6:26 am in Belz Family Home

I can't sleep in since my mind is actually telling me it's almost Natlie's bedtime.

I'm sitting on the red couch in my living room. The table is set for breakfast. We'll have lots of relatives over for pancakes in about three hours. The clock ticks steadily. And I'm thanking God that none of the people in my family are six-year-olds and that everyone is a sleepyhead in the morning.

The TV next to me is ten years old. The piano has layers of brown tattered oldies and freshly printed test-runs. The zig-zaggy printed upholstrey of the armchair next to this couch is fading while the seat of it becomes ragged and stringy. My dad's thick maroon Bible sits next to the conc shell I used to always put my ear up to so I could hear the ocean.

Call me nostlagic. I'm just glad I'm home. All the glory of Shanghai could not make me happier than being in a place so familiar and so filled with Jesus.

Little Helper

There are Shou-Wu-Ai-Ee (forgive me for my made up pinyin) and Da-Wu-Ai-Ee in our house - Little Helper and Big Helper, respectively. Da-Wu-Ai-Ee lives with us. She makes breakfast, sleeps with and bathes Natlie, and at night gossips on the phone between segments of her favorite Chinese soap opera.

Little Helper comes every morning to meticulously clean and fold laundry, wash the floor, organize, and scrub bathrooms. Our house always look nice because of her. During her little breaks throughout the day - when I'm home - she'll pull out some English book or ask me to teach her a few words. She's a fast learner.

One day she flipped open her phone to show me a photo of a sweet little girl crouching to stay in view of the camera. It was her daughter. Then a few weeks after I arrived here I realized that all the pictures that Natlie and I drew together sat around or were thrown away completely unappreciated. So the next time I drew a swirl of flowers and dots and serpentine stripes I asked Little Helper to give it to her daughter.

Now we are good friends, and I think part of that is because she realized that I have so few reservations for who I am kind to. I put Natlie and Little Helper's girl in the same boat in my mind. That's refreshing and hopeful to her.

Last Friday Little Helper sat on my bed as I recited vegetable and fruit words with her. She explained in Chinese, "You go home and I am very...(she indicated tears on her cheek with her fingers). I miss you very much." Oh. I ache knowing I probably will never see her again.

the metro

10:45 pm on the metro:

We'll start on the left of the plastic olive green chairs. This first woman had a pink phone with dangling sparkles attached. She was talking very loudly to the person on the other end. Her eyes gleamed with pride all during her bossy conversation. Chinese women are rarely loud and they rarely look like they have power. And they never look like they enjoy their power.

The woman next to her was young. She had one of those message t-shirts on. It was blue and had the big fat letters of "I (heart) LIFE" plastering the entire front. Her black tights and silvery high heels looked uncomfortable. Over the course of twenty minutes the girl brought out her white compact mirror three or four times. She examined her eyes and skin and hair meticulously. Finally she picked up her cellphone and started chatting to someone.

Beside her, with one seat empty between, two saleswomen chatted about their day. The one on the left wore a beautiful cream-colored trench. She covered her mouth when she whispered something to the other. Her hand was cupped Korean style. The friend left after two stops and the other sat with her head up high.

language

I've seen a lot of Chinese. It is the most spectacular language. The dots, strokes and swiggles in their specific order absorb all my attention. The boxy characters, the curvy loops, and the specific step-by-step way of painting out the words hypnotize me when I watch Portia scrawl directions to the subway for the taxi driver.

Look at this one:



It means "splendid" and is pronounced "hua". It's so complex and yet makes its point so clear so quickly.

A well-educated Chinese person knows about 6000 different characters. That's like knowing the design of six thousand snowflakes, along with giving names to each one.

sublime expectancy

i'm not going to rationalize from now on in my posts.

i welcomed this opportunity to come to Chin-O whole-heartedly. now i long for home. i long for my brown wooden dresser with it's drawers and the big mirror that rests on top. i long for my greyish wool sweater i wear on cool mornings. i long for late night thoughtful conversations with my sister as we dose off in our still-bunked beds. i long for my language. i long for conversations at the table long after the meal's done. i long for America this time too - the land of the lispy English accent, soulful music, and free thinking. i long for laughter.

this next week and a half will be well-spent. but then i will go home which is where i want to be.

oh. and i long for college. more than ever now.

after school play

There is a play ground next to Natlie's school. On sunny days which come often now we go out and play in the afternoon when everyone gets out. I chase kids around and they love when I'm "it" because I'm the fastest. We have four or five kids that are regulars. The rest straggle on beside us. Sometimes it's plain old tag, sometimes it's some hopping game, or other times we play a shark game. I never thought I'd play with kids so much.

"Bubblegum, bubblegum in a Dish" has become 'old hat' to me once again.

lunch

We came out of the back exit of of the Forbidden City. Jack, Natlie, and I hop over the shadows the branches of the trees lining the street and sidewalk. People stare at us. We keep playing. People stare because I'm white and I'm walking with a blue-collar Chinese guy and a little Chinese girl. They're so confused.

We skip and jump over lines so we don't break each other's backs. Finally we come to our car. Our Beijing driver is standing next to it. He has a blue suit on and looks nice. He is smoking. I think that's the third cigarette I've seen him smoke today. And I haven't seen him all morning. He opens the door for me and it's hot in the car. But Natlie jumps in on the other side and is ready to play yet another game. Think, Adrienne. Make up another game. I've tapped all my creative juices. I'm out. We end up playing a clapping and snapping game as we ride.

The driver stops and we get out to eat at a sit-down restaurant. The walls are red and it feels Chinese. The waitress pours hot water to drink in our small teacups. Two drivers are sitting with a Chinese girl and a young white woman. This is very strange to others. These are lines no one crosses.

We eat sautéed eggs and tomatoes, lamb, beef, mushrooms, shrimp, cucumbers and carrots. Chopsticks fly across the table. Everyone's is getting satisfied.

Our Beijing driver smiles nicely. His smile sticks out from the rest of his face. He also doesn't have long fingernails which makes me like him much better. His accent is almost gurgly. He tells me, "No English." I try my Chinese on him. It doesn't work.

Natlie starts to cry. Her mouth hurts. She cries louder. We leave the restaurant. The waitress hands me some Barbie stickers to cheer up Natlie. Natlie stops crying and we pile into the little black car again.