Restless Legs

Its August and I feel it in my legs. I am subconsciously antsy, anxious, awaiting the winter. I've felt this before, the sensation is familiar, and in past years even welcome. I'm day dreaming more, drifting out of language class, envisioning snow on each steep pitch I see. More and more often I am replaying different ski runs in my mind, imagining what they would be like in different conditions. A minute ago I was racing down Gondi line, my skis arching big GS turn over fresh, responsive corduroy. Now I'm picking my turns through the trees at Saddleback, dodging the pines in Thrombosis, floating on 14 inches of new snow. The situation changes, but the sport, the spirit, the want stays the same.

Unfortunately for my ski-happy spirit, this new situation has landed me in southern, subtropical China. Turns out there very little snow, although no lack of steep peaks.

In past seasons, I have taken a very American, consumerist approach to quelling the angst: shopping. Usually around this time, from July through September, I'm hunting for new gear. Last year I bought an ill, super warm Sessions jacket and some new Spy goggles. They year before that I invested in a telemark setup. THAT was a blast; I purchased new Black Diamond planks, new G3 Targa bindings, and a pair of used Garmont boots.

The fall that I bought that tele gear, the fall of Junior in college when I was living in the yellow bungalow in Maine, still brewing beer and riding longboards, me and my house mate Andy were stir crazy for snow. It was September, we laid out a white polar fleece blanket, and tried on our gear. There we were, two dude in shorts and tee-shirts, but from the calves down we were skiers. I buckled up the boots and even dropped a few knees. In September. In my living room. The anxiousness got that bad.

Around the same time, on a warm afternoon, we threw on our snow pants, grabbed some beers, and sat around watching ski movies. Yup, we stay classy in Maine.

This season, as far as gear goes, I keep thinking about about the Icelantic (a ski company) Nomads or Scouts, the Full Tilt all-mountain boots (the ones with three different lasts for different conditions), and Marker's Jester bindings, those things look burly. That would be my wish-list for this next season.

So yes, I've been day dreaming, much to the dismay of my language class. I admit, I haven't been all there during some of the sessions. I need a release, another activity. I've been running, but its never been the same as skiing. Basketball is a little better, but it still lacks the necessary qualities. I need to get stoked on something. Don't get me wrong, I am happy here in China, and I am excited to be serving, and I am excited to teach, but there is no STOKE. As my buddy Johnny Tsunami would say, I've got to find the gnar (root word of gnarly). I haven't found my gnar here in China yet, but I think I've got a lead.

Near my site there runs a river, the Maling (or Malinghe) river, through a gorge of the same name. The gorge is known for its beauty, its size, and its international rafting competitions. They do some commercial rafting there, but it looks a lot different from rafting back home (for instance, they pole their way down the river and the customers don't paddle).

Retroactive Post: The Host Family

There is an 8 week span in the blog's history that lacks a post. I was without the internet, and writing wasn't on my mind. This is the first of (hopefully) a series of posts regarding those weeks of Pre-Service Training.

I would be remiss to not include a blog post about my host family. If had a stable connection to blogger for the past eight weeks, there would already be mention of them in my blog, but alas.

Host families are an important aspect of PC PST in China and, as far as I am aware, in other PC countries as well. The home-stay portion of PST allows PCTs to interact more directly with the host country culture, live in a full immersion language environment, and experience the support that only a family can provide. Long story short, host families are super important.

I live with a young host family comprised of Leaf (host mum,) David, (host dad), Aiyi (Leaf's mum, Aiyi means aunt in Chinese), Shushu (leaf's dad, Shushu means uncle), and Tiantian (literal translation: sweet sweet, she is Leaf and David's 11 month old baby girl). The family dynamic is great, they get along, and the household is upbeat and cheerful.

There are many very positive aspects to my host family, such as their concern for my well being, their motivation to show me the best parts of Chengdu, and their understanding of my need to see PCT friends and sometimes be alone. Despite their all around greatness, there is one trait that sticks out in my mind: Shushu's cooking. Shushu and Aiyi used to own a restaurant, but they have since retired and mostly take care of the house and mind Tiantian when David and Leaf are at work. Shushu cooks every meal for us, breakfast lunch and dinner, and he knows how to cook Sichuan dishes. AMAZING.

I'm definitely going to miss this family when I leave. Hopefully I can keep up contact with them while I am site.

Traffic jam on the information superhighway

As you may know my internet situation is, at best, limited. Right now I am sitting in a corner at my host family's house, riding on someone's unprotected wireless signal. God bless them for not using a password.

I've been writing recently and I've got about three posts saved up; one referencing my host family, one regarding my restlessness and seasonal anxiousness for skiing, and the last dealing with the imminent separation of the China 15 Peace Corps group as we head out to our permanent sites across China.

Writing offline has been great because it has thrust me back into the practice of revision and editing. Usually I don't revise, or even edit these posts; I just write them on the blogger website, give them a quick spell check, and send them on their merry way. Because I have been without a solid, ready internet connection, my posts have been sitting on my desktop, open to revistiation, revision, and (thank God) editing. Awesome. So yes, there will be more posts to come, and I think they are some of the best posts I've written. Enjoy.

10,000 peaks and nowhere to go.

Today my site mate and I were lead by our Waiban (Foreign Affairs Officer in the university) to a local located but nationally renowned geological treasure: the 10,000 peak forest. The Chinese characters translate literally to "10,000 peak forest", which make sense, because the attraction is literally tens of thousands of peaks formed by eroded calcium deposits left by (I think) sea water in the (I think) Triassic period. Regardless, the area is beautiful. Imagine a VERY steep, near vertical hill, roughly 500 to 1500 feet tall. Now imagine 10,000 to 20,000 of them. You get the idea.

Don't worry, photos will appear, once I find the cord to connect my camera to the laptop. Promise.

So, anyways, the adventure was great. We got the chance to have lunch in this fantastic local restaurant, known best for its hosting the president, or maybe the party leader, of China back in 2004. After that my site mate, my Waiban, and I walked a scenic road that offered great views of the area. A rain storm hit, but we were picked up by a little tour bus just in time. It was great, but...

But I had to ask I people were allowed to hike or climb in the mountains. I was given a questionable answer, "Why would anyone want to?" To which I asked, "Well, why the hell not?" These types of questions tend to chase each other like a dog and his tail, or a yin and an yang, so I will spare you the play by play. Long story short, I want to hike those hills, and I don't care if no one has done it before me.

Post a comment if you can see/explain/understand the cultural divide here. Gimmee some relativism.

Back on Blogger

Alright, after an 8 week hiatus, I am back to writing. I'm planning on doing some retrospective posts regarding my pre-service training later, but for now I'll pick up with the present.

I've arrived at my site in China, deep in the heart of Guizhou province, which is south of Sichuan province, which is where I have been during my PST. Right now I am on my 1 week site visit, which has thus far been AWESOME, and I will return to Chengdu and my host family on Friday/Saturday.

I left for my site visit last Sunday evening with my site mate and a handful of other PCTs and PCVs stationed in the province. The train from Chengdu to Guiyang, which is the capital of Guizhou, is a 13 or 17 hour expedition, depending on what ticket you book. The PC was nice enough to book us overnight tickets on the new, fast, and (most importantly) AIR CONDITIONED train. Very comfortable, not too cramped. Upon disembarking in Guiyang, my site mate and I were greeted by a University representative and ushered to the bus, which was the next leg of our journey.

In a single word, the bus trip was AMAZING. Guizhou is beautiful, and viewing the country side by bus isn't a bad way to see a lot of area in a short time. We traveled through some beautiful gorges, up and down mountains, through and in between peaks. The country side is like nothing I have seen before. Rice paddies and corn everywhere that is farmable, and sprawling mountains and forests everywhere else. The bus ride was over 5 hours, but well worth it.

My apartment is clean and simple, and I really like the city I have been stationed in. My new flat has a big bedroom, semi-outdoor kitchen, and clean floors (which are becoming dirtier as forget to put on sandals when I come home). The last volunteers that were here left a lot of English reading material as well as lots of teaching materials. My site mate and I are digging through it, mining for the gold and separating the chaff.

So yes, much more to come. I haven't written in a while, and there will be retrospective stories to tell.

Manifest Destiny

After a restless night, a 3:30AM wake up call, a 6AM departure, and cross-continental flight, I've arrived at staging in San Francisco. Unfortunately, I am roughly four hours early, but at least I have a free wi-fi connection and my blog to kill the time.

The morning was rough, mostly because my loneliness and nerves kept me up through the night. I felt like my sleep cycle was just starting as I forced myself to my feet at quarter of four. Too bad, I had business to take care of. The flight was uneventful, although United Airlines charged me $50.00 to check my bags, which is ridiculous. Hopefully (fingers crossed) the PC will throw that back at me.

In more interesting news, I sat next to a young couple from China. We only began talking towards the end of the flight, but I learned that they were working/studying engineering in Massachusetts after having moved from (no joke) Chengdu. Its a little, tiny world out there. They gave me some good tips, and told me the city is beautiful and filled with helpful people. Also, they spoke of an area outside the sity proper that was supposedly as beautiful as Yosemite. I want to find this place, although I don't really remember the title of the park/area. It sounded as if there are two words in its title, and strong "j" sounds began both. Jing Jao? Jiang Je? Ching Joa? I'm not sure.

The last time that I was in California was over 15 years ago for the passing of my Great Grandmother, so I feel that I wasn't able to fully appreciate the expanse of American land that passed 30,000 feet beneath the fuselage. Looking out the windows of the plane was pretty crazy; I'm a sucker for clouds and landscapes. I watched coast turn to farmland, then badlands, the mountains, and finally back to coast. Very cool.

Feeling lonely.

I'm sitting here at the Hilton at Logan Airport in Boston, Massachusetts, and I have never felt this alone. Ever.

Today I said goodbye to my girlfriend, my mum, my step-dad Tim, the house in new Hampshire and the two puppies. It was rough at times, tears mixed with dread and nerves, but it was far more comfortable than the loneliness, the isolation, that I'm sitting in now. I have left those that love me and I won't see them for two years.

I was talking to my brother a minute ago, telling him what I was feeling, and I wanted to compare the current situation with my first moments at college. There are similarities, but this loneliness, this alienation is far more intense, or perhaps more pure. At U.M.F. I was immediately surrounded by other freshmen in a locale that would be my home. Today, I am swimming in a sea of strangers, sitting in a room I may never return to after tomorrow's early morning. There is something very, very strange about this.

And yet, despite the strangeness, despite the nerves and the lurking uncertainty, I am ridiculously excited. This is my adventure. I've worked towards this departure for 15 months and now I am faced with the granting of my wishes. I am very stoked.