China Gray

            I woke up in a bed not my own ; one that stretched beyond the reach of both my arms and legs. After rolling left to right to stretch my tense and aching IT bands, I made the journey to the edge of the bed and finally to my day’s clothes. I slipped on a lightweight, breathable, gray Patagonia shirt and a pair of zip-off khaki pant s. The scent of yesterday’s sweat kissed my nose . I pulled the belt firmly and folded the waistline beneath it. I stepped on his scale, waited for the reading, and stepped off again. 55 kg (121 lbs). I’ve lost almost 10 pounds since coming to China.             The bed, the room, and the scale all belonged to Matt, another Peace Corps Volunteer serving in one of the smallest PC China sites: Longnan ( 陇南 ) in southern Gansu. With a population of 2.5 million and a sparse 250 people per square mile, it’s hidden in a mountain valley and inaccessible by both plane and train. The bus ride was a constant uphill journey. Despite being a two-lane r

One year of teaching in China just came and went with the suddenness of a few congratulatory text messages and nostalgic pictures. The arbitrary mark in my service, while brief, was still notable. I thought back on the past year and enjoyed recognizing all of seen, learned, and experienced. The depth of my foreignness and the breadth of my ignorance of been constant breeding grounds for life lessons. The most important of which was recognizing the hazy borders of the plane on which I stand.             Toward the end of last semester, I took the time to write out a description of my student’s lives. I wrote it as an outsider. I saw so much and understood so little. I had to deduce intentions and explanations according to perceived patterns. Looking back, and with an understanding derived as much from conversation with my students as from those observations, I see the fault lines of my own prejudice—deep canyons that not only form the borders of my world view, but also hold tremendou