The differences between Beijing and the provincial cities I've been living in for the past year are not subtle. The urban cesspit is intimidating and unknown. The public transportation map renders my frontal lobe numb. I begin perusing a bus line map that leads my eyes to unknown realms known as neighborhoods. I begin with assertiveness, a strong desire and motivation to get informed. Fifteen minutes later, I give up and plug in a DVD.

Scarface. Let's watch Al Pacino stuff as much go powder up his nose as possible. That oughta bring my brain back to life. And a cigarette. That oughta release some much needed endorphins. I grab the map again and decide it's futile. I'm just going to have to learn by getting lost and finding my own way around.

I leave the flat and take a long deep breath of the frigid air that has migrated from Siberia and settled in the flat lands of Beijing. I walk around. Pass a McDonalds. Ahh...the western invasion. There's the bus stop. Too bad I can't read Chinese all that well. Hmm...scrath of the head, hail of a taxi cab. Much easier. The office building is in sight and I'm glad I made it. It's an accomplishment. I only had to call for directions once. I want a gold medal for this. A meeting and quick catered lunch later and it's time to brave the jumbled grid of boulevards and streets that make up Beijing. Overcrowed as usual. That's fine. The anonymity that so many people afford me is something I enjoy. Let me just melt into the crowd for a second...I'll be back in a few.

Empty pack of cigarettes, I temporarily divert my failing attention to the street seller who peddles pirated DVD's. Cheap as hell, I'll take this one, that one, and yeah. This one too for extra measure. Quick SMS to the girlfriend. She's in a tattoo parlor. A tattoo parlor? Oh, her friend is permanately marking his body with ink and she's just watching. For now. Don't get any ideas...

The net bar. The jumbled Chinese language that leads to confusion about how much per hour, and which computer I'm to sit at. Smiles at the end of the transaction. The flicker of the awakening screen and the hum of the fan that lives deep in the bowels of a machine that is almost as intelligent as I. Empty pack of cigarettes. Lemme think. I think. I think. I think it's time to go.

China is a country endowed with a rich and colorful history. Owning deeply engrained traditions that few of it's population stray from it is a country that is hard to decipher for the outsider. Often what is visible is only a fraction of what exists. China is a seemingly never ending tangle of milleniums old customs that it's people have endeared themselves to and cannot forget or alter. This is slowly changing however in the bigger, more developed cities. Newer generations are leading more independent lives seperate from their parents, and going abroad for education and work, leaving behind the traditions of the past and rushing into a world of modern thought. 

Ancient Chinese thinkers such as Confucius taught that filial duty is of the utmost of importance. His teachings were revered and have been made an institution. Chinese politics and education are influenced and speckled with the teachings of Confucius and his disciples. Chinese children are often caught up in the dilema of staying close to home to make certain their parents are well cared for, or striking out on their own life that may lead them thousands of miles away. Ancient traditions of reciprocal acts of friendship or guan xi bind people to one another. Religious customs see many Chinese going to temples to offer sacrifices to dead relatives. With it's rigid culture of undying tradition, China is starting to experience the birth pains of an old society  attempting to enter a new world less focused on the rites of ancient times. Modern, less orthodox ways of thinking are beginning to take hold in the developing nation. These new modes of thought are centered in the more developed cities of China. What is becoming more and more a less strictly controlled economy coupled with the prospect of wealth are drawing the Chinese away from the old schools of thought while pointing their eyes to a richer future.

To the newcomer, much of China's customs are misunderstood, or simply unnoticed. The Chinese take it for granted that outsiders won't understand their culture, and leave it at that. But spend some time with them, living with them, getting to know their families, and the traditional China will shine. The communal dinners which showcase an entire family sharing are something obvious that the foreigner can witness. An elderly mother who moves in with her son and his family is welcomed and called mother by all in that household. Family is important to the Chinese and is an institution all it's own. At temples, incense is purchased and set ablaze in recognition of deceased family members. The interaction of family members in China is striking and beautiful. Contradictions that have sprouted from the new thoughts are straining these traditions though. Less important is the well being of parents, more important is a good education that leads to a good job and life perhaps in a foreign country. 

It is my belief that it is the introduction of western society and the prospect of wealth that has spurned these sometimes subtle yet undermining revolutions. A new found freedom to chase after that which was once unattainable has many young Chinese doing just that: chasing after dreams that were once impossibilities to all but a fraction of the population. Twenty years ago, China was staggering under incredible poverty that forced many to work in fields. Econimic reform has changed some of that giving Chinese citizens the right to chance their enterprising skills on an ever widening market. Attention has shifted from the filial duty preached by Confucius, to the fattening of bank accounts and a hunger for the outside world. It's an amazing revolution.

The old China is still very evident and ancient practices are still, well, practiced. At times the shift is very subtle and at other times is glaring. When people speak of their disenchantment with the Communist regime, or when they speak of their dreams to travel abroad the change is evident. Higher salaries for teachers and other workers showcase subtle improvements in the economy. China will continue to change with a governement bent on developing it's nation and entering the world economic stage while importing foreign thought and capitol and giving China a major facelift at the same time. The people eat well these days, and the days of incredible struggle are transforming into a fading memory.

I've been blind to much of what China is, but I've also seen sides of China that were given to me because I existed in the very heart of it. I plunged deep into China and experienced the soft underbelly. Living outside of the developed areas, I saw what the visitor to Beijing or Shanghai won't. I saw a world that exists by the pulling together of family members and a sense of community never seen in my native country. At times it was fascinating to see this clock tick, to watch it move and dance, unchanged for thousands of years. Seeing the flip side of the coin in the major centers of trade and developement, I was shown a completely different world that is seperating itself from the traditions that dwell in the countryside. A contradicting paradox that is yielding to a new time, and a new season.

Moments extend into days. Conversations with God extolling upon a doubt that seriously oppresses. Gentle replies urging patience and tolerance. A spell of quiet contemplation with a being by my side that truly understands what it is to soothe. Thank thee verily. Dirty knees that lead to a purged mind and cleansed spirit. The tolerance and patience being suggested amidst a subsiding squall that once blinded, becomes possible. The anxiety that will be exorcised and dissapear with the establishment of a new routine loses it's rigid nature. It's been an uphill march against the wind. The apocalyptic storm lashed out once or twice but has been succesfully staved off for the most part.

And now! The crest of the embattled hill is coming into view. I am left imagining the pristine, virgin valley on the other side. Shades of purple and sparkling streams glistening in the sunlight. Invisible, light air, uncommon in the heavily industrilized Communist cement block neighborhoods, is inhaled and savoured. Yes, the struggle is all but finished now, and it has not been in vain. Let us make right the path we have chosen, and not look back. What say you?

Don't look back. The past is always capable of stinging. The healing of wounds inflicted leaves a scar. The image of a scar is the proof of a healing, but also the evidence of damage done. I must forgive and be forgiven, as must we all.

I ache for the valley. If the victory wasn't at hand I believe I'd surrender. I'd forfeit this campaign and march home. A richer man to be sure, but unfulfilled. The valley. Give me the valley. Two more days and 1,200 miles, and then the enchanted descent into the promised land that no scouts have perused save but I. The image of collapsing and being smothered by a place so welcome after the harsh battlefield rolls over in my mind time and time again. Stock piles of milk and honey amidst amber waves of golden grain. Let it be that which my mind has conjured! Let it be while whispering words of subsistence.

Pachabel's Canon in D Major rolls over him in gentle waves that simply fill him up. He sits with his head in his hands as he takes a deep breath.

"It's been a long year," he muses to himself. He sits straight up in his chair and reaches for his pack of cigarettes. He lights one and inhales the pallid grey ball containing carcinogen good times.

He hasn't stayed in the same place for more than five months. There were times when he wanted to stay, but couldn't. Every five month cycle has been the same for him. At the beginning, the imminent departure was hidden by his procrastinative personality. He'd think about leaving some other time, he'd put it off. And why not? There is an excitement that comes with new surroundings and new social cirlces. Things that distract. And then suddenly, it was time to make the journey that always begins in a train station. Fully loaded with a bulky duffel bag and scarred backpack, he sits on dirty benches until the voice belonging to a tired man in an official uniform cries excitedly, "all aboard!"

The walk through the gate where tickets are stamped, the slowing train that finally comes to a stop. Boarding the train and securing his luggage on racks that are heavily over burdened, and then finally sitting down.

Train travel depresses him. He stares out the window for long intervals without looking at anything. There are times when he attempts to focus on the blurry images screaming past him and other times when he watches the seemingly immobile, distant landscape pass slowly by. The iron horse that lumbers along on it's carefully laid tracks as it slices through monotonous peasant settlements that display a backward underbelly.

He's never sure when the train ride shifts from an excercise in gathering distance from that which he has left behind, into an expectation that of his new destination. And once the train starts moving, he doesn't want it to stop. The sky turns dark and the only thing the window offers is the reflection of fellow passengers just as bored as him and stark lighting that leaves bold lines at incomprehensible angles on the frosted glass.

The occasional stops at countryside depots to pick up new passengers while at the same time excreting old ones are a distraction he'd rather do without. He loathes the interruption in the rythym afforded by the train passing over the steel tracks. The gentle bumps and subtle changes in direction force him to readjust his position upon his seat. It's like being gently rocked to sleep.

He has endured what will be his last train ride for some time and enters a land that carries on at a dizzying pace. Sonic waves that carry the shouts of desperate peddlers describing wares that are for sale. Engines combusting next to each other eager for a green signal while spewing carbon dioxide waste. Inside the buildings he passes while floating down the shoulders of broad boulevards, business deals are being negotiated, artists are creating, and mothers are cooking. He senses that which he does not know with every closed door he passes, bulky, heavy luggage in tow. He needs work, and a new place to call home. He has arrived, and he must conquer; in order to secure security and settle into a life that pleases. He walks. A fish. Out of water.

He longs for a cigarette and Pachabel's Canon in D Major while sitting in peace inside a dwelling he has imprinted with the weight of his habits.

Behold, the wonder of the Chinese New Year is upon us. We are exiting the year of the sheep and ushering in the year of the monkey. The school grounds are deserted and my existence in Tengzhou feels hollow. I have completed my work here and my move to Beijing is bearing down upon me and those I have known while here.

They tried to hinder my advance across the northern Chinese frontier of course. They made last ditch efforts promising higher salaries and school funded excursions throughout the province. I didn't waver, however, my banner did not fall. My resolution to escape what has become mundane proved too strong for them. Although they were armed with Chinese charm showcased in smiles and banquets, I stood my ground and stirred my desire to not offend with a staunch rebuttal of, "I can't. Thank you all the same."

And now, the final bell has rung and the students have trapsed over concrete paths on their way to enjoy their Spring Festival holiday. I am left with the residue of a semester spent in an anonymous Chinese city and I feel accomplishment rush over me in waves. I have lived with the Chinese in a real way, outside of brazen developement brought on by western capital. I've existed in the clutches of basic needs that are satisfied with nothing more than a full stomach and a home to return to. Families pool funds to provide a basic education, and family bonds are fortified at the communal dinner table. I've watched the beauty of simple life transpire and I'm ready to leave it. My selfishness makes me twinge as I take from a place that has only unseen things to offer. Unseen but felt like a dead weight dropped from upon high.

Given a way to show my thankfulness, I'd do it. My friendship shared over jars of steaming tea in one room abodes is all that I can give though. The gift of my culture would harm a society not ready or willing to accept it. I can only observe and smile. My time here is done, there is little left to do, indeed there is nothing left to do but depart.

I will make the journey into the northern capitol and relish the fresh sights and sounds. The sprawling metropolis that has absorbed the tides of change and has blossomed into a hotbed of culture and newness. It is there that I can spread my wings for one last final assault before striking camp and heading home. Taking with me the spoils that will neither rust nor mold.

Waking up is imminent. The hunger that follows is as unrelenting as the light that drawn yet transparent curtains allow to pour into the room. The day must start and things must be done. It's acceptable to allow for a few more minutes of laying in a peacful state that will soon been gone. The warmth that accumalates under the quilt pacifies any desire for productivity and I am indeed thankful that no duty will be calling today. I am free to exploit laziness and soon am safely slumbering.

I am soon awake again and am not drawn into a fight to remain so. I lay with open eyes as the same light and hunger I despised moments before returns. With these enemies upon me, I am forced to stand and march to a cold shower stall. The steam loosens my senses and I become aware once again.

I contemplate my rendezvous with the street food vedor that perches around the loud corner. Her cheap food makes me feel good and fills a need we all share. I dress and gather the necessary pocket filling items. Make a quick look around the inside of my living room and head out the door. The square outside my door is dirty and wanting of human attention. The neglect has accumalated and has made itself at home. I pass unwanted wrappers and haphazzard cinder blocks. I'm thinking of the vegetable pancake and the satisfied hunger I shall soon know.

I thrust my hands in my pockets and walk down the ugly alley. To my left is the backside of restaurants and stores that shoot off their greasy black air through even blacker and clogged ventilation fans. I must stoop to avoid being sprayed with the foulness. The street greets me with the familiar blur of a million bicycles and pedestrians that contribute to the human cesspit. It's amazing. I'm amazed. I cast a glance to the familiar corner and I see her. The objective is in sight, and she is cooking. A quick hello to an aqcuiantance and I'm on my way to a fed hunger.

Her frame is small and her hands are brown and overworked. Her smile is warm and her movements are all knowing. She is so practiced that I believe she ponders other things much far removed from the task at hand. She knows me and there isn't any pretension. She gathers the ingredients I like and begins. I fail to notice everything she does. It's just another trip to the corner where I buy food. She will be there tomorrow and I know this.

The smell of fried vegetables wafts up and dances with my nose. It smells good, I think to myself. I part with my money and take my prize home. I consume it and don't think. Tomorrow will doubtless be the same thing that has become a ritual. The walk down my filth ridden alley, the turn and the glance to the lady on my corner. The walk to the stall and the looks I give to all things Chinese in a world that will manage just fine after I am gone. To call a place home for but a season is fine at the beginning of the season. When the season begins to fade, so does the feeling. And so it is time for a different place, and another season.

Creedence Clearwater Revival plays through the speakers attatched with a wire to my PC. Great tune. I have it on repeat. I sit here and wait, and wait. Actually, I'm just wasting time, something I'm pretty good at. It's something I do a lot of these days. My mobile phone sits there idle, just like me, man.

I'm moving faster, gaining momentum, can't turn back now. The brick wall is getting closer. The lines of mortar that seperate the red bricks are coming into focus now. I hope my vehicle doesn't crumple up into a ball and cease to work. I'd much rather prefer to have the brick wall collapse with as little damage to my person as possible, there will be minor scratches along the peripheral edges for sure, but hopefully the meat stays intact. Hopefully it doesn't fry and sizzle like so many pieces of bacon.

I fear failure. I fear beauracracy. Both are big looming objects in China. An expired visa. A light wallet. Few contacts. Anxiety. The fucking anxiety, man. Something has to give. A little nudge here, a tug there and we'll see what happens. Worst case is a flight back to the States. Best case is six months of employment and a stress free relationship with a Han descendant.

While it's true I don't want to leave, I also am a bit weary of all the cultural barriers. Maybe that will change living in a city that is more accostomed to having foreign flesh walking around. It must change. Small town China can only be taken for so long before leaving is the only option. But, small town China is where the reality lay. It's the main course of the meal. Beijing, Shanghai and other cities of international flavor are not accurate representations of China.

A couple of things.

This last year that I have been in China has turned into be much more than I would have ever thought it could have. I would have never thought such an incredible depth of feeling could have been attained. I simply just didn't know. My ignorance was complete and all encompassing before I left the States. That is something I can only recognize now. I have grown and changed. I didn't expect to. I'm not sure what exactly it was I expected. It was a mysterious yearning for things untouched and unknown by my senses. The person that came to China last year has been discarded somewhere between long night train rides and red setting suns.

There is still the mystery. The undeciphered pictographs adorning small business windows. The traditions that my mind cannot grasp. The language that falls on my mostly deaf ears. My heart has been opened and it has been filled with the wonder of a new culture. A new experience that has broadened not only the breadth of my knowledge, but that has also begun to unravel the tightly compacted ball of ignorance that once choked my existence. I didn't realize, living my life back in America, the extreme extent of my blindness. The veil has been at least partly lifted from my eyes as the burden of world awareness has been allowed to slowly seep into my young psyche.

I don't know if the impact would have been as great had I only visited China. It took some time before I was able to digest all that I see and all that I hear, something a mere visit wouldn't have been able to produce. My eyes would have been opened, but only partly. Living amongst the mystery, daily allowing folds of revelation to smooth out. Was I to only have been here a short time, I wouldn't have seen much more than just the skin of the mystery, the surface of a country that hides all that is worthwhile in the meat. That would have left me in the same place I was in before.

This journey has impacted me much more than any lecture given by a proffesor ever could have. It is something I can call my own. I am able to digest and analyze what I am given based on first hand experience. The pages of a book just wouldn't have sufficed. I needed to lose myself in the caverns of Chinese society before I could even attempt to understand. I needed to be shrouded in the darkness of the unknown to find the light.

My wish is that everyone could experience something parallel to this. To leave one's home in search of mystery. To cast off the shackles of ignorance that enjoys such free reign. To be humbled by something you don't understand. To return to the place you left a better person. To be lifted from what you know and placed in an alien environment.

I will take from this experience much more than stories of good food or of the hardships encountered in a Chinese train station with nothing more than a phrasebook as your friend. I will take a sense of accomplishment and eyes that have seen. A heart that has felt, and ears that have heard. I will leave a better man. Let us now praise travel for a moment...or for a lifetime.

Sometime between then and now the sky turned grey. Overcast and gloomy the sun hides and takes a break. I've been awake for too long now and am just as tired as the sun. It's been a long 22 years. I left my house and the sun was working just as hard as I have been, I was going down the street and everyone was going the opposite direction. I swerved to avoid imminent collisions without looking back or seeing all that much. I had to send a fax to a potential job I can't seem to find and everyone stared. My head was down and I kept moving forward with a rythym that was uncanny. My steps weren't as light as they used to be, I must be drained.

The lady didn't like her job, helping me was an extreme burden for her. That's okay, I understand, she'll make it. Documents were passed through vertical bars covered with nickel plating and glances were exchanged. A foreigner? Well, imagine that. She wonders if I like China, thinks about speaking of things not related to the task at hand but doesn't. I'm glad. The fax has been transmitted through wires to an unfamiliar office in Beijing and unfamiliar hands are holding a warm piece paper bearing a photograph for squinting eyes to read and then put aside for a later time. I need the job now. A later time spells disaster. They don't understand, and I am resigned.

The man I hired to bring me back after the fax affair passed the place I told him to go. I yelled and he stopped, shaking his head as I crawled out of the back of his tricycle. He started to smile and so did I. Liang kuai qian? Fine, I need change, don't hurry, I don't want to go back home. Let me count that again real quick just to make sure.

Breathe deep, I need some food. Thank you sir for the lift, I hope your day goes as well as mine should have went. Now I'm stuck in the middle of the road thinking about food that I'm to lazy to get. I walk to the curb and light a smoke. I guess I'll settle for some street food. The little old lady notices me walk her way and she stands up. She doesn't smile and neither do I, but I wonder what I did wrong. Yeah, I want extra oil if you don't mind and make sure you don't burn it. Lemme see here, any new calls? Nope. Damn, she better hurry up, 'cause now I want to go home and be alone again. I can't focus, I don't feel stable, and still my phone is silent.

Ahh...there is my friend. Jiaozi? No, I'm having this to eat, you should have seen me two minutes ago, I would have went with you. Call me tonight? Good, don't forget, I'll be bored and waiting to leave my house once the grey sky turns dark and my tea has dried up. Lemme shake your hand real quick. Soon, I wont be seeing you or the old lady who is cooking my food anymore. We better catch some lunch sometime.

The grey sky spreads and covers us like a blanket. The sun takes a break. And I wait. Tea? Sure. I'll take a cup of that if you don't mind, but first water must be boiled. A phone call would be nice, might alleviate the isolation that has become my permanent roomate. His rent is due, and I'll make sure to charge him extra.

Another empty pack of smokes. How'd that happen? Just another blur in the final countdown to a train ride that ends in the arms of her small frame and an unforgiving city that has surged past the rest of it's brothers. There, I can buy a hamburger, or a book in English.

Today there was a funeral procession fifty feet outside my bedroom window winding it's way down a dirth path. Flutes and other wind instruments were being played in a kind of Wagner death procession tone. The line of people were somber, some of the men smoking cigarettes, noone caring if they wore black. The tone and pace of the music changed and it felt more like a celebration, a celebration of a life lived, or maybe of a death entered. It was not a typical funeral, my mind had not been exposed to this kind of celebration or was it a lament? The music left echoes of voodoo. Those instruments, what were they? The dirt path with garbage piled on either side, and the funeral procession. I stopped walking and watched, although I heard it long before I seen it. I heard it from my house. I looked out and thought it was a performance troupe practiscing for the Spring Festival. A friend informed me otherwise.

That music...it creeped me out. It changed rythyms frequently. At times the sound was like a shrill cry and at others like a slow serenade. I thought I could see someone cry, but there was distance and a crowd. There was no casket, but there was distance and a crowd so maybe I just didn't see it. I left the scene, feeling sorely out of place with my surroundings and I wanted to eat which felt disgusting. Who was it? A mother? A father?

I was back in the neighborhood twenty minutes later and the procession had moved to the street. There were piles of people on the back of trucks. And there was that music. It was a constant, a steady companion to this....ordeal. What was it, why did I feel so detatched. It was the music, the properly composed score that reminded someone of a sour taste yet allowed for a sweet smell to intrude at the same time. The trucks and the sounds moved away as I lit a smoke.

I am often asked by people to give them my reasons for coming to live and work in China. I never fail to hesitate and give them some lame answer to their question. I usually end up telling them them I'm not sure or that I believed China would be a really different place than my home, or that I just wanted the travel experience. All of that is true. However, when I ponder the motivations that compelled me to seek out a means for being able to live in China, I come across deeper meanings than what I can just list off the top of my head. I will attempt to give a  list of the reasons why I chose to come to China in the most articulate way possible. Not just for you, the readers, but also for me. Perhaps the next time I'm asked why I came to China, I'll be able to say more than, "Because I wanted to".

Long before I dreamt of coming to China, I always held a fascination for the country. It wasn't an obsession, as in I didn't constantly think about it the way I did for the year or so before I left, but when I would read a magazine or watch a television program about China, I'd always wish that I could someday visit. The pictures of red cheeked little girls, incredibly dense population and beautiful natural scenery  led me into a healthy desire to see the country. I always felt that China was a bit mysterious. The striking pagodas with their Qing dynasty architecture attracted my whims. Pictures of  Chinese men and women with round grass hats working in rice fields and of beautiful women in traditional dress invoked in me a curiousity of the Orient. I have always been curious about Asia and it's people. Picking up what little I could from TV and books about China I was intrigued. Little children scooping rice in their mouths with chopsticks. Chopsticks to me were something I got to use a couple times a year when we'd go to a Chinese restaurant that was remotely authentic, and it'd take me all night to eat my meal due to my ineptness with chopsticks. I'd hear the sountrack of a movie that featured traditional Chinese music and my mind would be taken away....

My fascination with China culminated about a year before I came to live here. During that year I spent countless hours researching China and looking for ways to visit. I soon began to realize that I wanted to live and work there as well. Much of my spare time was dedicated to this arduous seeking of information. Looking at the images on my computer screen and reading the stories that had been written by people who had been to China filled me even more with the desire to cross the ocean and enter what I would soon find out to be a new world. I guess I can only say that the country, it's people and way of life propelled me to want to see and feel China.

The country was a big reason for me wanting to embark on adventure, but there were also personal reasons at work. I had come to a point in my life where I felt as if I was stagnating. I had developed a craving for life experiences that I felt I just couldn't attain at home, or grasp from the television or glean from words on a page. I wanted to travel. I wanted to travel to China. For some reason, I felt like the more different from my home the country I was that I went to, the better. My life in the States had become a life of daily routine that failed to stimulate my mind in any way, shape or form. I wanted a break from my family and from familiarity. I wanted a change.

China with it's fascinating culture and completely different way of life fit the bill. It had the adventure I was seeking, and I knew that I would gain the life experience I wanted as well. Although I haven't been ready for everything that has come my way, I feel as if I've adjusted moderately well. My foray into China  has deepened to include many personal facets that are *usually* a pleasant surprise.

So, you wanna know why I came to China? To be honest, I don't know.