Spring may not officially arrive for another week but it sneaked in early yesterday and surprised us with sunshine, warm temperatures, blossoms just ready to pop out, and a breath of what is ahead. We are told to enjoy spring fully—it soon converts to a hot and muggy summer. For now we are grateful to see a warm day and hope others follow since our indoor heat is being turned off—by official decree—on March 15, no matter what the temperature is outside.
School this week was a delight as my oral students “Toured the Teacher” with their presentations, acting as travel agents, in an attempt to sell me on traveling to their hometowns. Their enthusiasm was great fun to watch. The worst part was having to grade their efforts, but that, as I explained to them, is the “dirty diaper” of my job as a teacher. (That by the way is an expression that had to be explained.)
By Saturday we decided that we had had our noses to the proverbial grindstone far too long this week and really had to get out of our apartment and do something fun. To waste such a day would surely be a sin of some type. After lunch we left with no jackets on and soon wished we’d have worn sandals and shorts instead.
Walking past the building just in front of ours, we laughed at the usual Chinese construction zone, complete with its heap of sledge-hammered debris piled below, as someone was having a new kitchen built.
The view improved as we turned the corner, walked around the block to JiaoDa’s north gate, and crossed the road to Xingqing Gong (Park) where we joined throngs of Chinese who had the same idea we had—to enjoy the day in the sunshine.
Without the gates of the park we found street vendors taking advantage of the crowds by setting up shop with everything from a man making handmade grasshoppers;
to a motley assortment of puppies in cages, guinea pigs, and florescent colored chicks for sale;
mixed in with balloons and festive kites; side by side carts of a variety of Xi’an treats—hot baked yams,
fried quail eggs on a stick, Chinese crepes, cotton candy, and ice cream bars.
We passed by most of their offering, stopping to buy an “oatmeal” ice cream bar and headed in through the gates to wander the paths along the lakes, enjoy the fun of seeing families caught up in being together on such a lovely day.
Once more we were the only foreigners in a sea of Chinese faces, and once more we were photographed and greeted with “Hello, how are you”—the first line every Chinese child learns in their English classes. Each was delighted in turn with our willing responses to return their greeting and give them the chance to practice their limited English, others wanted our autographs or have their pictures taken with us.
As we strolled along we listened to a young man singing Shanxi opera (something one can’t quite describe—you just gotta hear it!) to the accompaniment of a grandfather’s two-stringed erhu; we watched children climb and slide on lovely carved approaches to ancient structures;
we laughed at the children’s play ground areas with their brightly colored toys, the kiddie-bungy jump, I’d have loved to try myself, to the plastic barrels in the water than looked as if made out of substantial bubble wrap.
The lake was full of people having fun in paddle boats and even one old codger in an old row boat using a shovel for his oar.
The trees were showing the start of tiny new leaves, the blossoms were just beginning, and the forsythia was showing its yellow blooms. Best of all were the children with their cheery little round faces and Chinese charm.
Feeling renewed in spirit we returned home through our campus to get ready for Sunday. Leaving John at the apartment I headed to our little market street to get fresh ground beef, a few veggies and fruits.
I also made a stop to pick up John’s pants that had been left to have shortened. We have returned repeatedly for her sewing skills. Her treadle sits just off the street in an outdoor alcove. Despite our best efforts we have been unable to get her to accept extra pay for her services. So we give her the few yuan she charged with my hearty thanks. Yesterday I asked to take her picture and she was shyly pleased to have me do so.
Home again I put our veggies to soak and started cooking, tomorrow was to be our monthly potluck following our Church meetings so I had things to do while President Laing attended to his reports and plans. It had been a memorable day.
Sunday dawned bright again, though slightly cooler than yesterday. We hopped our usual taxi to Church—it saves John’s jostling two ways on a crowded bus—and were grateful to join once more with our branch members for meetings, food, and visits. Xiaoyu Belnap was one of our speakers. She is Chinese, originally from Xi’an who joined the Church in Hong Kong, married Patrick Belnap from Salt Lake City who served a Hmong mission in Minnesota. Now they are back in Xi’an where Xiaoyu’s mother lives, conveniently just a block away. Patrick is John’s second counselor and was to conduct this Sunday for Dave Monson who was in Hong Kong with his wife who was attending the Asian area women’s conference. Xiaoyu began her talk by telling of an experience that testified to all of us that the Spirit is brooding over this land with its millions and billions of people. Saturday night John had mentioned to Patrick to remember to bring the bread for the Sacrament Meeting. He didn’t know that they had no bread in their house. Xiaoyu felt awful, thinking they would have to buy some on Sunday morning. Early that morning Xiaoyu heard a knock on their front door. Opening it she found her non-member mom standing there holding two loaves of bread. She explained that she had had a dream in the night that they needed bread (something Chinese don’t really use) so she had brought this for them. Yes, the Spirit is at work in China. These are baby steps but hearts are softening and opening to the influences of the spirit. What a wonderful thing this is.
No comments:
Post a Comment