Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Almost Humpty Dumpty

There is a scene in Dracula, where Jonathan Harker takes advantage of his captor's daytime slumber, climbs out the window of a tower, and scales down the castle wall. It was a slow and frightening process, with the threat of death always imminent. He knew however that the alternative was far worse, and so persisted in his dangerous descent. I had several moments of terror whilst reading this, and very sweaty palms by the end. And that was when I was safe in my apartment, in a relatively vampire-free environment. Now imagine this incident really took place, that it took place in the middle of the night rather than midday, and that it happened during a massive windstorm. This is my story...

We took a trip to Beijing last month for our 10 day vacation, and one of the activities on our agenda, really the whole reason we even went to Beijing, was to see a wonder of the world; The Great Wall of China. Now, your average tourist would go to one of the restored sections of the wall, or even a partially restored section so as to make it possible to actually walk on said wall without being enveloped by trees and crumbling stones that threaten to plummet you to your death. I am not your average tourist. And luckily, I am not alone in my insanity. So Liesl (one of the girls in my group) and I loaded up a backpack with provisions. A change of clothes and toothbrush each, some strange nut mixture that vaguely resembled granola, 12 apples, and about twenty water bottles that we had to tie to the outside. It weighed as much as a small elephant, and was no picnic to lug around like our own personal albatross. We were prepared for anything.

Half a day, multiple bus changes, and one ride from some Chinese guy later, we arrived at the base of an un-restored section of the Wild Wall. With every step the excitement mounted. Sure there were signs everywhere warning us that no one was actually allowed on the wall and that trespassers would be punished, but really, was anyone going to actually patrol the wall in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, looking for individuals committing a felony? We didn't think so. Anyhoo, we walked alongside it for a ways until we came across a rickety old ladder that just so happened to be out of sight of the village. We ascended and began the steep, steep hike up the mountainous incline of ancient decay. It was a harrowing journey for us explorers, but we were filled with the spirit of adventure, and the big black holes in the ground leading to nothingness were easily skirted. Our raw finger tips, swollen from the effort of pulling ourselves up the sides of the wall when it was too steep to walk, were just a happy reminder that we were alive and on the fast track to becoming the coolest people we knew.

Around sunset we arrived at the top of the mountain, the highest part of the wall, and could see that just a bit further on the whole wall drops off, and we would be lost in the woods forever. So we decided that this was as good a place as any to set up camp. We ate our granola and some apples, took dozens of pictures, and I did yoga with the sunset on top of the abandoned Great Wall of China. It was true zen.

Then the wind started. As a wind enthusiast, I thought that it was there to make the moment that much better. Until I lost a shoe. It blew right off the wall. Luckily for me, and unluckily for Liesl, she was assaulted with the flying object in her attempt to get a picture from lower ground, and I remained well-shod for the rest of the journey. But that was only the beginning. We layered up with a nice pair of running shorts over our leggings, put socks on our hands, and I had to tie the hood of my very light-weight jacket to my head with a bandanna because the cinch string was missing. But we spooned optimistically in a corner for a few hours, talking and passing the time until we would inevitably fall asleep. Which never happened. Around 11 o'clock we began to seriously fear that the 12 inch barrier would not prevent us being caught up in the whirlwind, and we crawled to the stairwell below us to block the wind. We started telling stories about the coldest we had ever been in our lives, and trying to remember the girl's camp training from years ago on how to treat frostbite. This lasted another two hours. At this point my soul had died, and the sky looked like this:



As we thought over our limited options, we realized that our only hope was to get to lower ground. So we stashed the backpack in the stairwell, prayed we wouldn't start a rock-slide, and ventured out into the threshold to Hell. Holding hands, we made it five feet before it became obvious that we would have to inch down on our bellies. And inch we did. It was a long and arduous process, and we spent four times as long getting down as we took getting up. It was black as pitch outside, and there was a frightening purple glow in the distance coming from who knows where, that threw just the right kind of creepy shadow on... something. There was a large, dark something in our path. Liesl started naming all of the wild animals that probably live in those mountains. I myself was convinced that we were being hunted by the undead. After a few moments of wide-eyed, frozen terror, we held our breath and veered around it as quiet as is humanly possible. My joints had grown stiff from the cold, and it was all I could do not to place my foot wrong, or shift my body unevenly. Add to that, we couldn't hear anything over the wind, were deprived of two of our senses, and each time the wind kicked it up a notch we would have to plaster ourselves to the craggy surface and wait it out before risking further movement. After a solid hour of peril we made it to a little tower between two mountains and hunkered down 'til morning. It was no warmer down there.

When the wind had stopped and the sun had risen, we slowly crept out of our little shelter, faces raw and chapped from the wind, every muscle we didn't know we had sore from shivering so hard, and knees that no longer remembered how to be knees. Back up we went for our stashed bag. It took ten minutes.

After this we decided we'd had enough of the Great Wall and forfeited our plans to see a different section in favour of going back to our hostel and taking a scalding shower and much needed nap. Next time I feel the urge to indulge in a bit of masochism, I believe I'll just shove bamboo shoots under my fingernails and call it good. On the bright side,  I finally have a story to rival one of my dad's. And that is an accomplishment of a lifetime.



                                                   
           Hiding from a patrol helicopter. There was a surprising amount of litter on the Wall. Sad.







                                                                      Adorable Liesl




                                                 The little nook where we ended the night .






Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Getting To Know You

Over the halfway mark, and our broken front door has seemed to temporarily fix our spotty internet connection! I think climbing the fence is a fair trade for a blog post.

On my first day at the Bond English Kindergarten, we were positively swarmed by kiddies giving us cards and hugs and chattering on in rapid Chinese, and I tell you it was love at first sight. I have spent almost every day since (vacations and weekends excluded) falling more and more in love. We arrive at the school pretty early each day and are there to greet the kiddies as they come in. At around 8 o'clock we have opening time where I put the vast store of silly songs, kiddie songs, chants, and lullabies in my brain to good use. Then we feed them breakfast and the first two rotations begin. While the teachers are doing their thing, I am sitting in on classes and filling out evaluations, meeting with native coordinators or ILP directors via Skype, updating documents, and on occasion helping out with lessons and/or teaching for someone. 

About midway through rotations we have outside time, which is a blast. We stuff sweat rags down all of the kid's backs, and begin with a dance that the school requests we teach them. For the past while it has been the Cha Cha Slide, but I have fond memories of standing outside and leading 60 something Chinese Kindergartners in the Macarena. After dancing we limber up with some intense stretching.





And then the games begin. Relay races, tag, breaking out the sand toys when the sand box isn't flooded, catching bugs, and on a very rare, very good day, when I'm super lucky, we play Rabbits Run. On these days I am able to imagine myself in the Princess Academy and live out a childhood dream. In the words of Fred Astaire and Audrey Hepburn, " 'Swonderful."

                                        Catching Beetles                   Hardy Is Too Cool To Look
                                                                                                At The Camera, 
   

When outside time has ended, we all head back into the schoolroom for our last rotation, and then we set out beds for nap-time while the kids are eating lunch. Then we eat our own lunch in the cafeteria and head home for the day. 

I LOVE IT HERE!!!! I find myself smiling and in the best of moods from the moment I walk in the school gates until the moment I leave. If I could live at the kindergarten I would. Sometimes I think my heart might actually explode. Life is good, people. Anna Leonowens knew what she was talking about.




Sunday, May 24, 2015

Orphanage Kiddies

As there were many children I had the privilege of working with, and I can't give specifics, I will just touch on a few of my favorites. (Not that I had favorites with the children, of course.) I have two babies. And by that, I mean children whom I imprinted on. 

The first is a boy around 3 years old. Unlike the majority of the kiddies that I worked with, he has no diagnosis save for being developmentally behind as a result of neglect. When I first arrived, he did nothing but sprawl on the ground and stare at the ceiling, all day. It was kind of funny. He does not talk, or walk, but would just look at us with a dazed expression when we tried to interact with him in any way. Seriously, I'm laughing just thinking about it. I set aside a minimum of thirty minutes a day to spend working with him on... Anything. Getting him to move, to make a noise, to even pay attention to something. The workers called him lazy, but he just didn't care. About anything. I would tickle him, talk to him, hold him. And he would just lay there, sagging out of my lap. Until I started to sing to him. I would sing, and he would listen. He would make eye contact, and I saw him smile. I started to find him toys that would play music, and he would always sway his head back and forth when he heard it. I would start singing from across the room, and he would crawl over to me, just to be near the music. He loved it. Soon, he would squeal every morning when I walked in the door and scoot over to me. He became much more responsive, and would laugh and smile at things. By the time I left, he could totter around (despite his very large, bobble headed cranium that would give anyone balance issues) while holding my hand, though he wouldn't do it for very long before going limp and sliding to the ground. He was my little bugaboo, and I love him so very much.

The other is a little girl who recently turned four. She is about the size of a normal four year old, but is mentally an infant. She can squirm around, but that is about the extent of her independent movement. I would cradle her and spin her around, and she was never more happy than when she was being held. Tickling her back would cause her to laugh uncontrollably, and breathlessly, which was the surest way to make everyone else laugh as well. I fell in love with her laugh. She would sometimes have seizures, and it would become hard to keep holding her when every muscle in her body was tightly clenched, and her back severely arched. She is a bit cross-eyed, and was always smiling. Always. One of my favorite memories is of sitting outside on the swing with her on my lap, laughing at the joy of being outside, and the feeling of the wind. (Of the four months I was there, the kids were allowed out of the orphanage and into the front yard only twice.) She has the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. That little girl is nothing short of precious, and every moment that I had with her was a gift.

There were so many others equally as special and unique, but I have probably said too much as it is. These kids were my life for four months. Just four months, but it was enough to change me. They taught me many things, but the most prominent in my memory is happiness. Despite the circumstances, I have never laughed as much, or played as hard. They taught me to be happy. 

Saturday, March 7, 2015

Ukraine Part Two: Maidan

 It just so happened that our vacation dates for Ukraine aligned perfectly with the one year anniversary of the Ukrainian revolution of Feb. 2014. And Maidan was a mere two minute walk from our hostel. It was one of the most memorable experiences of my life. I was able to walk the streets where it all went down, and witness the hope and patriotism of the Ukrainian people.


This is the building the soldiers stood on top of, shooting down into the crowd. Walking around to the back, we could see how it had been burned.



Walking up the street with the flag and memorial service.





The parade went way up this hill, and the entire thing was lined with piles of flowers. The bridge in the distance was also a place that soldiers were stationed.





These coloured candles were placed in the spot a person had died by their family members. They were everywhere. 





This is a photo taken last year by my friend, Courtney, who had been living there at the time.





A view from the top of the street.




This video may cause motion sickness.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Ukraine Part One: Kyiv


Kiev, Ukraine is a beautiful place that took me mere minutes to fall in love with. I could have stayed forever. Though crossing the border was a royal pain involving many guards and incredulous people questioning my sanity for entering a war zone for sight seeing reasons, it was well worth the effort. 


This is the Lavra, which is a type of monastery consisting of a cluster of cells or caves for hermits. It was like an underground labyrinth with coffins of dead priests everywhere. We were given scarves for our heads, and candles for light before descending into the dark and narrow tomb, where we immediately became lost. It was brilliant. 



Inside the Lavra, where we most definitely were not supposed to take pictures.


And afterwards??? Yes. There were booths selling honeycomb and beeswax candles right outside of the Lavra. It would seem that they keep bees. Dreams can come true.





This was a memorial we walked through to get to Big Momma. Background music courtesy of Courtney, who is the one recording the video above.



Big Momma. It's pretty much their version of the Statue of Liberty. It was amazing.


Kiev Temple, where we spent Saturday afternoon.




St. Michael. One of many cathedrals visited. 



St. Andrew. This was at the top of a very steep and monstrous hill called St. Andrew's descent that we climbed multiple times a day. The hike was beautiful.



Our traditional flower crowns.



My marvelous friend, Courtney, at our favorite restaurant. Ukrainian food is scrumptious, and the tea is even better. We never dined out without ordering a pot of tea.



We also payed a visit to the Lviv Chocolate Factory and walked the cobblestone streets on market day, but I don't have pictures of these events. In short, Kiev is happiness. 

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Crosswalks


100% of the time we need to go somewhere, we are walking. Which is fine, as I enjoy walking quite a bit. But Romania is lacking when it comes to things I am accustomed to. And again, I am fine for the most part. I can live without a dryer, without vegetables at every meal, and without the products and foods from home. I can live without English speaking co-workers, and without tampons. I can even live without my sister here to get my jokes, my references, and to assure me that no, I'm not crazy. Everyone should know who Cary Grant is.

It is very possible, however, that I will not live much longer without crosswalks. We cross a street at least once every five minutes out of the two-three hours we spend walking each day. And there are no crosswalks. Everyone remembers being taught "look both ways before crossing the street"? Yeah, that's not a thing here. You just kind of go for it and hope the cars screech to a stop in enough time. Or swerve around you. It's like this, only without a lucky cricket for protection:


And to think I used to be scared of getting hit in a parking lot...


On a completely unrelated note, here are pictures from our trip to Bucharest:











Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Rise Up

Rise up and find your courage.
Rise up and trust your heart.

Turn your face toward the foe,
And overcome your inner dark.

Though the path be treacherous,
Though the pain be long,

Set your soul on victory
For fate is with the strong.

Vanquish monsters out for blood,
Defeat the hardships in your way,

Swallow all your worries, doubts,
Never fear, be always brave.

Help will come throughout the journey,
When arms are strong and wits are fast.

Hope, and strength, and confidence,
In heroes from the past.