A Quick Note from Olivia

A Quick Note From Olivia

SIAS University

Henan Province, China

Winter 2013

 Here's a quick note from Olivia, my former Chinese student.  I wonder what it says.

Greetings，My dragon lady.

以下信息是在您离线时发送的。

Tea Merchant

 Tea Merchant

Henan Province, China

November 2015

This woman sold this tea drink from her cart on the street.  It was dreadful, dreadful, dreadful.  There were a lot of ingredients in this beverage and most of the things added were unidentifiable to me.  I can usually stomach anything.  But I took one sip of this drink and I wanted to spit it out.  I didn't because the woman was standing right next to me and anxious to seek my approval.  I knocked, swallowed and moved on.  As soon as she was out of my sight, I tossed my cup as quickly as possible.  It was dreadful.

Merry Christmas From Carina

Merry Christmas From Carina

SIAS University

Henan Province, China

December 2013

I taught in China in 2012 and just loved, loved, loved my students.  I taught leadership skills to college women and they were wonderful.  And once I left, they went out of their way to remember me, my holidays, our friendship.  I was so lucky to have this experience.

 Hi, Bredget

How are you? 

Merry Christmas!!!

This is my last Christmas in SIAS, sitting in front of my computer, I start recalling all the things I have done and all the people I have met, full of gratitude.  Miss you~ What have you been busy with all the time?

we haven's met for a long long time, to make sure you remeber me, I attach three recent photoes. Haha, I have my hair cut. 
Carina

100 Students

100 Students

A High School in China

Henan Province, China

Spring 2012

I visited this school one afternoon in the spring. Because I am American and speak English, I was treated to a celebrity status.  I was allowed to interrupt class and meet with his students. 

This teacher has 100 high school students in his classroom. His students sit amongst all of these books and papers which are shared by another class of 100 students. The students all live at the school and go home for holidays at the wimp of the school administration.  Sometimes the students go to school for six days in a row or 15 days in a row or a month.  And then they have a break and they scatter to all corners of the province.

To read more stories, check out:   bkmemoirs.blogspot.com

 or  bkmemoirs.wordpress.com

Hong Kong- 1994

Hong Kong

April 1994

Tonight we sail in to Hong Kong, a city of allure and conflicting identity. In 1994 it is still under British rule but will return to China in just a few months.  This city of capitalism and greed and overconsumption is going home again. But it can it go back to communism?  Or is it too successful, too worldly, too commercial?  Those are the questions on everybody’s mind as we sailed into this magnificent harbor.

But that isn’t on my mind. I have only one thought in mind. I want to take the trolley up to Victoria Hill. My mother instructed me to go there.  She and my father went there just after China re-opened its doors to Americans in the late 80’s.  My grandparents visited this spot sometime in the 60s. So now I will be the third generation to explore this site on the other side of my world.

My grandparents took a long, arduous boat ride to Asia in the 1960s.  I wonder how different this world is now. When they traveled to Hong Kong, few Americans made this trip.   They talked of their trip to Asia with such fondness that it seemed to capture my wonder lust. When my parents went to China in 1986, it was a trip of a lifetime for them. My mother nagged me for years to go to China.  She told me I would love it.  And she was right.  I did love China.  But Hong Kong was not China to me.  Hong Kong was New York City but with more Chinese restaurants.

A cable car takes me up a mountain to a circular walkway which leads me to stores and restaurants and souvenir kiosks. But more than that, it offers a 360° view of this magnificent, bustling metropolis.  It’s tall buildings, crowded streets, neon lights, sounds and smells resemble cities such as New York or London or Chicago. From time to time, I have to remind myself that I just left China and all of its poverty.

I go to a camera shop.  I dropped my camera a few days ago and now the shutter isn’t working. I don’t want an expensive camera so I ask the clerk to show me something on the low end. He reaches for a box and slams it on the counter for me to inspect.

“Do you have any others.  This one isn’t quite right,” I tell him.

“We’re busy. Tell me what you want and pay for it.  But I don’t have time to show you all of these cameras,” he tells me with a tone of annoyance.

I look around.  There isn’t another customer in the store. Two other clerks are standing, staring in to space. But this clerk is put-out by my urge to do some comparative shopping. It is right then and there that I decide to leave his shop, without a new camera.  But I commit to come back in a few years to see how Hong Kong fairs under Chinese rule.

More Names

More Names

Sias University

Henan Province, china

November 2015

I’m back in China and working with students at Sias University.  A in the past, all of them have American names, not because they want an American name but it helps us.  We can’t pronounce their Chinese names,  we tend to butcher the pronunciation.  And we cant remember these names. So they accommodate us and take on names that we can say.

Most of the students take on a name given to them by their English Language teacher.  But others have heard something that catches their attention so they adopt that name. In my class I have a Summer Cool, Doki, Jersey, Monday, Danae, Karry, Eiffel, Baby, Beira, Caia, Fish, Lavani, Lemon,, Skey, Maroon, and Cheyenne. 

Poverty in China

Standing on a corner in Henan Province, China I am watching an old woman collect plastic bottles from pedestrians. She moves laboriously as she grabs the bottle and shovels it in her torn bag. I quickly took her picture and in the process, caught her attention. She came over and said something in a loud voice.  I thought she was annoyed with me.  But my translator says she wanted to tell me that I come from “a wonderful country”.  A long time ago, she met an American and he was polite to her so she thinks we are all polite.  She stared at me a little bit, checked me up and down, laughed to herself and then went back to her task.   She gets 1 Yuan for every 10 bottles she collects.  So she gets 10 Yuan for every 100 bottles and that is about $1.75.  She told me she collects about 30 bottles a day. So she makes about 50 cents a day.  She is 80 and this is her daily income.  The government sends her 10 Yuan a month . It's it for her total income.  She and millions of other people in this country live at this level of poverty.

Treating Depression in China

Treating Depression In China

Sias University
Henan Province, China
March 13, 2012

Today, I had to give a presentation to my students about depression.  There were maybe 300 students in the audience and it was too large a crowd to talk about such a sensitive topic.  Most of them really weren't interested in the topic but the Prevention Center is seeing more evidence of it. And there was a thought that a presentation on the topic by an American would be better received.

When it came time to answer questions, the students were slow to ask me anything.  The language barrier is always tough and the sensitivity of the topic also limited any interaction.  But then one student nervously raised her hand.  She needed some clarification about what I had said.  Sometimes she feels sad, lonely and confused.  Did I think she suffered from depression? I told the student that if she thought she was depressed, she should discuss this matter with her family doctor.  The student thanked me for my advice, nodded and then politely sat down. And then another student raised her hand, “In America, in your country, does everyone have a family doctor?” she wanted to know.  And then there was an undercurrent of discussion about the question.  And it dawned on me that they didn’t know what a family doctor was.

I had a professional counselor from the University Prevention Center with me who informed me that none of them had a family doctor.  None of them go for regular physical exams.  If they need medical help, they go to the hospital and wait in line and maybe they get help.  The man from the Prevention Center then told the students that they should go to the psychiatric hospital if they thought they suffered from depression.  The hospital is about 1 ½ hours away from the university.  He thought it was slightly better than the local hospital.  Then he told them that they probably wouldn’t get medicine there either because it just wasn’t accessible in China.  Finally, he told them that the most viable solution for any of these college students who may suffer from depression was to come to the prevention center and get some help from college students who have been trained to be peer counselors.

Accepting Gifts- China 2012

Accepting Gifts
SIAS University
Henan Province, China
Spring 2012


The phone rings.  It is  one of my students. Usually, I can understand her accent but something is off in our communication today. I can’t understand her and she doesn’t understand me. After a few minutes I am able to determine that she wants to come over to talk to me, immediately. I tell her I have an appointment with another student in a few minutes and that I will call her when we finish and then she can come over.

“Ok, ok, just one thing please, what is your room number?” And then she hangs up. Two minutes later she is at my door, handing me a large grapefruit. She fights back near tears and desperately whispers that she has to talk to me.

We sit down and she tells me that her father died last year. So her friends introduced her to a boy who lost his mother recently. And now the boy wants her to be his girlfriend and she doesn’t want a boyfriend. To make matters worse, this afternoon he  gave her a gift: a large grapefruit and she accepted it which means she is interested in him. She didn’t want to take it because she doesn’t want a boyfriend. But she didn’t want to hurt his feelings because his mother just died and she is afraid of him. He is too aggressive for her and he told her that they should date while they are in college and if things don’t work out after she graduates from college, they could break up.

She feels out of control. Now she doesn’t know what to do and to make matters worse, she is lugging around this huge grapefruit and she just wants to get rid of it as the first step in getting rid of him.

“I cannot take it back to my dorm room”, she shamefully tells me. She doesn’t want anyone to see that she accepted a gift from a boy. So I have the grapefruit now. And I am too jaded from my long experience with high school students to comprehend the simplicity of her dilemma. She is trembling with fear and regret for taking the grapefruit. She has overstepped a cultural line that I don’t fully understand.

Tea Bitches- Parts I, II and III

Beijing, China

February 2012

The Tea Bitches: Part I

 Leaving the walls of the Forbidden City, I was approached by two women in their late thirties. 

 "Hello, Hello, You speak English, I speak Chinese.  Ha, ha, we walk with you and practice our English." She is so cheery and pleasant.

When I am in Asia, this is a request that is made of me a hundred times over.  I never say no but it is tiring to be interviewed by these people.  And it is equally hard to be polite when they distract me from my original plans.  So these two women, Jen and Tan, tagged along and asked me the same damn questions I am always asked. “You from America? You have husband? You have children?  Where your family?"

After about a half hour, Jen, asked me if I wanted to join them for a cup of tea, "It very cold today. Tea hot, good for you.  Good for you digestive system." It was cold and I was tired so I said yes and off we went to a nearby tea house. Jen seemed to know everyone in the place and they seemed to know her. We got a private room and Jen asked me what kind of tea I liked.  I asked to look at a menu and reached for the one on the table but Jen grabbed the menu and abruptly said, "No, this not ours.  This something different." She handed me a different menu and suggested that we try a variety of teas.  So a waitress in her 20s can in and poured us six different cups of tea and all of them were great.

Then the waitress came in and mentioned something about my credit card and handed me the bill.  I was a little confused but noticed that the second woman, Tan, looked away, almost in shame and then I knew something was up.  I looked at the bill and it was over $300.  Jen told me I could put this bill on my credit card.  I protested and said that this was outrageous but then Jen pulled out that original menu and I saw that all of the prices were grossly inflated. The three of them worked in unison on this scheme and I realized I was not going to get out without paying some sort of hefty price.  Then I heard the gurgle of the boiling tea pot.  Jen was holding a pot of hot water, standing right beside me.  I didn't think she would throw it on me.  But then I also didn't think she would try to take me for my money.  So I just angrily decided to cut my losses and get out unhurt.  There were three of them.  Now, they were all talking to each other only in Chinese and the waitress was growing impatient.

"I don't have my credit card with me.  I don't have enough money to pay for this." I tell them without confidence. "That OK", Jen says, "we pay half and you pay half.  You pay more because you college professor and we just lowly kindergarten teachers".  So they forked over about a third of the cost.  I paid the equivalent of about $200 and we quickly left after that.  Once outside, Jen asked if there was anywhere I wanted to go next.  I told her I had to leave right away; I wanted to get away from her.  She seemed surprised, but said goodbye.  I went back to my hotel, seething with anger.  When I was in the midst of the confrontation at the tea house, I just thought that I had to get out unhurt.  But now that I was away from them and safe, I was so angry with them and with myself.  How did I let this situation get so out of hand?  And when I reflect back, was I being cowardly or prudent?

The Tea Bitches: Part II

I was up all night, so angry that I couldn't sleep.  So I decided that I would go to the police station in the morning and file a complaint.  I was not going to leave Beijing until some sort of justice had been served.

I was up, bright and early by 7AM.  It was till a little dark outside but I didn't care. I went down to the front desk and asked the staff member if she would call the police for me.

"No, I can’t" she tells me.

"Why not?"

“I don't know the number".

"Can't we look it up?"

 "I don't know how to do that"

"Well, we can look it up on the Internet," I suggested with a little tone.

"No, the Internet is broken for three days now."

"No it isn't. I used it last night and your system is on right now.  Can’t you look up the number for me?"  I am determined that she is going to help me.

"No, the police will do nothing about it.  It happens all the time.  Last week a lady lost $500.  Police can’t do anything because they didn't see it."

Finally, she relented and drew a map of where she thought the local police station is so I set out on my own to find the police.  But that was a wasted effort because I found nothing that remotely resembled a police station.  So I came back to my hotel in defeat but more determined that the staff woman was going to help me.

I implored her to help me but she was unmoving in her steadfast position that the police would do nothing. 

"Get your manager," I demanded. 

So she walked to the back room. When she returned, she told me that the manager was not going to come out because the police can do nothing.  Now I was furious.  In my loud voice, so that the manger could hear, I told her that she had a responsibility to help her guests and she should not he harboring criminals.   Then the manger appeared.  She said they had a night watchman who helped out the lady who lost the $500.  He wrote something on a piece of paper and told the woman to take it back to the shop and she got half of her money back.  The manager called the night watchman at home and he dictated something to her. She wrote it down, told me to go to the tea house right away and see if I could get some of my money back.  I asked her twice what was written on the note but both times, she just ignored my question.

So with note in hand, I marched off to the tea house with anger and determination.  As I opened the door I was greeted by a pleasant young woman and I immediately stepped in to my crazy mood.  I showed her the note and yelled that I demanded all of my money back.  She jumped in fear and I felt empowered.  She immediately called her boss and as she was talking to this woman, I was yelling in the background, "Tell her I am not leaving until I get my money."  I was immediately offered half of what I paid yesterday.  "No," I barked back loudly, “I am not leaving until I get all of it."

Just then he door opens up and in walks the waitress from yesterday.  She begins to greet me but then she realizes who I am.  Her coworkers call to her in Chinese to give her a heads up that a crazed lady is in their midst. She quickly throws out an offer for a 75% return on my money.

"No, I want it all.  I have already called the police and I called the US Embassy and I filed out a report on you."  That seemed to get her attention. "You no go to the police for this."

Then I noticed a police officer outside so I ran to get him.   He directed me to go to Tiananmen Square to get police help.  I came back in a police car and three police officers and I left with all of my money.

Tea Bitches: PART III

It is several days later and I am now comfortable walking about Beijing without getting lost.  Things are looking familiar to me.  I am beginning to recognize some of the neighbors.   I am now returning to my hotel at dusk.  It is really cold and windy.  Everyone is bundled up.  I notice a woman waving to me.  She is wearing a big hat and scarf so I don’t recognize her.  But I wave back.

As I get closer I hear, “Hello, remember me.  I Jenny”, she says so cheerfully, so full of goodwill.

“Jenny, Jenny”, I think, “who is jenny”.  Then I get a good look at her.  She is the tea bitch, the kindergarten teacher who took me to the tea house a few days ago. She has tracked me down and now she is standing right in front of me, happy as can be to see me, acting as if long lost friends have reunited.

Anger rages through me and I have an urge to punch her.  But I don’t.  I am too stunned to see her and I am shocked by her audacity to speak to me with such a pleasant tone.

“Hello. How you.  Hey, we no get our money back at tea house”.  She says and then points to her friend, Tan, who sheepishly nods in agreement.

 “You help us?” she asks with a tone of sincerity, as if now we were comrades against the immortality of the waitresses at the tea house.

“What”, I shout in complete astonishment.

“Yea, they say you take all the money.  They say we get the money from you. We give lot of money but they not give it back. Can we have money”?

My anger starts on my toes and run through every pore in my body.  I am trembling in so anger that I think I am going to throw up. “Are you fucking kidding me?  Get the fuck away from me you thieves.  Fuck you.” I am shouting as loud as I can and the two of them jump back in fear.  They huddle together.

“We need our money.  We have no money”, she pleads with a sad voice of desperation.

“Get the fuck away from me.  Who the hell do you think you are? Get the fuck away from me”, I yell with great confidence and satisfaction.

People are passing us and watching.  No one stops or tries to establish eye contact. But everyone now walks backwards to watch our interactions.

I take a few steps towards the two of them who have now become one big lump of huddled, trembling cowards.  I point at them, “Get the fuck away from me before I call the police. Get away, you thieves.”

They take off, not quite running but they are scurrying.  As they make their way down the alleyway, I am shouting, “Watch your purses, everyone, these two women are thieves.  They are thieves.  They will steal from you.”

Now, everyone in the alleyway has stopped to watch the show. As my volume got louder, their pace got quicker.  Soon they were out of my sight.

Back in my hotel, I go to the bar and have a beer in celebration of yet another victory against crime and injustice.  But as I am taking my last sip, a thought crosses my mind.  “What if they come back here with friends and attack me.  Should I change my hotel?”  I only had one more day in Beijing.  I have tentative plans to go to an evening concert.  I decide to lay low for the evening and stay in my hotel. I leave town the next day, thankful to put this incident behind me.