Waiting for the train to come

I went on a short train trip yesterday to a nearby city to visit friends. Trains and train stations here kind of fascinate me. They are comfortable and clean nowadays too. Who would have thought the day would come when even small train stations had Starbucks in them?

My blog post title, "Waiting for the train to come" reminds me of a song Russ Taff sings. I wonder if anyone else remembers that song besides me? It's called The River Unbroken. Here is the YouTube version of the song and here are the lyrics. 

Two years ago today

Two years ago today I got on a plane and flew back to America. I knew I had cancer but I didn't know what kind or how severe it was. I didn't know if I'd ever see China or my Chinese friends again. I left my dog behind in China on that day and hoped I would be successfully reunited with her. I remember wondering if I'd make it until Christmas, and now it has been two years. It feels a little surreal. Of course I am very thankful for all that God has done for me. Everything in life seems different now though. There is nothing good about cancer.

Cultural event

The business that invited me to this country (you need an inviter for visa purposes) asked me to attend a charity event today. I was asked to prepare an English poem to read at the event. I had no idea what this event was all about, but of course I would cooperate!

I somehow expected it to be a fundraiser. Don't charities always need money? If you need money, you ask as many people as you can to attend. So I expected 100 people or so. Fifty minimum.

When only 11 people showed up and some of them didn't look old enough to be making much money, I worried. Would I be viewed as a rich foreigner who would donate all I own to make their charity a success? Awkward!

A couple of young ladies were sent to be with me at the event. I wanted to ask them about the purpose of the event, but if I asked, then they might think I was complaining, and they would be embarrassed. So I just sat back quietly and played along.

We all sat at a long table with Chinese tea cups and nuts for snacks. We were inside an exquisitely decorated traditional Chinese tea and furniture shop. 

As it turns out, charity is a bad translation for what this group is all about. The group exists to help preserve Chinese culture through sharing poems, playing traditional Chinese musical instruments, sharing photography, and engaging in other arts. Obviously my English poem is not preserving Chinese culture, but hey, they asked for it, not me!

In attendance were teachers, musicians, photographers, and a TV producer. Three of four of those present read Chinese poems. Three played musical instruments. One guy showed his photographs on a flat-screen TV.

The only man present read a long poem. It must have lasted 6 or 7 minutes. He was speaking dramatically as he read the poem. He was halfway through the poem when his phone rang.

He reached over to turn it off.

Except he didn't turn it off, he answered it and had a conversation in front of all us in the middle of his poem! It would be like if you were at church and in the middle of the sermon the pastor's phone rang, he answered it and had a conversation in front of the entire church. 

The organizer lady looked mortified, not so much for herself, but for fear that their foreign guest (me) would think them crude. I just smiled sweetly as if I hadn't noticed. It makes no difference to me really, except it is a little humorous. It's not her fault. People just do things and you never know what's going to happen. 

I had an enjoyable afternoon, and no one asked me for money. I consider that an overall win!

When it was over, we could stay and talk or we could leave. I asked the two young women with me if it was okay to leave. One of them, age 24, did everything but roll her eyes. She said she was not middle aged and she just wasn't "getting the feeling." Chinese culture means nothing to her. I suppose that's why the group feels the need to exist, to preserve what many care nothing about anymore.

  

Traditional Chinese paint brushes on a stand

Beautiful Chinese chess set

Part of the group; I love the lights

Traditional Chinese music instrument

The organizer

More of the group

Smarty pants dog

She knows I'm taking her picture. She's acting like she's ignoring me, but she is completely engaged in the situation. She plays the game better than anyone I know. She is one smart doggy. This photo was taken at my parents' house, and I ran across it the other day. I love it because -- even though you probably can't see them like I can -- I can see the wheels turning in her brain and it makes me laugh out loud. Ah, she's so hilarious and I love her. Here's to YOU, Mimi!

Daily life

A lady barber cuts hair on the side of the road in north central China. It's common to see sidewalk barbers in China.

The energy-sapping humidity of summer has finally relented and gone away. I couldn't be happier. Now I can get out on my e-bike and explore this beautiful city!

Most of my trips are across town. My physical therapist's office is roughly 12 miles away, and it takes 45-60 minutes to get there by e-bike, depending on whether traffic is bad or ridiculously bad. I have PT once or twice a week. It would be a beautiful drive if I wasn't always having to watch out for the other guy.

The part of town where the Brazilian PT works also is home to most expats in town, so there are American-style grocery stores and American-style restaurants there. (There are also German restaurants, Italian ones, etc.) After PT, I generally go to a grocery store and stock up on enough groceries to fill two reusable tote bags and I carry home groceries on my e-bike. All summer long I couldn't carry home butter, because it would melt, but now I can buy butter too. I don't buy a whole lot of American-style goods though. A can of Campbell's vegetable soup costs over $6. I sometimes buy tortilla chips, pickles, Kraft macaroni and cheese, and canned beans. The stores are not large.

I'm also attending an expat ladies' Bible study in that part of town on Tuesday mornings. It's held in an upstairs coffee shop of a ritzy hotel; the coffee shop is seldom used by others. The expat church is also on that side of town, but even further away. My e-bike can't make it as far as the church, so when I go there I have to go by taxi.

The Tex-Mex restaurant and my hair dresser are over there, as is my regular doctor. I suppose it would make sense to live over there since I go there so much, but I live in an interesting part of town too. My apartment, if in the expat part of town, would cost twice as much, and I would have to downsize and have poor quality living conditions. I get to know the entire city better than most by having to traverse it as I do. I live in the historic district, and it is beautiful.

I'm afraid that when the north winds start to blow, I may not be making as many trips to that part of town. But for now, I'll enjoy it as much as I can. If not for PT, I'd like to explore other directions in town.

Footnote: Pray that I'll be able to get more range of motion in my neck and right arm/shoulder. That's what I go to physical therapy for. My pain level will go down too if I can get these damaged neck and arm muscles stretched out. They were damaged during surgery a year and a half ago, and radiation "cooked" them so they are not normal anymore. Nothing is impossible with God, so I have great expectations for good. My PT is a believer! 

I love Jesus

Today I was on my e-bike, and I passed by an old tired-looking Chinese guy on the sidewalk wearing a white t-shirt that read, "I {heart} Jesus." It had a big red heart on it.

I thought about running over to talk to him, to tell him I love Jesus too.

Then I realized that he probably doesn't know what the English words on his t-shirt even mean. His wife probably found the shirt at a thrift shop, a discarded item left behind by some zealous foreign tourist who visited here.

I didn't go over to talk to him. Frankly, I would have caused a wreck in the e-bike lane if I had tried. But I was glad to see Jesus' name proclaimed even if no one knew what the shirt said but me.