China Gray

Hotpot, while originating in southwestern China, Sichuan, it has spread to fill most busy streets in China. The concept is simple; order the ingredients you want to eat, select a broth to cook them in, and then just drop them in the boiling pot in the middle. The pot sits on an electric convection-style stove. The most traditional hotpot is spicy, spicier than I can tolerate. The first time I tried “middle-spicy” hotpot with my students, the majority of them were sweating profusely. They loved the burning sensation and simply kept a handful of napkins nearby to catch falling sweat. Now-a-days, hotpot has spread into the homes. Many Chinese homes keep a portable convection-style stove on hand and a large pot just for this reason. Anyone can stop by the grocery store and pick up a variety of flavor packets. Some prefer to make their own. My favorites are the mushroom broth and the tomato broth. I’ve even had hotpot with Pu’er tea as the broth. When I went down to southern ...

Beauty ages well. The train from Chengdu, where Peace Corps HQ in China is, back to my site in Tianshui, Gansu is a 17-hour journey. After cutting the security line and sprinting to the train I sat down on the bottom of three bunks to catch my breath. I was still in shock I caught the train despite heavy Labor Day holiday traffic. I looked up to an old man in an all-gray wool suit mumbling to the old lady across from him. She seemed to understand his words of mostly vowels and air. The old lady reached toward the ground reiterating that he should remove his shoes before simply pulling his feet out from them. The old man kept grumbling before laying down his head on his mounded blanket and pillow. The old women picked up his legs and placed them on the bed with force and precision that comes only from repetition. As a final touch of endearment, the women took off her coat and flung it across the man’s chest, already slow and steady to the beat of his snoring. I t...

A year and a half into my service as a Peace Corps China volunteer demands a certain amount of reflection. Uncomfortably, I’m finding putting forth the diligence to digest so many conflicting experiences requires more patience than I have to offer. I glance over the troubled days of my first semester, still hot to the touch. I ponder the early days of my growing confidence as a teacher that mark the second semester. And now, more recently, I shudder at the thought of my third semester, pleasant and stable yet still rocking as foreign, western winds carry bombs with burning fuses. For the last five months I’ve had to continuously find way to defuse hot topic after hot topic, each and every one politically sensitive. It was this that most marked my last semester in China. It’s strange because as I left the once United States of America, I had in my mind an expectation that I’d be entering the political realm of China. I thought the political topics of the day would revolve arou...