"A lot of us first aspired to far-ranging travel and exotic adventures early in our teens; these ambitions are, in face, adolescent in nature, which I find an inspiring idea...Thus, when we allow ourselves to imagine as we once did, we know, with a sudden jarring clarity, that if we don't go right now, we're never going to do it. And we'll be haunted by our unrealized dreams and know that we have sinned against ourselves gravely." -Tim Cahill
Trying to get started in Beijing again
I should have been much more prepared, considering I’ve been planning for my return to Beijing since August 2008, the minute I returned home from my first study abroad to China. I was curious and nervous with excitement when I stepped off the plane, mostly though I was tired and couldn’t wait to crash on anything slightly resembling a bed. I was surprised how easily I made it from the airport to my hotel, never once having to carry my heavy assortment of bags all at once. The drive was fast and safe, the taxi drivers actually stayed in their lanes and use their blinkers, and for a random Tuesday night at 7:00 pm there was surprisingly little traffic in Beijing.
The next morning I was eager to get the dirty work of registration out of the way, but I was slowed way down when I realized I had to wire money in order to pay tuition, so the whole process was put on hold as I waited half a day in a bank line. Today, however, the sun is shinning, and I’m up much earlier ready to search for apartments, register for class, and most importantly to have more patience and realize I may not accomplish anything today, but that’s o.k. at least I can see some blue sky.
The next morning I was eager to get the dirty work of registration out of the way, but I was slowed way down when I realized I had to wire money in order to pay tuition, so the whole process was put on hold as I waited half a day in a bank line. Today, however, the sun is shinning, and I’m up much earlier ready to search for apartments, register for class, and most importantly to have more patience and realize I may not accomplish anything today, but that’s o.k. at least I can see some blue sky.
Everything happens quickly in Beijing
Everything happens quickly in Beijing. Buildings pop up left and right, the subway is constantly expanding (there are now 13 lines), countless Chinese citizens from the western part are seeking jobs in the city, more and more foreigners visit and are even making China their home, and more foreign companies are also investing more time and effort into Beijing, resulting in a exciting yet tumultuous scene of young and old, new and outdated, as well as eastern and western cultures all colliding in one spot.
The other day I was walking down the street to meet my friend for lunch and on the way I noticed some workers stripping a bill board advertisement (it was hard not to notice since they blocked the entire sidewalk, forcing the numerous number of pedestrians to cut into heavy street traffic for half a block). On my way back an hour later, expecting to encounter this minor delay on my return trip, I was shocked to notice the sidewalk was completely cleared and the billboard ad changed. These minor changes are happening all over Beijing and having a major effect on the overall face and progress of the city. In some sense it is good, as Beijing is becoming a more international city, global brands are readily available making it comfortable for all foreigners to visit and foreign businesses continue to be intrigued by the Chinese cheap labor market and desire for growth. However, it is also easy to argue this quick yet haphazard development is not what’s best for China. While it may bring a surge of jobs and better quality of living for some, it’s important to keep in mind what was there before the giant IKEA and Wal Mart moved in. As shiny skyscrapers quickly replaces crumbling apartment buildings and historic hutongs around Tiananmen are knocked down in place of fancy government housing, this means opportunity for some but for the majority of middle to lower class Chinese it means they are pushed out of certain neighborhoods (which were originally theirs) and eventually Beijing will become a socially segregated and stratified city. This of course is a burden for most ‘western’ and ‘modern’ cities (not to confuse western as anything analogous with modern) but perhaps Beijing should re-think or start to actually systematically plan its development. China makes it clear they want to carve their own future but they seem to be heading down a similar path as many western cities, so I would caution them to take a breather and build their city with more conscious intentions before erecting more sky-scrappers, railways, and roads. After all, it is from the ancient Chinese philosophies that we learn about the ying and yang, the importance of a balanced lifestyle. Heeding their own ancient philosophies might be China’s best path if they actually applied it to their next stages of growth.
Mother Teresa Charities
During my week visit in Kolkata at the suggestion of a friend I volunteered at the Mother Teresa Charities and Ministries for a few days. The ministry is comprised of several locations, which care for either handicapped or abandoned children, or elderly people on the verge of dying. My friend and I signed up to help at Premdon, a large facility that cares for dying men and women. Our day started by hand-washing clothes in an assembly line with about ten other volunteers from all over the world, where we took turns scrubbing, soaking, rinsing, or hanging the clothes and sheets (It’s an awesome experience in itself to work with people from every part of the globe who have a desire to serve the poor and destitute). Clearly, any sort of washing machine would cut the time of this task by more than half but apparently the Mother Teresa way is to keep things simple and simulate the way the people you are taking care of live their lives. However, her outreach started quite some time ago and if she were here now I’m thinking she would not disapprove of a refrigerator so meat wouldn’t spoil or a few washing technique upgrades. Nonetheless, the experience bonded us with the other volunteers and I feel so blessed to have been even a very small part in the Mother Teresa ministries.
One morning while ringing out clothes a sister called me over to help her change bandages for the patients. I was supposed to lift them on and off the table and keep them in a position suitable for the sister to clean their wounds and bed sores. I tried to keep my face flinches to a minimal as the sister peeled back the white tissue covering ghastly scares so deep you could see their bones, black and rotting from exposure to the open air. One women was so skinny she could have posed as a holocaust survivor, her shoulder blades protruding out and her stomach so sunken in it was difficult to define her actual figure. She had bed wounds so deep it was as if someone has gouged out a one-inch deep chunk of her skin all around the area surrounding her tailbone. Cleaning her wounds was obviously painful as she flinched and audibly moaned while the sisters squeezed out yellow goup revealing her inner flesh (which literally looked like a piece of raw meat) and then squirted several ointments and re-wrapped the wounds. I reached for her hand and stroked her cheek, I thought she was crying but I wasn’t sure if her face was simply stained with tears or if these were fresh tears. Each time she moaned and squeezed my hand tighter I drew my face closer to hers and whispered ‘it’s ok, you’re almost done’ but I think I said this more for me than her. I knew she couldn’t understand me but I had to say something. Our eyes met and I never felt so close to death, I wanted to cry but as I glanced at the sisters working diligently I knew this was no time to break down. I had never held someone so close to the end, we locked eyes again and I could almost feel the pain riveting through her limbs in her lifeless expression and contorted body, I held her hand more tightly and hummed gently still not knowing if this was to sooth her or me. Death is not something for any us to dread or consume our minds with, and if anything I feel more comfortable with death after working with these women, but it also made me want to believe that death is just one more stop along each person’s journey and not the final destination. Perhaps it will be my final destination but for these men and women I hope they have a second chance or opportunity to live a decent life. I guess that is the intent of Mother Teresa’s mission to give the poorest and lowest people in society a little respect and love before they died, which everyone deserves. Of course no one can say what will happens after death, but it can’t hurt to hold someone’s hand as they exit their time on earth.
One morning while ringing out clothes a sister called me over to help her change bandages for the patients. I was supposed to lift them on and off the table and keep them in a position suitable for the sister to clean their wounds and bed sores. I tried to keep my face flinches to a minimal as the sister peeled back the white tissue covering ghastly scares so deep you could see their bones, black and rotting from exposure to the open air. One women was so skinny she could have posed as a holocaust survivor, her shoulder blades protruding out and her stomach so sunken in it was difficult to define her actual figure. She had bed wounds so deep it was as if someone has gouged out a one-inch deep chunk of her skin all around the area surrounding her tailbone. Cleaning her wounds was obviously painful as she flinched and audibly moaned while the sisters squeezed out yellow goup revealing her inner flesh (which literally looked like a piece of raw meat) and then squirted several ointments and re-wrapped the wounds. I reached for her hand and stroked her cheek, I thought she was crying but I wasn’t sure if her face was simply stained with tears or if these were fresh tears. Each time she moaned and squeezed my hand tighter I drew my face closer to hers and whispered ‘it’s ok, you’re almost done’ but I think I said this more for me than her. I knew she couldn’t understand me but I had to say something. Our eyes met and I never felt so close to death, I wanted to cry but as I glanced at the sisters working diligently I knew this was no time to break down. I had never held someone so close to the end, we locked eyes again and I could almost feel the pain riveting through her limbs in her lifeless expression and contorted body, I held her hand more tightly and hummed gently still not knowing if this was to sooth her or me. Death is not something for any us to dread or consume our minds with, and if anything I feel more comfortable with death after working with these women, but it also made me want to believe that death is just one more stop along each person’s journey and not the final destination. Perhaps it will be my final destination but for these men and women I hope they have a second chance or opportunity to live a decent life. I guess that is the intent of Mother Teresa’s mission to give the poorest and lowest people in society a little respect and love before they died, which everyone deserves. Of course no one can say what will happens after death, but it can’t hurt to hold someone’s hand as they exit their time on earth.
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