Get Happy

When my alarm went off this morning, I was exhausted! My legs ached and it felt like I physically could not move. After walking nearly 30 miles in two days, I needed a weekend to recover from my weekend.

My iPhone (which has been disabled while I’m here but can still get messages over Wi-Fi) was lit up, showing that I had new emails. I opened one from my church and read about how this past weekend was Pentecost, marking the 50^th day after Easter. Thinking back to Easter felt like a lifetime ago. Doing some quick math in my head, I realized I have 50 days left in China.

All of a sudden…the homesickness returned.

But as I took a shower and got ready, I tried to remind myself about all the things I’d wanted to see and do in China. That was still a long list and I was going to be able to start working my way through that list in the next few days. I’m sure once I start venturing out of Shanghai for the weekends, time will start to fly.

When I got out of the shower, I had a message from a friend of mine with an audio clip from an episode of the show House MD. In the clip, Hugh Laurie is singing the song “Get Happy.” The lyrics of “Forget your troubles, come on get happy,” made me smile. It made me think about what Johnny had said about using poetry to get through dark times. Somehow, I could relate to the words of this song and they did seem to perk me up.

I also had a new first to look forward to this morning: it was my first time wearing a mask to work. My allergies have been so bad, I broke down on Saturday and bought a mask for my commute. It looks like a surgical mask, but is actually made of cotton. There is a little pocket inside the mask that holds the paper filter over your mouth. Dawning my new face garment, and listening to my travel playlist in my headphones, I headed out for the day.

Wearing the mask was way more uncomfortable than I expected. With every breath I inhaled, the mask would suction over my mouth. When I exhaled, the warm moisture of my breath was trapped against my face. But when I got to work, for the first time, my nose wasn’t running, and I wasn’t sneezing. I think the mask just might be worth it.

I stopped for a pastry on my way in, and then for a cup of tea in the lobby of my building. The boy who works at the coffee shop looks like he is about 15 (he’s probably older) and he—like many other people—has told me that he likes practicing his English with me.

When I ordered the tea he said we have “White peach oolong and,” handing me the jar of the other kind, “We have this one. But I do not know how to say it.”

I looked at it. The label was in English but it didn’t help me. “I don’t know how to say it either. I’ll do the white peach oolong.” He brewed it for me—I watched the thermometer to make sure the tap water got hot enough and boiled long enough for my tourist stomach—and he handed it to me in a paper cup. It was really strong, with a very bitter bite, but a sweet after taste. I thanked him and headed upstairs.

When I came into the office, Vivi was opening up the windows and getting everything turned on. The way she dresses for work kind of reminds me of a 1950’s look. Everyday I’ve been there, she’s worn flowing knee length dresses, with white high heeled shoes, and her hair pulled back in either a bun or braid.

“How was your weekend?” she asked.

“It was really good,” I said, and told her about my adventures with Bryan, Johnny, and Emily. “How was your’s?” She had gone to visit friends over the weekend.

“And you don’t feel sick anymore?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I slept most of Saturday, but I started feeling better yesterday.”

“I have a gift for you,” she said. She pulled an orange brochure out of her bag. “It is an English menu for the restaurant across the street.” That had been the place we ate my first day, and so far was one of my favorites.

“Thank you!” I said.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Today we can go there.”

For my pronunciation practice today, Yang Renjeng introduced me to tones. Anyone who has tried to learn a little bit of Chinese before has probably discovered that tones are what make the language difficult. The same word said in each of the 5 tones is actually 5 different words. (For example “chu” can mean “pig” or it can mean “get out!” depending on which tone it is said in.)

There are five different tones. The first is the one I’d been practicing. I’ve been telling people that I feel like I’m singing when I pronouncing Chinese, and Yang Renjeng confirmed this was correct.  The first tone is kind of falsetto and high pitched. The second tone sounds kind of surprised, with the end of the syllables going up in tone (becoming higher pitched.) The fourth tone sounds kind of angry, getting progressively harsher and deeper in the syllable. This is one of the reasons that American tourists often feel like Chinese people are yelling at each other all the time. The fourth tone does sound like yelling, but is actually just part of the pronunciation. The third tone is the hardest, but also the one that people are most familiar with. The syllables actually drop and then come back up as they are spoken (as in the common Chinese greeting, “Ni Hao.”)

My voice was all over the place as I practiced. Yang would often tell me “too high” as my vocal sounds became more and more sharp and soprano sounding. I could physically feel my throat tightening and loosening with each sound. My facial muscles were tired too, and my poor tongue feels worn out after each day of pronunciation class.

The last word we practiced was “rongyi” Yang would say the first syllable (“rong”) and I would repeat it, and then we would do the second syllable (“yi.”) Then we tried doing the word together.

“Ronyi,” Yang said after we had practiced a few times. “It means easy.”

“Oh!” I said, a little sarcastically. “It is not rongyi.” They laughed. I’m actually really enjoying the lessons, but I feel totally ridiculous sliding my voice around the octave trying to make all these different sounds.

For lunch, we went to the restaurant across the street and I used my English menu to order “pork cake with rice.” It was a boneless pork chop served over kelp and rice, with some pork fat and soy sauce poured over it. It actually might be one of the best things I’ve eaten here, although I’m starting to think my stomach is shrinking as the portion was still too big to finish.

“You do not eat much for a boy,” Vivi told me.

We talked more about our weekends and they taught me a few more words. Even walking to the restaurant Vivi would point at things and I would try to name them in Chinese.

“What will you do this weekend?” Yang Renjeng asked.

“I’m hoping to go to Souzhou to visit some of my friends,” I said.

“You will go alone?” Yang asked.

“My friends live there so I will see them.”

“Oh,” she said. “And your friends speak Chinese?”

“No,” I said.

She laughed. “You will get ripped off! You are crazy to go not knowing Chinese.”

“We can help you buy the ticket online,” Vivi said.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I think it is better than going to the train station.”

“I also want to go to Xi’an,” I said. “Can you help me buy that ticket too?”

“Yes,” she said.

Yang added, “Suzhou will not sell out all the tickets, but Xi’an will once the kids get out of school.”

I got ahold of Bryan and we figured out the schedule for next weekend. We went back to the office and Vivi bought my ticket. She paid for it with her credit card, and then I paid her back with RMB. In American money, the round trip ticket was about $14.

When John came back from lunch, we went to the coffee shop in the building and started talking about some more projects I can work on. I am really, really happy with this internship as it is totally allowing me the chance to learn some language, learn about the culture, and learn some really practical business skills.

I think one of the quirkiest things about our office is the cleaning lady. She comes in every other day to clean, and personal space is definitely not an issue for her. She will wipe under my arms to clean the desk, and even mop between the legs of my chair. She doesn’t seem to want me to move, and she and Vivi are normally carrying on what sounds like a fun conversation, but it does feel a little unnatural at times.

Yang Renjeng brought in some snacks for the afternoon. She poured some in my hands and they looked like roasted almonds.

“I do not like them,” Vivi said. “They are too spicy for me.”

I tired one. It was really crunchy, but almost hollow in the middle. “That is actually really good,” I said. Yang poured more into my hands. “What is it?” Vivi got out her translator and it came back with “roasted big bean.” John clarified that they are roasted lima beans.

“You are used to eating spicy food because you are so close to Mexico, right?” Yang asked.

“Yes, I like spicy food,” I said. “But some spicy food here makes my face and my stomach really hurt.”

She laughed. “I like spicy food!”

As the day went on, I suddenly noticed the date. It’s June 10^th! It was one year ago today that I returned to the US from Prague. Thinking about it has filled me with nostalgia. And I think about how fast that year went. I can vividly remember getting off the plane in Colorado, making all sorts of observations about how ridiculous American culture is, and then being surprised by my two best friends as I cleared customs.

I do remember some hard times in Prague. It was so frustrating that none of the groceries kept for more than about a day or two before they spoiled. Getting lost on the wrong tram one night was terrifying. The lack of blue sky nearly drove me to insanity. But now, when I think back, Prague really does feel like home. I can still give people directions by street name of how to get around, and I know where all my favorite places are.

It took me nearly eight months to really adjust to living in the US. I remember snapping at a waitress for providing service “too quickly.” The noisiness of America drove me crazy, as did all of the patriotic rhetoric of various talk show pundits. I think in reality, adjusting to life back home was by far harder than leaving. But in time, I did get used to it. Just three days before I left for China, I was at my brother’s graduation. As the senior choir sang “The Star Spangled Banner” it did give me chills once again. I smiled thinking, this feels like home.

At the same time, I have to laugh. I realize that just one year after I returned to the US, I’m halfway around the world again having another adventure. I really am very blessed and thankful for all the opportunities I’ve had to see how life works on several different sides of the globe. I’m sure at some point Shanghai will start to feel like home…we’re just not there yet.

As we got close to closing, I started asking Yang some questions about some Chinese phrases. I’ve learned a few but I wanted to make sure I was pronouncing them correct.

“Wo bu shi jeng wein,” I said.

“I don’t think you need that one,” she said.

“But I want to be able to tell people I do not speak Chinese,” I said.

She laughed. “You are saying ‘I am not Chinese.’” She laughed some more. “I think everyone can tell you are not Chinese.”

We tried a few phrases, and she finally said, “I think the most useful one is,” she went to the white board and wrote it down, Ting bu dong. “It means, ‘I don’t understand.’ Is very easy and you can use it in restaurants and with people.”

On the way out, I told John about some of my travel plans. He gave me some advice to get a little more immersed in the culture. “You should do the hard sleeper at least once,” he said. “It’s comfortable enough, although it’s probably not as nice as you think. A lot of locals travel that way, so it definitely has some cultural eccentricities to it. It’ll make a good story to tell you friends when you get home.”

We said goodnight and I started walking home. With my arms crossed and my head looking down, the homesickness trickled back in. I came to realization that I never got home sick in Prague, because I expected Prague to be hard. I went into knowing it would challenge me, and when the rough days came, I was able to talk myself through it very quickly. This time around, I think my bravado got in the way. The whole time I was getting ready to come to China, I acknowledged things would be different, but I assumed I was ready for anything. I never thought through the idea of being away from home for 10 weeks. I romanticized everything without thinking through some of the practicalities. It has caught me more than a little off guard.

As I walked, I started repeating the words from that audio clip of “Get Happy.”

“Forget your troubles, come on get happy/You better chase all your cares away.”

About half a block down from my office, there was a little kid playing with a basketball. I would guess he was about 5 or 6 and the red ball looked like it practically outweighed him. But with a giddy smile, he bounced it and then fumbled to get above it to keep it from bouncing away.

“Shout Hallelujah, come on get happy/ Get ready for the judgment day.”

Outside a little fruit vendors shop, a shaved dog was laying on the ground. I’ve noticed that while most people have little tea-cup sized dogs, those who have larger ones shave them to resemble lions. I’ve seen lots of different breeds all with bare bodies and the remaining fur resembling a main.

“The sun is shinin', come on get happy/The Lord is waitin' to take your hand.”

It was cooling off rapidly as I walked. The sun setting through the smog was a bright red color. Bryan and I had talked about how odd it must be to live in western China. The entire country is on one time zone (“China time”.) Here on the east coast, the sun rises at about 5:30am. I would what time the sun comes up further west.

“Shout Hallelujah, come on get happy/We're going to the promise land.”

All around me, horns were honking as cars raced about in every direction. I came to the intersection and, just like everyone else, stood a little bit off the curb and into the street so the drivers knew I was serious about crossing. When the light changed, despite many vehicles not stopping, I pushed with the rest of crowd as we ventured across the crosswalk.

I thought about what John had said about using poetry to get through tough times. I kept repeating the verses of the song over and over to myself…“Come on, get happy”…It dawned on me that I might look like a babbling idiot, but it also dawned on me that very few people could understand what I was saying.

With one loud “Shout Hallelujah, come on get HAPPY!” my arms uncrossed and I walked home with a smile on my face. I’ve got 50 days left, and while I’m sure there are more trying times ahead, I’m also sure the 50 days will fly by! I’m going to make the most of it and enjoy every second I’ve been blessed to have in China.