China Gray

Written  September 15th 2015 amid the afternoon silence from 1 pm to 230 pm everyday as the entire campus takes their afternoon naps or relaxes. It’s the little things that count. If you remember every birthday, without a Facebook, your friends will notice. If every time you take in a favor you send out a card or flowers, your friends will notice. If every time you step out the door and heads turn to survey the slender white fingers that poke out from your sweater, you notice. It’s the little things that count, and they can count for or against you. Just under two weeks ago I moved into my new home in Tianshui, Gansu, China. A humble abode of one bedroom, a kitchen, and a living room with just enough space to work through my yoga. I love my new home, despite any deficiencies I may find in my US-China comparisons.  [I've included a complete tour of my apartment at the end of this blog post.] When I walk down the five flights of stairs from my apartment and st...

Written the morning after the below, September 4th, 2015. After three days of relentless cleaning I transformed my kitchen from a dust lined trash heap into a useable collection of aged appliances and cookware. I dropped most of my 700 rmb move in allowance on redoing my kitchen. Most importantly, I bought a new stainless steel wok.  This morning marked the day I would actually cook in my kitchen. After some serious thought I concluded I would make noodles (since my rice cooker was broken) with carrots and potatoes and an additional dish of cabbage. The carrots and potatoes would be lightly browned and ever so slightly sweetened. The cabbage was to be hit with high heat, salt to soften it (but left with some crisp), and some rice wine vinegar — a Chinese classic. I was so excited since the overwhelming majority of vegetables I had eaten in China were overcooked to my tastes. They always had a texture of no life. The exception to this was my host mom in Chengdu; she was a f...

Written August 18th amid a whirlwind of fast approaching dates. The days do not cry of their own accord. No, I have banged my drums and spread my paint across the toes of mountains I will soon scale. I stand on the brink of a new adventure that is as monstrous as a silent room. The challenges I face are far above me. Their outlines are fuzzy, mixing with clouds and stars. I can not tell what is far and what is distant. I wonder: What is within reach and what is beyond the scope of two years as a volunteer? It was just over a week ago that they called us up, one by one, to dramatically pull from a box a name, below which a school and location was written; “Ben Elmakias” flip page “Gansu Industry Polytechnic College [break] Gansu, Tianshui.” I swooned like a human swirling in a puddle of expectation, prediction, hope, and reality. Reality is the water, the other three are the mud that give it a color worth examining.               ...