As I sit in my bed, curled up beneath far too few blankets, attempting to escape the bitter Dayao cold, it is hard to keep my eyes off of the clock as it ticks down the last few hours of 2014. Outside, Yi minority music floats into the air, dozens of people dancing in a circle to its screechy rhythm and tales of life in the rice paddies. Occasionally, the sound of firecrackers overwhelms the music, though I am entirely unsure if these are in celebration of the New Year, or simply the ‘common’ variety of firecrackers that explode several times a day, marking some sort of new beginning in the life of a store or family. Dogs howl in the distance, scavenging for leftover food in the alleys that housed this morning’s market. Neon lights blaze at the bottom of our hill, displaying the name of a hotel in bright, ever-changing colors that light up the night sky alongside the moon and stars. Yet, despite it all, our little town of 17,000 seems calm, quiet, and sleepy, exactly as it does every night. The world outside seems to be paying little attention to the fact that as the minutes pass by, one of the most monumental years in my life is coming to a close.
Today felt like any other day, though I certainly spent the afternoon excited that I can sleep-in for the next three days. I hardly gave any thought to the fact that it was New Year’s Eve, save the five minutes I spent in each class teaching “Happy New Year,” and “See you next year,” and showing videos of New Year celebrations around the world. Yet tonight, as I was sitting in my neighbors’ room eating a delicious dinner and watching the CCTV New Year’s program flicker by on the small TV, something ‘clicked.’ This ‘click’ was prompted by my neighbor introducing me to her friend, who was also joining us for the meal. “This is Bao Laoshi,” she said. “If you speak Mandarin, she’ll understand everything you say. If you speak dialect, she’ll understand about half.” I quickly refuted her statement, saying that I would probably understand about half of what she said in Mandarin and nothing in dialect, but as we ate, I was hyper-aware of our conversations. Sure enough, my neighbor was more-or-less correct, and I was understanding far more than I had ever thought possible. When I first came to Dayao, I couldn’t understand a single word that the grandma who lives next door muttered, as she is only able to speak in the sing-song dialect of our town. Now, I was able to gather bits and pieces, and even respond to most everything she said. I was able to keep up in every conversation with the mother and her friend. Even the food, so spicy I could barely stomach it when I first came to Dayao, seemed delicious, and, dare I say, mild. I still have a long way to go. Mandarin will continue to be an uphill battle, a language that I likely will never fully master. Yet, stepping back, I must say, it is incredible how big a difference six months can make.
Today felt like any other day, though I certainly spent the afternoon excited that I can sleep-in for the next three days. I hardly gave any thought to the fact that it was New Year’s Eve, save the five minutes I spent in each class teaching “Happy New Year,” and “See you next year,” and showing videos of New Year celebrations around the world. Yet tonight, as I was sitting in my neighbors’ room eating a delicious dinner and watching the CCTV New Year’s program flicker by on the small TV, something ‘clicked.’ This ‘click’ was prompted by my neighbor introducing me to her friend, who was also joining us for the meal. “This is Bao Laoshi,” she said. “If you speak Mandarin, she’ll understand everything you say. If you speak dialect, she’ll understand about half.” I quickly refuted her statement, saying that I would probably understand about half of what she said in Mandarin and nothing in dialect, but as we ate, I was hyper-aware of our conversations. Sure enough, my neighbor was more-or-less correct, and I was understanding far more than I had ever thought possible. When I first came to Dayao, I couldn’t understand a single word that the grandma who lives next door muttered, as she is only able to speak in the sing-song dialect of our town. Now, I was able to gather bits and pieces, and even respond to most everything she said. I was able to keep up in every conversation with the mother and her friend. Even the food, so spicy I could barely stomach it when I first came to Dayao, seemed delicious, and, dare I say, mild. I still have a long way to go. Mandarin will continue to be an uphill battle, a language that I likely will never fully master. Yet, stepping back, I must say, it is incredible how big a difference six months can make.
Almost six months ago, I got off a bus in Dayao and headed to Minzu Middle School, entirely unsure of what I had just gotten myself into. I didn’t know a soul when I walked up to the school gates, carrying all my belongings on my back and praying that I was in the correct place. Just yesterday, we were invited back to Minzu for dinner with our principal and several other teachers. Though the school looked completely different from the outside (construction is rampant, here!) walking through the school was surreal. Six months ago, this place was large, scary, and exciting. Now, it seemed small, with every inch of land causing an ocean of memories to come flooding back. Despite the hundreds of students milling around, the campus seemed empty, too, without the other TFC fellows there laughing, telling stories, and stressing about tomorrow’s classes. There truly is no greater reminder of the wonderful people you’ve met throughout an adventure than going back to where it all started.
The same could be said for Dayao as a whole. Every day, the town is beginning to feel more like home, and six months living here feels at once like a wink and a lifetime. It is nearly impossible to grasp the fact that in three-and-a-half weeks we will be finished with our first semester and boarding a plane back to the U.S.A. We are nearly one-quarter of the way through our two years. One-Quarter. Where did the time go?
The past six months have been an emotional rollercoaster to say the least. Yet, despite the challenges of acclimating to an entirely new way of life, the good far outweighs the bad. There must have been twelve wonderful, amazing, exciting things that have happened for each struggle. From classes that managed to be productive and engaging, to extravagant feasts in meager villages, to hundreds of new friends, both pint-sized and adult, the excitement seems to never end. Over the past six months, I traveled, learned to cook (kind-of), became a better teacher, and even picked up a few phrases of the local dialect. It truly has been an exceptional year, with six wonderful months at home teaching preschool to the six adventurous months here in Yunnan.
The same could be said for Dayao as a whole. Every day, the town is beginning to feel more like home, and six months living here feels at once like a wink and a lifetime. It is nearly impossible to grasp the fact that in three-and-a-half weeks we will be finished with our first semester and boarding a plane back to the U.S.A. We are nearly one-quarter of the way through our two years. One-Quarter. Where did the time go?
The past six months have been an emotional rollercoaster to say the least. Yet, despite the challenges of acclimating to an entirely new way of life, the good far outweighs the bad. There must have been twelve wonderful, amazing, exciting things that have happened for each struggle. From classes that managed to be productive and engaging, to extravagant feasts in meager villages, to hundreds of new friends, both pint-sized and adult, the excitement seems to never end. Over the past six months, I traveled, learned to cook (kind-of), became a better teacher, and even picked up a few phrases of the local dialect. It truly has been an exceptional year, with six wonderful months at home teaching preschool to the six adventurous months here in Yunnan.
I think, though, no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to sum up the experiences of the past six months as well as one of my third graders, Cara. As I left class today, she slipped a card in my bag, decorated with smiley faces and glittery apple stickers. Inside, her note said: “When you first came, my class was really naughty. We didn’t listen, and maybe you didn’t know what to do, and I don’t know if you knew how to understand what we were saying. I’m sorry we were like that. Now, we’re much, much better, you’re much, much better, and I think that by the end of next semester, together we’ll be exceptional.”
I think so too, Cara.
Here’s to another wonderful, adventurous, exciting, surprising year in 2015.
新年快乐!
I think so too, Cara.
Here’s to another wonderful, adventurous, exciting, surprising year in 2015.
新年快乐!