugh sometimes at the absurdity of how serious I take certain interactions. I will feel myself getting angry because I want chicken and they server does not understand and then I just laugh. I’ll pull up a picture of a cartoon chicken on my phone and mime myself eating it. Soon the server and I are both laughing. It’s easy to take things too seriously.

Currently I am trying to learn more Chinese through an app called Hello Chinese. It’s been recommended by several people I’ve met in China and I do feel I’m improving. It’s fun to be able to say a word or phrase you know to a native and the light turns on inside their head. That momentary bridge, where two people from very different cultures met on an understanding, is immensely encouraging. But Chinese is slow and hard to learn. There isn’t an alphabet to build a foundation of learning. Instead, it’s building vocabulary, making and practicing sentences, and filling in the gaps yourself. Plus there’s tones and grammatical disparities to get in your way. It’s definitely not a language you just “pick up” from being around it.

The third ‘In-Between’ is the emotional weight of both being totally isolated from my native culture as well as living on my own without a safety net. Now I’ve mentioned my newfound appreciation for the support I get back home, but a bitter side effect of that is homesickness, loneliness, and self-doubt. I am constantly reminded that I could be back home: warm, safe, and comfortable. I could pet my dog Maverick, I could eat a hearty home-cooked meal, I could play games and laugh with my family, but instead I made the decision to fly to the other end of the Earth to live for a year. I feel bad sometimes. I question myself and doubt my decisions. Should I have left America? Should I have gone straight to college instead? Will I be better off because of my decision? How much am I actually getting out of this? How many of my friends will still be there for me when I come back? How many won’t? It’s a dangerous thing, being in my head as much as I am (especially rained in, cooped in my barren apartment). Ultimately, I believe I will be better off wether this trip was the right decision or not. If it is the best decision I could have made, then I will gain new perspectives on the world, meet people/build meaningful relationships, and have an appreciation for other cultures that I didn’t have when I left. If it is not, then I will be experienced to the sorrow of regret, loneliness, and pity, and therefore will not only be able to cope with that again later in my life in a better, healthier way, but also treat people going through similar feelings with an empathy I didn’t have before.

Right now, I am going through the worst of my time in China thus far. I do not have a classroom to distract me. I am alone in my apartment with myself and my mind. I am doing my best to understand the bias of my perspective, and how it will likely skew my thoughts toward the ‘dramatic’. But I also am experiencing these emotions for the first time and I don’t know how to scale them. Am I the only person among my friends that feels this way? Is it better/worse for me because I am in China? Is this something that people feel constantly but learn to deal with? I know life isn’t pain free, but to what degree am I allowed to say “hey that kinda hurts”? All in all, I am ignorant to these kinds of questions. And while there are absolutely people out there who could help me figure them out, I also think that it’s important for me to experience first-hand the answer to some of those. I’ll never unlock the answers to my own existence if I am only ever hearing about the existence of others.

And on that cheerful note,

My travels from Weifang to Shiqian were as follows: a taxi ride, a two-hour train ride, a 27-hour train ride, another taxi ride, a three-hour bus ride, a two-hour bus ride, and a partridge in a pear tree. Two non-stop days of traveling. No shower, no internet, no privacy. It was smelly, uncomfortable, and honestly pretty fun. Seeing the backroads to the Chinese countryside was fascinating and traveling through passes and tunnels in the mountains of Guizhou was absolutely stunning. You forget that you’ve been siting for hours and hours when your jaw freakin hits the floor. I certainly wasn’t complaining. Plus, our extended journey ended with a pot at the end of a gloomy rainbow: the Shiqian Hot Spring Holiday Hotel. This is a magnificent hotel, likely one of the nicest I’ve gotten the pleasure of staying at. It is situated riverside, and takes full advantage of the natural hot spring that the city is seated on. Highly impressed.

However, it was in this hotel that the emotional toll of moving to the other side of the globe started to settle in. I was anticipating being homesick but this feeling cannot really be put into words until you experience it yourself. I always considered myself to be an independent person. I’ve always been very capable of making decisions for myself and getting out of my comfort zone. Honestly, I have been confidently telling myself for the last four or five years that I could live on my own without too much trouble. However, I took for granted the amount of tremendous support I received from all of my friends and family. The copious, overwhelming, and fantastic amount of support. No matter where I was, what I was doing, there was always someone who had my back. There was always someone who would tell me I could do it, there was always someone who would give their time and resources to help me obtain my goals, there was always someone to pick me up when I fell flat on my face. This I did not realize until I was in a city in China, alone and mildly terrified, without any clue as to where I was and not a single soul that could’ve helped me in that moment. I am forever grateful for my family and friends and I apologize for not realizing how much they do for me sooner. As cliche as it is, you don’t know what you have until it’s gone (or until you move to the opposite side of the globe.)

This thought got me a thinkin’. I now know what I don’t have- but what do I have? What do the people in this tiny mountainous town have that makes them happy? So I set out on my first day of work with this in mind. The 20 minute walk from my hotel room to the school is littered with sidewalk shops, scooters, and stray animals. The city is clean but there is an obvious mark of borderline poverty. It was on this walk that I noticed, not a single person in the city was smiling. Children, babies, adults, the elderly- not a soul was smiling. Everyone was walking around with a bitter distaste saturating their complexion. Well dang… are they too poor to be happy? Is this entire community of people struggling to make ends meet? Is everyone just pissed off all the time?

Well…no. I think. Honestly I’m not sure. I am aware that contentedness, peace-of-mind, and gratitude are forms of immediate happiness that don’t necessarily warrant smiling. A person can be happy and not smile. But this community of people did not look content, at peace, or grateful. They looked unhappy.

Okay, I also am aware that my minuscule sample of people (being the 20-odd city-dwellers I passed while walking down the street) is not representative of the whole town. It was also early in the morning and most of these people were at work or headed in that direction (much like I was). But it still had me puzzled. If I had done the same experiment in Georgia would I have seen different results? Do people just smile at strangers on the street? And if they don’t, does that imply that they are unhappy? My efforts toward finding gratitude through this approach were unsuccessful.

So I began listing things I was grateful for. My hotel (a bed, running water, internet, safety, etc.), the school and supporting teachers, the money I have to pay for the things I need and want, the moral support I get from my family and friends in America (even when I move to China, you guys rock), and so much more. Of course this helped me. It always does and I recommend that more people take the time to think about this. But I am a foreigner who can’t speak the native language of the country I am dwelling and I can find happiness in the things that I have. Why can’t the locals? Why are they seemingly so unhappy?

This is a hard question to question to answer, especially because I can’t sit down and have a real conversation with any of these people in question. But I can speculate on human behavior. I know that people desire increasing complex things based on their needs that have already been met. These people have food, water, shelter, and safety. Sure they are poorer than the average American, but it’s not a dying village. It’s still a city and they are not starving. My guess is they take solace in relationships. They express their happiness within their families and use this to feel belonging. Grandparents are frequently seen raising children with equal effort as the parents. Children are taught to help out with work and cleaning without complaining. Parents provide food and monetary support to the others while maintaining order. I especially think this because of the family-dominated way of living in China. It is a safe way to live. And it is an easy way to find purpose within yourself- falling into a role that best benefits the family as a whole. You can find a sense of accomplishment and belonging when you see that the people you love are better off because of the work you put in. They, in turn, are more likely to put in the work to support you and the cycle of love and support continues. With this in mind I can see why people wouldn’t smile to a random stranger on the street- they are putting the work in and reaping the satisfaction of it later, with the people that they love.

While I am on the topic, I realized in this train of thought that the individualism that is so prevalent in America is a subtle mark of the high level of privilege we experience. Most Americans (emphasis on “most”, I understand that no statement can apply to all people) are guaranteed safety and physical needs. Most Americans also experience enough support and structure within their families that they have the freedom to move on to the next level of Maslowian needs: esteem, and eventually self-actualization. The idea of individuality and “self” is very alluring, but only to those who are fortunate enough to be able to leave the safety of family with starving or tripping on their shoelace and falling face first into poverty.

(I think some of the more dedicated religious monks around the world actually forsake some of their lower-level needs to obtain an extreme concept of self-actualization but this isn’t common enough to influence the theory or the statements that I made.)

Also please note: I understand writing about any kind of social phenomenon is inherently risky. I also understand that there are many many exceptions to the statements I’ve just laid out (even several I can think of myself). I am a young person who is just trying to make sense of the world around me while also staying in touch with my family:)

I have intentionally written very little about my experience as a teacher in Weifang up to this point. But the nine-day summer camp has come to an end and I have quite a lot to talk about. So get comfy, maybe grab a drink and some crackers, and get ready…

It’s story time.

From the first day of the camp I could tell I was in over my head. I had two classes: the “red” class and the “orange” class. My day began similarly to the class I had in Hainan Village in that I was nervous, the kids were shy, and I had no clue what I was doing. I attempted some simple icebreakers and, again, failed spectacularly. Wow… teaching is incredibly under-appreciated. I butchered a lesson on American Festivals and went home my first night exhausted and rather defeated. We were given a schedule with the topics that we should be teaching each day (colors, festivals, sports, etc.). In general there were two topics a day, which meant that I needed to prepare two lesson plans each day. You can imagine my stress as I attempted to throw together lesson plans every single night in my hotel room. As a nice bonus, the computers in the classroom are not very internet friendly so for quite some time I had a lot of trouble incorporating any kind of media into my lessons. On the bright side of that, I am now very very good at writing and drawing on a chalkboard.

I can say, I don’t have a favorite class. My “red” class was full of talkative kids that refused to sit down and listen. They would act up, work together in creative ways to annoy me, or just refuse to participate all together. I usually left the red class with a headache or a temper. My “orange” class was full of intelligent kids that were eager to learn and full and ready to participate in class. They were comfortable, knowledgeable, and keen to how I felt and reacted to things. I usually left that class with a smile and some pride. I swear I don’t have a favorite class….

My week continued with two topics a day stretched over six periods shared between two classes. Easy enough? Because I didn’t understand this until my second or third day. Just another great example of the communication between the school administrators and the foreign teachers. The overall chaos of the summer camp rang like an alarm bell, hovering over the heads of our foreign teacher group for the entire week. Plans would get made and canceled, we would be told to teach a topic with no warning whatsoever, the lunch times and bus departures changed daily, and no one on Earth could get a straight answer for the life of them. We woke up at 6:30 every morning and did not finish teaching until 5:30 that night. Fortunately, we were allowed a short two-hour break in the day to rest but most of us stayed at the school preparing the lesson plans for the afternoon.

Now, everyone in this group of foreigners is a certified English teacher, so naturally I felt like I was out of place. I had 5 days of teaching experience in the other camp that I was gripping onto in order to sail me through this one. Everyday I felt unprepared and a little less confident. My honest saving grace was a “high energy” classroom. I was teaching second grade and to them, it didn’t matter what or how I taught them, it only mattered that I was excited about teaching it. I began working out elaborate ways to win them over. On a day where “colors” was the topic, I bought frosting and food coloring to allow the kids to mix different colors to make new ones (and then be able to eat the purple, green, and orange frosting). The experiment failed spectacularly but the kids got icing (and cake to put it on) so they didn’t care.

I think it’s also important to note that we were being watched and studied by various Chinese teachers and administrators. Adults would walk in and out of our classes with no shame or respect. They would take pictures and videos of my teaching, furiously write notes on clipboards, and talk with each other in the back of my class. Genuinely frustrating. Now, not only was I insecure about my teaching but I was being watched and scrutinized.

Then one day I met The Headmaster.

The Headmaster was, quite literally, the headmaster of the entire school. There wasn’t a teacher, parent or administrator that had more authority over him. This old son of a bitch could silence an entire room with one word. He carried energy that could tear you down from the inside out. He was almost always silent and would probably cut off his legs before he cracked a smile. He was nasty, in the most jaw-dropping, powerful way. The Headmaster will likely never die (one can only assume he’s been alive since the creation of Earth). I’ve never looked him in the eye but he does know who I am, and let me tell you why.

One day, late in the week, we were told that the last two periods of the day would be blocked off so that the school could take formal pictures of all the classes and students. This was to be done outside. Now, all of us were well aware of the intense heat outside but neglected this fact because we didn’t have to prepare a lesson for two classes. However, this became glaringly apparent as they started taking kids outside. The picture day was instantly rescheduled to the next morning which meant that us teachers had to teach two lessons that we didn’t prepare for… great. As a direct quote from our foreign teacher supervisor, “due to this cancelation, you may do whatever you like in the classroom.” Fantastic!! It was hot, the kids were tired, why not put on a movie? And that’s exactly what I and most of the other teachers did. My class was silent, calm and perfect. There is no desk for the teacher in the classroom so I sat at the back and zoned out into the movie. Then- The Headmaster came.

He opened the door of my classroom and started observing. At this point I was unaware I was doing something wrong so I nodded at him and continued watching. His eyes glowed more and more red as he stood at the door, watching this abomination of teaching take place. I looked up at him again and where the Headmaster once stood, a 6-foot bull getting ready to charge, horns sharp and ready, now took his place. His gaze locked with mine and I instantly stood. Oh no. But instead of me he went for my TA, chewing her out in Chinese in front of my class of students. After 30 seconds of wrestling with a rampaging bull, my TA came over and quietly said, “you must turn these cartoons off.”

Fortunately for me, my inability to speak Chinese acted as a buffer between myself and the wrath of The Headmaster. I felt bad for my TA and immediately took the chastising to heart. I refocused my lesson, filling 35 minutes of class time on the spot. When class was over I returned to the teacher’s office where the foreign teacher supervisor was relaying a message from The Headmaster that “the foreign teachers have lost a passion for teaching, and that no more movies or videos will be allowed to be shown in class.” I single-handedly drained the “passion for teaching” out of all 22 foreign teachers because of this one act. Wow. Just wow.

It only escalated from there. There were numerous (as in 6 or 7, just let that quantity really sink in) separate paragraphs sent out about the situation in our teaching group chats. This eventually led to the supervisor asking each teacher for a list of ‘good points’ or accomplishments about their classroom. This was so the foreign teacher representative had some leverage when she had to answer to The Headmaster the next day. Are you kidding?? So because one kid was watching a video for one class, now all the teachers have to validate their own skill as a professional?? Good lord.

I went on the chat and apologized to everyone, taking full responsibility and explaining that 1) I was just doing was most everyone else was, 2) I have almost no teaching experience whatsoever, and 3) my actions shouldn’t reflect on all of the other great teachers in our group. Can’t say this was a good day for me.

Fortunately, I received a lot of support and advice from my fellow teachers. There wasn’t a single person in our group who wasn’t understanding about the situation. That helped a lot. I got advice and since then my confidence has grown quite a lot. But that day really set me back. Every lesson I had afterwards just didn’t quite feel the same. The days following I had thrice the number of teachers in my room at any given point. The Bull himself even made a few appearances. I felt rather defeated.

The camp closed out and finished with a corny little closing ceremony that was held in each class to showcase what the kids had learned. It included funny songs, mini plays, and speeches. I watched both of my classes from the back and realized how connected I had actually become with my students in just one week. But as the ceremony ended my TA approached me and said “the kids would like to give you a hug.” Hm. Alright sure. This hug included 30 children bear hugging me with every ounce of energy they had in their tiny bodies. And they wouldn’t let go. Every single one of them participating and laughing and smiling- because of me. I handed out hundreds of my signature ‘explosion high-fives’ but the hugs and laughing didn’t end. Almost every parent in the room at this point was recording me and my waistband of tiny humans. we were going on two or three minutes like this. I was laughing but I could’ve easily broken out into tears. Who cares what some old rock has to say about my class, my kids had a freakin blast. I made, however small, an impact on every one of them. That was enough for me.

Weifang started like any other trip to a city in China: with a terrifying experience with random Chinese dudes stuffing me into their cars at the airport and silently driving me to where I need to go. In a way I should be thankful… these cigarette-saturated parking lot crawlers have always looked after me. Haha!

Weifang is a city in Shangdong province. It is a beautiful urbania (yes, it’s my blog I can make up my own words if I want) full of colorful lights, wonderful river walks and bountiful shopping malls. Truly, the city dweller’s paradise. Like most cities in China, Weifang has a beautiful haze that glosses over the city like an over-powdered donut. Mmm pollution is beautiful:). The view from my fifth floor room in the Oceanwide Hotel captures a fantastic red sunset cast over the miles of impoverished apartment buildings scattered through the city.

My first day as a teacher began Sunday when a meeting, conducted by the school officials, was held to instruct the foreign teachers on how to act and what to expect from the summer camp. By this time, I had met about half of the group of foreigners via the hotel breakfast and the bus ride to the school. In contrast to the village in Hainan, all of the foreign teachers were just that- foreign. No English-speaking Chinese volunteers. However only about 1/3 of the group is actually from a native English speaking country. Most are from South Africa, but a few are from Russia, Poland, Scotland, England, and Australia.

And what an interesting group it is.

Within the first 5 minutes of the meeting, a woman took it upon herself to demand color printing- stating that “my flash cards need color, without my flash cards my classroom is boring. You can’t take away the fun in the classroom.” As a very recent former student I can say with absolutely confidence, if a teacher relies on flash cards to make the classroom fun, the class isn’t going to be fun. (The school officials actually bought a color printer because of that 20 minute argument, by the way). The meeting degraded from there, eventually settling into a nice consistent chatter of confusion and chaos. This was partially due to poor organization and leadership but also to the outlandishly stuck-up expectations of the foreign teachers. People demanding things left and right, it snapped me back into the real world. The village was calm, slow, and people did what they could and that was enough. No washer? Wash your clothes in the sink. No paper in the class? Come up with a fun game to get them engaged. It was a culture of adapting and being content. Now I am surrounded with a group of proud teachers that will compromise very little for their own needs. Like my very wise mentor has said many times, “no expectations are the best expectations.”

Regardless, these fanatic people are not in my classroom, it’s just me. I have two second grade classes: one class of angel scholars and one class of talkative inmates. More on this later.

So far this week I have had the freedom to explore this city in more detail than I will ever need. I’ve spent hours walking along the river listening to old people chatter away on a bench, musicians playing Chinese folk songs, and the low drone of thousands of scooters zipping in all directions. I’ve mazed my way through 20-story shopping malls, permanent fair rides, and street vendors. I’ve seen homeless people. I’ve seen people wearing 10,000 dollar suits. The city life is fast, dirty, clean, chaotic, and brilliantly organized. Much of what fascinates me is not the enticing promises of what the city has to offer (shops, food, bright lights, etc) but the way these promises interact and manipulate people. It’s not very different from an American city and offers its own insight into the wonderful world of capitalism.

As much as I try to separate myself from the allure of the city, I did find some hidden gems specific to my own interests (there’s something for everyone I suppose). I stumbled my way to a shop with a saxophone hanging on the wall. There wasn’t much else but a man sitting at a counter inside. I went in and asked about the sax. He didn’t speak English but pointed to another man outside and said “boss.” Hmm alright. I introduced myself and told him that I played saxophone. His English was much better. He explained that this was a tutoring agency for children to learn piano and drum set. He went further to explain that there was a black man that comes to Weifang every once in a while to jam out with him and that it would be awesome if I joined with my sax. Uhhhhh….. hell yeah! He was so incredibly nice and welcoming. I asked if I could use this shop as a quiet place to practice my saxophone and of course he said yes. It was a fantastic feeling to be able to meet someone totally different from me and connect so suddenly. I may never see him again in my life but I will always remember his kindness.

At night I embrace the city in a much different way. Drugs, smoking, and alcohol.

Of course “drugs, smoking, and alcohol” is slang for “sipping on orange juice in my hotel room until 1 am and falling asleep on my laptop.”

Regardless, I have made many many friends, seen many cool places, and gained insight into the diversity and simultaneous continuity of people.

Upon initial inspection, the Meimei Village, centered in the green, bountiful island of Hainan, China, is exactly what you’d expect from an underdeveloped, poverty-stricken community of farmers. Concrete roads that are permanently plastered with dirt, homes made out of crumbling brick and bamboo, chained up dogs that you can smell before you can see, and trash and rotting fruit on the sides of the road all create an atmosphere that is painfully similar to that of Western news, media, and movies. (Eleven commas in two sentences, baby!) And rightfully so- this is the truth. The “poor village” trope that many Americans associate with much of China is rooted in fact. The village is stinky, dirty, and poor. This is irrefutable.

My perception of this community led me to the question: how could someone be happy living in a place like this? Granted- this is an ignorant question but it’s asking led me to some interesting observations. Firstly, no one in the village seemed unhappy. Everyone I passed on the street would smile or wave at me. Any opportunity to be generous that presented itself would be seized without hesitation. Even to an American who has everything, the village people were humble, kind, and giving. Naturally, you can assume that their personal happiness must be detached from the material goods in their lives. Of course they would cook two entire chickens (half their inventory) for one meal because to them, a chicken is a chicken and not a measure of wealth or happiness… which leads me to my next observation.

Second, the people in this community possess a contentedness that is absent in most Americans. I noticed that the village was not without power or internet. They have every ability to see how life is for others and often do (i.e. watching Chinese singing shows, news, etc). They are not ignorant to how life could be. This is very interesting to me. Most people, upon knowledge that other people have a better life, would desire to improve their lives in that direction (the “grass is greener” phenomenon). But not the villagers of Meimei village. Yes the grass is greener in the wealthy neighborhoods but the guava are much sweeter in this village.

My third observation is beauty in simplicity. I mean… that really says it all, doesn’t it? Sure there may be mud all over your feet and legs but when you look up and realize you’re standing in a field of papaya trees and a butterfly gently crosses your path- you can’t help but crack a wide open smile.

Yes, the MeiMei village is underdeveloped but it’s not an underdog. We were told,

“You are not here to save the world. The world does not need to be saved, it needs to be influenced in the most positive way possible.”

Isabella Qin

Monday whipped around the corner and hit me like a crashing wave. Fortunately for me- I’m a good swimmer. I got up at 6:30, ate breakfast, and began the 12 minute walk to the school. Julie, Ida, and I went the the first class we would be assisting in that day (grade 3) and began settling in and preparing for the first day of students. The classroom consisted of a chalkboard, 20 odd desks, and corners filled with dirt and trash. Lovely. Today, we were going to teach them “Hello” and “My name is” today so an icebreaker game seemed appropriate. When the kids arrived and class began, not a single student would open their mouth.

A very shy group of kids indeed.

We ended up “warming up” the class by playing a game where they stood by their desks and copied my body motions (coupled by ridiculous sound effects of course). Flailing arms in all directions, jumping in circles, and giggles galore eventually permeated through each student in the class. They became much less shy and seemingly more comfortable with their peers. Fantastic!!! Well… only kinda. Retrospectively, I realized many of the students had a paralyzing fear of failure. Or maybe, more accurately, a fear of looking stupid in front of their fellow students. Hmm, I guess these child-prodigy, Chinese baby genius are a little more human than I thought. Who knew?

Classes throughout the week continued in a similar manner. A vicious cycle of trying an activity, failing because the students refused to participate, improvising a game to warm them up, and being surprised when they still didn’t participate. Every class was a little bit successful but never to the extent that we anticipated. It has been a very interesting journey thus far evaluating myself as a teacher and the village kids as students. Unfortunately for the sake of the Meimei village, I did not quite come to an understanding with myself and teaching methods before the bulk of the week passed me by, but looking forwards, I have a year yet to figure it out 🙂

Bonus:

We had a music lesson in which I got to break out my saxophone for the first time in China. I tried to teach ‘Happy Birthday’, ‘Old Macdonald’, and ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb.’ Per usual the kids were very reluctant to participate and I ended up doodling nursury rhymes on my saxophone to a practically silent classroom. Yayy!! I think I am the first exposure to organized music they have ever had…

I awoke from my hotel in Shanghai. A very pleasant night’s sleep indeed. I showered, packed and headed downstairs, back towards the main lobby area. I was pointed in the direction of the breakfast buffet (a separate building across the alley way).

Ahhh my first meal in China. The buffet was stacked with all kinds of steamed buns, fried rice, yams, tomatoes, savory chicken, pickled everything, and many pastries. It was colorful, exotic, and freakin delicious. There are signs hanging on the walls that say “Cherish food to avoid waste.” Needless to say I cherished every bit of what I had. American breakfast doesn’t even come close.

From there I got on a shuttle and took a short sweet drive back to the airport. The Shanghai International Airport is fantastically different during the day. Before the airport was practically abandon. Today- there were tens of thousands of people in a massive departure area. A sea of Chinese people, many with “duty free store” bags filled to the brim. Checking in was surprisingly easy and so was security. Not all that different from American airports, just way more people.

I walked likely 2 miles to get to my exit and plopped down and rested. Being the only white guy in a terminal of 400 Chinese people… I got a lot of stares. I also experienced younger Chinese women come over to me, smile, and sit down right next to me (despite the variety of seating choices available). I would smile back but usually just return back to whatever I was scrolling through on my phone. After several minutes they would turn away and get up and leave. Weird.

My flight was uninteresting save the last 20 minutes. This was the first time I can remember flying over the ocean. It was breathtaking at first. Seeing the vastness of the ocean, coupled with the ever so slight curve in the horizon. It was my “holy shit I’m on the other side of the world” moment.

Anyway, we landed and I was instantly reminded of Georgia when I got off of the plane. Hot, sticky, humid. Just like home:) The difference being the lack of good air conditioning. Since I stepped off of the plane I don’t know if I’ve ever quite cooled off. Thank god for deodorant.

I was picked up by a volunteer named Helen and two other Chinese volunteers. We drove about a half hour back to the village and got settled in. When I say “village” I want you to imagine what you think a tropical Chinese village would look like. Got it? Okay that’s about what it looks like. The village perfectly met my expectations. Full of farmers with rice hats carrying baskets of vegetation, little kids laughing and running around in flip flops, buildings that were once rather glorious but are now architectural fossils, and a spider web of timid power lines running from lamp to lamp. (More on this later). I was situated up in 3 story building with a room containing 6 beds with barely enough space in between for a suitcase.

I set my stuff down and claimed a bunk (being the first person to arrive). And was told by a coordinator that dinner would be in 20 minutes. I rested for a while, just taking in all the things I’ve seen and experienced in just a few hours. Eventually I went downstairs for dinner. Walking down the final flight of stairs I was met with about 25 eyes staring directly at me.

Everyone was seated and ready to eat. I thought I was the only person in the building! There were 4 European girls seated at another table but they seemed as comfortable and confident as every other Chinese person they sat next to. Great- I’m the outcast yayyy. But need not fear. As soon as I took my seat, some Chinese volunteers in very broken English introduced themselves and made small talk with me about my situation. I explained that this week was only the very beginning of a year-long journey in China. This was another huge thing that set me apart from everyone else. Most of the volunteers were other Chinese people from various parts of China that were spending a week of their summer to help out in a poverty struck village. Everyone at the table was very nice and welcoming but once the food arrived it was a relatively quiet meal.

We all ate, had a group meeting about the teaching for the week and then separated into grade levels to discuss lesson plans for the next day. At this point I learned that the European girls were divided into pairs and each pair was in charge of certain grade levels. Meaning that we (“we” being the fluent English speakers) were not just part of one class but several grades to assist with the English lesson. I was paired with Ida and Julie, two high school girls from Denmark. They were in charge of grades 2, 3, and 4. The other girls, Rebecca and Merriam, were from Sweden and were in charge of grades 1, 5/6.

We spent about an hour or so going over an English lesson and finding ways to break the ice between us and the kids. We decided to teach “Hello, my name is..” for the 3rd graders and then play a game where we go around in a circle and introduce ourselves. What an ignorantly optimistic plan…

Overall, this entire day was very “in the moment” for me. I wasn’t informed about my status as a teacher, I didn’t know anyone around me, where I was, or what I was supposed to be doing. Learn to adapt quickly I guess.

My travels began as planned. I said goodbye to my wonderful parents and set off on my journey. I took a flight from Charlotte to Detroit to kick off my journey. Short, sweet, and uneventful.

Now in theory, I should’ve had a 1 hour layover in Detroit and been on the next flight to Shanghai however, this wasn’t the case. Because of delays I ended up staying FIVE hours in the Detroit concord-A section of the airport.

Now as boring as this may have seemed I actually got a good chance to get used to traveling on my own. The concord is about 2 miles long from end to end with about 80 or so gates. Not small. There were a lot of moving sidewalks and even a tram that ran on second floor to take travelers from one side of the concord to the other. All in all it was a very nice airport. Likely top three I’ve ever been to.

At about this point I realized (while decked out in sweatpant-joggers and a dirty t-shirt) that my first impressions when I got to China would be subpar. I figured “I’m in this massive airport, I’ll just buy some nice clothes.” And thus I did. I bought a fancy pair of shorts and I was ready to take on the world. The nice Indian lady who helped me find shorts that were just right also inquired about my travels. I filled her in about China, teaching, and Tru Experience (the company I am traveling with). Almost immediately she shoved a pen in my hand and “asked” for my email. Her daughter, dubbed “Sarah” (if that’s even her real name), is also interested in going to China and apparently will be in touch with me about it. I had no issue with this, as I am a beacon of infinite knowledge but the Indian lady’s attitude about it was humorous to me. She didn’t ask me for my email she told me to give it to her. And Sarah would be getting in touch. I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that and I was delighted to help but I chuckled. Chuckle chuckle.

From here, I exchanged all of the cash in my wallet to China Yuan. 1100 Chinese Yuan to be exact. It felt very weird to have these otherworldly slips of currency being the only physical money to my name but you know what they say…. “Yuan Yuan bills y’all.”

Finally it was time to board for Shanghai. Let me start by saying this plane was freakin huge. Probably the biggest commercial jet I’ve ever seen in my life. Like 3 stories tall. Like a Great Dane amongst poodles. It was big. And that was reflected inside. There were three columns of three seats totaling 9 people in each row. Which means there were two separate aisles (each aisle being manned by a separate flight crew) and about 300 total seats. Fortunately for me, I was seated at the first row of my section so infinite leg room PLUS the person I was seated next to moved to a different seat so I have the entire seat next to me to put all my stuff. It was rather glorious. But all in all, the plane ride was rather uneventful. 14 hours of bad airplane food, stomach-dropping turbulence, and tossing and turning trying to get to sleep. Not the best flight I’ve ever been on, but whatever.

I arrive in Shanghai. Because of the delay our plane doesn’t have a gate available so they take us to a “remote gate” and shuttle all 300 of us on busses back to the main airport. The entire airport is DEAD. Like we’re probably the only passengers left in the airport. We have to go through customs but first they take all the “aliens” and take us to machines and take pictures of our face and collect finger prints for all 10 of our fingers. This data is now cemented to my name via my passport, so that’s fun I guess. We’re waddled through immigration and then customs and I’m finally freeeeee-nope.

At this point an airport staff member flags me down and asks where I am going. “I have a connecting flight tomorrow, I was going to find a place to sleep in the airport.” This wasn’t the correct answer. He explains that I cannot stay in the airport and that I need to get a hotel. Fortunately, that classic Chinese hospitality kicks in and he flags down a “hotel staff” (as indicated by her name badge that she motioned towards about 3 times). Truthfully, I have no reason not to trust them but also the only thing that separates them from everyone else in the airport is a tiny badge. Whatever- adventure awaits. I follow them through the airport and the guy pulls his car around. I load my luggage in the back and the three of us take off into the city.

They are speaking Chinese about as fast as an English audiobook set to 3x speed. Now, I know very minimal Chinese so I wasn’t expecting to understand much. And yet somehow, I was disappointed at the fact that I literally knew nothing. At one point they asked me about this and I responded with ”你好，我的民资是威廉。” Hello, my name is William. They both lit up and repeated Weilian a few times in understanding. It was a cool feeling to briefly break the impossibly large language barrier, and something that I look forward to doing more and more throughout this year.

They drove through the city and eventually plopped me off at a fancy hotel. Thank the freakin lord. The entirety of the time I spent with these two employees I was on edge. I wasn’t sure if they were going pull a gun and ask for all my luggage and money or bamboozle me with an outrageous service fee for what they were doing. They seemed too generous and free willing with their services. I mean… other than a commission they weren’t getting a whole lot out of helping this dumb-looking American kid in the middle of the night. Especially because the hotel was 15 minutes out of the way from the airport. I was friendly and mostly relaxed but while they were racing Chinese back and forth my mind was racing with contingencies. What could I live without? What would appease them without ruining my trip? Could I talk them out of it? It was an honest relief to get to my hotel room with my safety and belongings.

The room was about the same as an American hotel room but with an extremely strong Chinese flair. Who would’ve thought? I made some tea, wound down, and went to sleep. Thankfully through very deliberate effort, I experienced almost zero jet lag in transitioning from the 12 hour time change (outside of natural traveling fatigue). What a long, grueling, and fantastic day it has been.

On July 5th I will get on a plane headed to China. I leave from Charlotte and fly to Chicago, then Shanghai, and finally Haikou.

I will be spending my first week or so in Hainan, enjoying the beach and mountains while getting an ‘orientation’ about the culture. I will be spending the week with my wonderful new friend, Isabella, who has been helping me organize all of this. She promises to give me a chance to work with Chinese kids, other volunteers (both foreign and Chinese), and be able to adjust to the culture a little. This will be a fantastic grace period for me (especially because the island of Hainan is dubbed “Chinese Hawaii”).

After this orientation I will get in a plane and head Northeast to Jinan, China. This city is a bullet-train ride away from Beijing. I will participate in a summer camp as an English teacher. I will be compensated for my time during the camp. Keep in mind- this part of my trip is a bit of a gray area. I know where I will be but I have no clue what I will be doing or the kinds of accommodation I will receive. This is where my open-minded, adventure instinct kicks in! I cannot wait to see what’s in store.

Following this summer camp I will fly to a different city (???) and do a similar camp for about 10 days. Again, with the promise of a monetary compensation. By now, it should be around the first week in August.

At this point in my adventure, I am a free bird so to speak. I will have two to three weeks of freedom to myself. I can relax in my apartment in Jinan, I can travel around the country and try not to get lost, or anything in between. ADVENTUREE!

I will close out this trip with ~10 months~ in Jinan, China (where the first summer camp was). This is where I will be officially employed as a supplementary English consult. I will be teaching a class of middle schoolers, making conversation in English and helping them practice. I will be provided with a dorm-style apartment and a monthly stipend for food, clothes, and miscellaneous spendature.