Sunday

A Startling Equation

I am trying to train my mind to think complicated plots and details, because I want to write novels when I grow up. Hence: I'm trying out novel-length ideas right now, even as we speak. Unfortunately, it's hard not to cram everything into the first chapter. And subtlety, an art I admire, is not one of my strong points.

Plus, I keep wondering if I've heard the names I put down in writing before. Names really do matter, but I also don't want everybody wondering about some character I named "George Washington" or something like that. Once, a long time ago, I called a character John Adams, but not knowing much history, wondered where I'd heard it before. I attempted (and never suceeded) to psych up the courage to ask Daddy: "Is there somebody in politics you don't like named John Adams?" Another time, I came up with an Angela Bennet, when an Angela Somethingoranother and a Ruth Bennet were running for some office. Now, I'm wondering. Is the name Meg or Margaret Thatcher a name I should have heard before? In what context? Does it really fit a motherly older woman with health issues who is continually worrying about her nephew who is getting into trouble because of a crazy political scheme he has worked out?

Finally, it's really hard to figure out little everyday details. And I have too much of a liking for conversation. And, again, the subtlety. I might as well shout from the rooftops: "IN MY STORY, SO-AND-SO IS ACTUALLY A TRAITOR!" Dumb. Anyhow, eventually, I hope, with coaching and practice--much practice--I shall end up cranking out some decent "Young Adult" (hello, we're teenagers!) fiction...

But, until then...oh, well. If everything I typed or came up with was automatically published...alas for literature!

Thursday

You can't catch up, Mom

My poor mother! Just the other day she was remarking how we were caught up--we have Balkanarama's latest (the name slips my mind), and also Atwater-Donnelly's beautiful 2005 recording: When Winter Calls.

Now, I shall break to my mother the news that Atwater-Donnelly (plus four or five others, the new group "Jerimoth Hill") has put out another recording. Perhaps she'll cheer up when she hears that there's a very fun sample on the website. And I'm sure she'll cheer up when she finally hears the sample!

Anyway, do yourself a favor and go listen to the sample (and if you want to do the hard-working people who give us the music a favor, you can do what we do: have a running collection of their CDs). It's pretty easy to find once you get to the website.

So, I leave you with that. What did we do on vacation besides almost die? Well, that's a post for another day...

Wednesday

just a profile pic

This is me in Xishuangbanna (a.k.a. Xishuang"banana")

Monday

Adventure--part II

Home seemed to be on the way for our "brave heroine". She, along with her family and a bunch of people bound for Loshan, China, have just entered a plane after waiting in vain for the one they were supposed to be on to get fixed. After at least three hours delay, she is finally on her way home...or is she?

Part II--"Take Care of your Kids!"

I was singing "The Wells Fargo Wagon" from "The Music Man" as we entered the shuttle. I sat down in the seat 14C next to a couple whom I didn't know when we entered the aircraft. I glanced over the safety manual. I've read those since I was eight years old and I have practically memorized them. I watched the safety demonstration with a little interest, then as the plane took off, felt my headache coming back.

I flipped through the China Eastern magazine, looking at the pictures--the words were in Chinese. There was even a small article about Loshan! I can see why. If I may say so, it is the best of both worlds. It is not exactly tropical, but not exactly alpine. I have experienced both on vacation.

Pretty soon, they turned the TV on. The flight had been rather rough, and we were just experiencing turbulence, which always makes me nervous. I imagined we were decreasing altitude, and for a minute, I thought the masks were coming down! Imagine my relief when I discovered it was a TV. We began watching fashion shows. It might be my imagination, but I seemed to recognize the tallest, skinniest, small-headed model from the flight to Beijing! It is indeed possible, I think.

Soon, the TV went back up and I felt a definite decrease in altitude (I can feel these things). We were told we were descending to Loshan, and to fasten our seatbelts, put up our traytables, and put up our seats. Quickly, I and the couple beside me complied with the commands. I elt my head and decided it would be nice to be home.

The next minute, I felt like it would be nice to be on the ground, safe and sound--in Timbuctoo if that was the need!

The plane experienced a bit of turbulence. I'm used to that. It happens all the time. I saw with excitement hills that looked vaguely familiar. I saw a city and tried to decide if it was Loshan. The man next to me said something about Yun "Beehive", which is about an hour and a half from Loshan by car. Oh, well. I was coming home!

Wait a moment, I thought with a touch of horror and a lot of bewilderment, isn't this too fast? Daddy says I need to trust people more, but this was beyond that. There was only one I could trust at this point, and when that happens it's really frightening. It must have been scarier for the rest on board. The couple next to me clasped hands as we dipped, rose a bit again, then started descending faster and faster, bouncing about. The intercom crackled on. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are experiencing turbulence. Please remain seated and take care of your kids!" The man next to me didn't have any kids, at least not right with him. Instead, he grabbed a barf bag. His wife or girlfriend giggled nervously.

I gripped the edge of my armrest in panic. More than anything, I wanted the danger to disappear or the end (if indeed that was what would happen to us) to come quickly. Skimming the edge of mountains in a plane full of shrieking passengers is not my idea of a good time. Shrieking and nervous giggles added to the confusion. No longer were the mountains invitingly green and familiar. Now they were evilly close, evilly rocky. I must admit, I was hoping one petty hope. I hoped that if the guy had to use the barf bag, he would not barf all over me or his girlfriend or himself. I was actually hoping he wouldn't barf. I was also thinking, "Barf bag! I'll be happy if I ever barf again!"

Slowly, we rose and turned. I wondered what came next. Soon the intercom crackled on. All I caught was "Kunming Gi chan" and "Loshan Gi chan". Also, I heard the communal shrieks turn to. "Oooohhhhhh!" Then the announcement was made in English. "We're going back to Kunming".

The couple on my left fell asleep on each other, still clutching each other's hands and the barf bag.

Saturday

Adventure--part I

Well, guys, I'm very glad to be alive. And this is why. I think I can tell this in three parts. Here is the first.

Part I--A Delay

I was crying. We had just said goodbye to the team for the second-to-the-last time. In April, we'll say goodbye again, and then...that's it. So I was sobbing into my handkerchief in the Kunming airport. I would remember how Katrina teaches me a little Chinese...how much fun Rachel is...Aunt Laney's sweet concern for my cough...etc. (Just because I haven't mentioned somebody just means I can't exactly put into words what I will miss). And I was trying to eat an expensive meal of fried rice chock full of la jiao and pickled vegetables. It tasted terrible, and I had ten minutes to stuff as much as I could into an uncooperative stomach. I managed to do it some small justice, but I was still crying as we hurried away from the cafe at 2:00 sharp. We'd already checked our baggage, but we needed to go through security before our flight left at 2:50 PM.

We hustled through security, waiting impatiently as the man checked our boarding passes and passports. He looked at the picture of the frowning girl in a blue checked short-sleeved shirt and her hair pulled back in a half-ponytail. He found enough resemblance in her face to the acne-spotted, tear-streaked face in front of him, and let me pass. I pulled off my purse, handkerchief, jacket, and camera and shoved them into the bin before passing through the security check. Soon we were heading down the familiar passageway down to the exact same waiting hall our flight to Xishuangbanna with the whole team had waited at. Down the exact same gate we would go, at the appointed time, to fly...alone.

I was heartsick. Time and again my blue eyes filled with tears, and my glasses smudged. I forced myself to eat a chocolate muffin, bought for an exorbitant price at a small airport commodity and gift shop. 2:30 PM. When would we begin boarding?

My head was starting to hurt as it reached 3:00. I looked around, trying to find some information in Chinese and Chinglish about the flight to a small city that should have left ten minutes ago. Nothing. Then, to my annoyance and concern, a woman shouted something into a microphone. My Chinese is very bad...(all right. Nonexistent!) and I couldn't understand what she said, but I heard our city's name mentioned...numerous times.

Soon, I heard the "doo-doo" and a woman's voice crackled onto the intercom. "Ching wang Loshan [For purposes of storytelling I've made up a name for our city] duh li cuh ching cho leh"...or something like that. I knew she wasn't telling us to board because she continued: "wo men..." that means "we" and it precedes every delay and cancellation message I've heard there. Then she repeated in English. "Ladies and Gentlemen. May I have your attention, please? We regret to announce that flight MU1167 to Loshan cannot leave on schedule. Due to..." I couldn't make out what she said, "...would you please wait for further information? Thank you. Ching wang Loshan..."

What is it? I thought, frustrated. Soon, they posted a noticeboard in English and Chinese that announced that there were mechanical difficulties and the flight would leave on "no time". Which, in my experience, is Chinglish for "we don't know and please don't bug us about it."

A few minutes later, they wheeled in a library cart filled with boxes. A man started shouting "Loshan...blah blah blah blah blah," into his megaphone, and immediately our fellow-passengers began crowding 'round him and the boxes. In a minute, I could see why. They came back with cans of coconut juice. I was so thirsty and really wanted something besides water to drink. Plus, the day before I had enjoyed a fresh coconut with Aunt Laney and knew what it was like to drink. My sister and I felt the same way, so we showed the man our boarding passes, as everyone else was doing, and came back with a tall cool (not cold, but not lukewarm, either) can of juice each. I opened mine and took a sip. Obviously, there was sugar and coloring added, but it had the same wonderful taste. I settled myself down to read some critical notes on Jane Eyre while my headache wonderfully disappeared.

Next to us, there was a flight to Beijing boarding. To my astonishment, I noticed a plethora of tall skinny lao wai women dressed in the height of fashion with their faces made up. A lot of them had their hair bleached or dyed. They seemed to be from European nations, but I caught an American accent on one of them. Fashion show? Some of these women looked half-starved! More and more flocked on. Now, expatriates who live and work in China, or even just casual tourists, have a "look" to them. They're dressed a variety of ways...they speak Chinese...they don't wear a ton of makeup...we decided that these women were definitely fashion show material. I looked with astonishment at one whose head was somewhat short and skinny, with bleached hair, a short torso, and long legs. And skinnier than Katrina, who to my mind is plenty tall and plenty thin. I think Katrina was shorter than some of these women.

After they stopped flocking to their flight to Beijing, there was nothing else much to see. Our flight, they told us, would leave about 17:50. Finally, another gate opened, and our flight was announced. It was 17:30. We crowded into a shuttle and were bussed out to another plane. I'd seen a plane at our gate getting one of its under-wing engines fixed, so I was glad it was a different plane.

Finally we're on our way, I thought. Now nothing can go wrong.

Nothing?!

Sunday

Ugh

An expatriate's life is a lonely one. Micha and Kiana (and their parents) are moving to Kunming in March. I'm going to miss them. Hopefully I'll be able to spend time with some foreigner.

On a lighter note, we are heading to Dali and then Xishuangbanna this Spring Festival. It sounds like wonderful fun. I dreamt we were in Xishuangbanna and found this Irish store owned by this Irish guy. That was really weird, especially as he was charging me for this hairpiece and first he types in what it is, then he typed in what was the design and what was the color. It all made this equation. Oh, well. I was just dreaming.

Haloscan

Guys--

I've just (re)installed HaloScan on my blog. It's not showing up. Is it showing up for you? If you read this and you see a link to comment at, please comment. Thank you!