Hands Down, an Amazing Experience

I went into Project Bohol with no expectations. I wasn't scared or anxious, which surprised my Nanjing friends. Why be nervous? I have a mom for that. I was just excited.

(For those of you who need to get caught up, Project Bohol is a program run by All Hands Volunteers, which provides aid to areas affected by natural disasters, both in the US and abroad.)

The work itself was really, really cool. Before the rebuilding can start, most families still need dangerous structures removed from their property. There were three main types of services All Hands provided for families while I was there: safe-ing, decon (deconstruction), and rubbling. We chose which "team" we would be on for the day the night before, in a mad dash to sign up on a giant white board. The sites started off with normal names when I first arrived ("Church," "Kitchen," etc.) but as my time went on, the site names became a lot more sassy ("Kissing House," "Run, Chicken, Run," "Tiara")

Safe-ing was by far my favorite, mostly because I enjoyed playing tug-of-war with an unstable house. Safe-ing involved assessing how to safely take down the house (hence the name!), setting up props to hold the house while we work, weakening the house little by little, then pulling down the house with well-placed ropes.

How a house ready to be "safe-d" looked on arrival

Decon was a close second. From de-tinning the roof (taking out the rusty nails, then throwing the sheets of tin into a pile), taking apart the wooden structures, and sledgehammering the foundation and low walls, this job was just a whole lot of labor (and a whole lot of fun!)

Before...

And after...

Rubbling was my least favorite, and I pretty much avoided it most of the time (except when it was sneakily mislabeled as "Decon.") It just involved shoveling rubble created by an earlier team of sledgehammers into a pile. It hurt my knees and was not very exciting.

I just wanted to sledge. All day every day.

My new calling

What made this work so much different than my previous rebuild work was that we barely had any tools, and none of them were electric (insert sneaky "donate money so we can buy more tool!" ploy: here.) There would be times when all we could really do was shovel rubble, but we only had two shovels for a team of six. One time, I was on a team de-tinning a roof  and we had run out of hammers and crowbars. Our oldest on-site member, who was in his 70s, resourcefully started de-tinning the roof with a shovel, by placing the shovel under the roof and using it as a lever to pull the tin off. I've hammered with a crowbar, sledged with a regular hammer, and removed nails with a sledgehammer. And besides that, most of what I did was just with my hands. The best advice I received the whole time I was working with was, "Ditch the tools. Use your body." I literally kicked down doors and karate-chopped wood* and it was a lot faster than using tools on it.

And the people. The people.

The people who were working on the All-Hands site were amazing. Even though the campsite often felt like a revolving door, with new people coming in and people leaving all the time, most people were long-term volunteers. At eleven days, I felt like I was one of the shortest stays (or maybe I just wanted to stay longer!) A lot of people were backpackers, doing a year (or five) on the move. Many were people who quit their jobs and came to the Philippines to work indefinitely. And quite a few of the people who came around the spring festival were teachers, from all over Asia, spending their vacation time philanthropically with All Hands. I feel like I am a pretty well-traveled person, but I was by far the least experienced traveler of the bunch. I loved hearing their stories, and I've now added about a hundred new places to my travel list.

Additionally, all the volunteers were really supportive on-site. I am not the strongest person in the world, nor am I the most experienced, but that didn't matter. No one ever made me feel stupid, or insisted they take over a job I was doing too slowly. The team leaders on safe-ing sites always involved the whole group in the process, no matter how much experience we had. I felt comfortable speaking up, asking questions, and giving my input. They were also really understanding of my knee injury, and a bunch of team leaders actually forced me to take breaks, because they knew I would've powered through despite any pain or discomfort.

And, like I mentioned in my previous post, the people for whom we were doing the work, the most important part of this experience, were incredible.

I could go on and on about how meaningful and personal the experience of actually working on the houses was, as compared to sending money to an organization. (Although to be honest, most organizations need money more than they need physical labor or other types of material donations!) I could tell you the stories I heard, of family members lost and harrowing escape tales. But instead, I'd like to tell you about one thing in particular that always struck me.

We've all seen the pictures of what the affected areas of the Philippines look like right now, but I was there. I looked at the shacks people were using as make-shift homes. I saw the scrimping and saving. I saw the fear and the worry about the future. Where would they live? How would they live? I can't explain how I knew, but I got the impression they were living day-to-day. It was indescribable. But no matter what, without fail, the homeowners always provided us volunteers with snacks. They would buy liters of Coca Cola and store-bought chips, or make us fried bananas served with frighteningly yellow energy drinks. Often, they would crack open coconuts and, after we had drank the milk, would make us "nature's spoon," a flat piece of coconut skin we used to scrap off the coconut meat. One homeowner made us soup. Another served us candied, grilled potatoes. So many of the homeowners were living in what I would consider poverty, yet they still treated us like guests. I feel like that anecdote, moreso than any of the other experiences I had, sums up the love I felt for the people we helped, and the love I felt from them.

Delicious snacks!

Chopping the coconut for us

But here is the hands down (no pun intended) best part of my experience: 

Jeepney!

Every morning we piled into jeepneys, trucks that would transport us to our project sites, and every evening they brought us back to camp. And every morning, we were greeted by the local people the whole ride there, and every evening we were ushered home with cheers and yells as we passed by the makeshift homes. Kids would run out of their houses screaming "HIIII! HIIII!" I will never forget the sound of their voices, getting louder as we approached, then disappearing as soon as we passed by.

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

I started every day with a grin on my face, and ended it the same way. Nothing is a better indicator of happiness than a smile being the first thing, and the last thing, you do every day.

View from a project side. What's not to love?

Also, PS for anyone who thought the idea of me sleeping in a tent was "unrealistic," I proved you wrong! Spent the entire time in a tent, save for one night that I had to be indoors, because there was a baby typhoon (!)

I know I wasn't able to discuss everything in this blog post, so post your questions in the comment section below! Want to know what I ate at the campsite? What my favorite project was? Average day's schedule? Ask me a question and I'll be sure to respond...

Want the story behind this photo? Just ask!

And don't forget, you can still donate to All Hands! Click here to donate today :)

*I didn't actually karate chop it. Usually, I twisted the wood until the nail popped out. But let's not split hairs here... or pieces of wood...

The Philippines!

I know you've been waiting with bated breath for a report of my trip to the Philippines, so suffer no more!

After a dramatic (traumatic?) experience at the airport, where I was informed that I had never actually rebooked my ticket, only secured a place on the waiting list for a flight that was now overbooked, the flight staff took pity on my poor, weeping self, or rather, wanted to get me out of their hair, and sent me on my flight as scheduled to Bohol, connecting in Manila.

Before I went to the Philippines, I had read a few travel guides and descriptions of the country. "The people are so friendly!" claimed a travel guide. "The people are so religious," said another. "The country is juuust right" said Goldilocks. But I was fully unprepared for how fully accurate these descriptions are.

Sheer, unedited beauty

The people were extraordinarily friendly. Here in China, I am accustomed to getting a free drink here and there, a chatty taxi driver who wants to know my opinion on Obama, or a friendly grandmother who insist I play peek-a-boo with her granddaughter. But everyone I met in the Philippines was friendly, and I wasn't always in tourist-y locations. I can't think of a single exception. The families whose houses we worked on. My bus rides to and from scuba lessons. Every tri-cycle and habal-habal driver I encountered. My voice got hoarse from talking so much!

New friends

I'm sure part of my different experiences in China and the Philippines stems from the fact that English is a national language of the Philippines, and Philippine people likely felt more confident talking to me in English than Chinese people do (although they always apologized for their poor language skills.) But that can't be the only reason, plus I didn't have the same friendly experiences in Thailand or Cambodia, where more people speak English as well. I hate to make a sweeping generalization about a people and be culturally insensitive, but the Philippines routinely tops the "world's happiest countries" list and I can see why. Maybe it was the beautiful weather, maybe it was a cultural attitude toward treating others the way you wish to be treated, I couldn't say. But damn I met a lot of friendly people!

The Philippines is probably the most religious country I've ever visited, and I've been to the vatican. OK, so maybe that's an exaggeration, but still. I first noticed it when I hailed a tricycle to the campsite. All the tricycle taxis have religious words printed on the back, and are called "Jesus" or "Maria" or other Christian names.

I can do all this through HIM who gives me strength"

I often cleared religious paraphernalia out of the houses we worked on. "The Lord sent you," "May God bless you," and other phrases were usually our form of thank you from the people whose homes were destroyed. Not that it made me uncomfortable in the least. In fact, an elderly woman and I had an interesting conversation about religion after I told her that I'm Jewish. I knew the Philippines was a pious, religious country, but I had no idea how widespread or pervasive Christianity really would be.

The Philippines was just a wonderful place to spend close to three weeks. All of the things that happened that seemed "bad" at the time, like a mini-typhoon that evacuated me from my tent and the loneliness of staying on an isolated beach by myself, don't seem as bad in retrospect. More details soon!

Where's She Been?

You may be asking, "Where has China Doll been?"

And the answer is, right here. Right where I'm sitting, typing, almost falling asleep. I'm on Earth, in Asia, in China, in Nanjing, at Hohai University, in Building 7, in my bed.

"But China Doll!" you gasp. "You're supposed to be helping typhoon victims in Bohol! You were so excited! Why are you sitting on your bed?"

I'm sitting on my bed because my internet only works when I sit on the right hand corner of it.

I'm in Nanjing because I injured the outer meniscus in both my knees. It was painful, but worse, it was a drag. My whole life came to a halting stop. All my plans, my last two weeks of classes at Hohai, my vacation. I was living off original flavored Goldfish and the kindness of Natalie and Lela, who brought me groceries and gummy worms respectively. I had some hilarious experiences at a Chinese hospital and some not so hilarious experiences with the insane cost of getting an English translator for a Chinese orthopedic doctor.

"But China Doll!" you gasp. "Doesn't that mean you had an insane amount of free time where you could have been blogging, making us laugh and cry along with your misadventures?"

Yes, I could have. But I didn't. To be honest, I was just too depressed. And I had very little to report, unless you're interested in my Netflix viewing habits. I kept the shades drawn and the fleece Walmart onesie on. I got up to get water, use the bathroom, and get food. I was a mess. I knew my trip had to be delayed, maybe even cancelled. I could barely say it out loud without tears welling up in my eyes, let alone post about it.

But then, something wonderful happened. The anti-inflammatories kicked in. The smelly herbal patches on my knee made me feel wonderful. I started seeing an American physiologist, who told me, yes, I would return to my normal life (my Chinese orthopedic doctor had other ideas.)

With the doctor's blessing, I rebooked a new flight, with one week at the All Hands volunteer campsite instead of three. Swimming in the crystal blue waters of Anda Beach could help my rehabilitation, the doctor exclaimed! But still, I'm far from healed. I'm still in pain on a daily basis, which leads to my next point...

Now, I feel conflicted. After I cancelled my flight, I had found things to look forward to here in Nanjing so I wouldn't be so sad about my trip. I'm worried about my knees in the work environment, sleeping in a tent, and traveling. I'm worried about the weather. I'm worried about the cost of the "vacation" portion of my trip because of how much I've had to pay to the doctors/rebooking fees. I'm worried about the length of the trip. I'm worried that Evan will turn our apartment into a brothel à la Risky Business.

But here I am, packed and ready to go. One week with All Hands, and a week and a half at Anda Beach (learning how to scuba dive, I hope!) So prepare for an update upon my return, and don't lose faith. I'll start posting more often, now that I have actual news to report. China Doll is going away for a bit, but she'll come back... she always does!

A Sad, Sad Christmas

I know I haven't been updating recently. Besides being insanely busy, working extra hours at the training center and college prep center where I moonlight, my life has just been insanely boring recently. I mostly just lesson plan. Cook. Clean my house. Try to stay warm. It's not very exciting.

But I'm just so sad right now, I just have to share this story with you before I lose it:

Yesterday, I went to the annual Jiangsu Christmas and New Year's Party. And like last year, they gave out stuffed animals at the end of the evening. I got a stuffed duck modeled after the beloved Hong Kong Big Yellow Duck.

On my way home, I stopped at the copy shop to print out some papers for class tomorrow. Even though the people who work at this copy shop get really exasperated with me and my lack of Chinese, I go there because it's cheap, close, and because of Copy Shop Baby.

He's not really a baby, but Copy Shop Baby is adorable. I'm guessing he's the son of the owner. He doesn't have a lot of toys, so he's usually just running up and down the hill outside or spinning in circles in front of the bakery next door. Literally. One time, I saw him playing with a stapler, a roll of toilet paper, and some weird metal rods. As I said, not a lot of toys.

He's like the MacGyver of toys

So when he saw the duck yesterday, he was grinning and asking me (in Chinese) "What is that?! What is that?!" So I decided that today, as painful as it would be to part with 小黄鸭 (SHOULDN'T HAVE NAMED IT), I would give it to Copy Shop Baby for 圣诞节, Christmas.

Adorbzzz

So today when I went to make the copies, I told him that tomorrow is Christmas. I wanted to give him the duck. While my copies were being made, he used a box as a duck pond and had the duck swim... he and I took turns having the duck give each other kisses. And as I left, he gave me the duck back.

In my broken Chinese, I said, "it's for you!"

He said, "I don't want it."

"But I want to give it you! It's a present!"

"I don't want it. Unintelligible Chinese, which I think was something along the lines of, "I already have a lot of toys."" He took out a car and started playing with it.

At this point, the copy shop was filled with students. Staring at me. His mom urged him to take the duck. He wouldn't. My face burning crimson, I walked over and gave it to her, hoping he would want to play with it later.

Embarrassed. Sad. Depressed. As selfish as this is, I was hoping that giving Copy Shop Baby the stuffed duck would make me feel a little more cheerful. The laughter of a child and whatnot. But no. Sigh. Chinadoll is feeling those wintertime blues...

Chinadoll Needs Help

(This is a long, unecessarily drawn out story. For the highlights, check the sentences in bold. You're welcome.)

I knew I wanted to go to the Philippines for my winter break. Last year, as many of you remember, my 6 week break included a tour of Northern Thailand, Angkor Wat in Cambodia, and a brief stopover in Hong Kong. All summer I had been looking forward to planning my Southeast Asian beach getaway.

Then, Super Typhoonn Haiyan hit. Much of the Philippines remained unaffected and I could have continued planning my trip as scheduled. But reading the devastating stories of makeshift hospitals, entire communities displaced and homeless, and bodies strewn across the coastline made me realize how selfish I have become in China. In America, I gladly spent my time volunteering to build, to teach, to sing, anything I could find. But in China my life has become consumed with earning money doing extra work, going out to bars with my friends, and dreaming of the things I want to do and buy both in China and the US. I forgot what it felt like to be so affected by the plight of others that I feel moved, even obligated, to help.

That morning the first of the online articles and photos started to roll in, the titles that touted,"Things You Can Do to Help Typhoon Haiyan Relief Efforts" started their viral online spread, I spent in bed researching how to help on the ground. Most organizations only needed monetary donations to send abroad to pay for food, water, and other immediate resources. No one was sending people to do physical work because there was just too much to do before that could happen. The only organization I could find that even suggested they would be sending people anytime in the near future was All Hands, a US based organization that rebuilds both domestically and abroad after natural disasters. I applied quickly to their program, but after doing so reread the fine print: they wouldn't be sending anyone yet and they didn't know when they would be able to organize a team.

Two, maybe three weeks passed. I desperately hoped I'd be able to find an organization going to the Philippines in January, but the chances grew slimmer.

One morning late November, my alarm went off and I rolled over in bed. I mentally started checking off the things I had to do that day. Grade presentations. Grocery shop. I added "Plan winter break" to the list. I had given up waiting. But that's the day I finally received the email: "Your application has been accepted!"

Since I am entirely incapable of writing short stories, the end of this long saga is that I am going to Bohol (a community hit hard in the Philippines) for 20 days in January. During this time, I will "safe" houses (clear debris, makinng the homes safe for the occupants to reenter and find their belogings) and rebuild. I will be staying at an All Hands camping ground, and I'm still unsure whether I will have running water, let alone electricity or internet.

I don't know what the situation will be when I arrive. I know that a lot of work has been done this past month and will get done during December, but I think that I will still see the immediate results of the disaster firsthand when I'm there. All volunteers have been warned of the dangers involved with safe-ing houses, from physical injury to illness caused by asbestos and other mold. I've never been one for camping or roughing it. And to be honest, my rebuilding skills from the trip I did in New Orleans, LA and Galveston, TX (and from the years on tech crew at Tenafly High School) are a little rusty, no pun intended. But realistically, this is something I fee like I have to do. Selfishly, it's something I want to do. I would never forgive myself if I hadn't followed through once the idea to help in the Philippines popped into my head.

I am currently running a personal fundraiser for All Hands. All donations go directly to Project Bohol, for the materials needed for volunteers like me. My goal is $750, and after posting on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and Grinnell Plans, I've already received a few donations. So please, help me out! Not everyone can travel to help physically, but everyone can donate money, even $5, from the comfort of their own home. Click here to see my fundraising page and to help me reach my goal!

I hope to keep everyone updated from the Philippines, but it might have to wait until I've returned to China. China Doll is gearing up to tough it out!

Thanksgiving and Other Foods

Anyone who knows anything about China Doll knows she can't cook. 

Is it cereal then milk, or milk then cereal? I never cared enough to find out. But recently, I've discovered what I thought was cooking inability is actually just a giant inferiority complex. Who would believe they were a proficient cook when their mother is Her Royal Highness of Culinary-land, perfecting recipes on the very first try and taste testing foods and saying things like, "needs cumin" when a) it tastes fine to me and b) what the heck is cumin.

But with my small kitchen and limited resources, I've been pulling together some awesome meals. My MVP moment is when, too lazy to go out and buy materials, I threw together a delicious meal with only the foods in my house. Balsamic-orange chicken, yum!

Food often tastes better than it looks, OK?!

I also used some Keebler pre-made graham cracker crusts (couldn't make home-made here) to bake mini apple-pies.

Leftovers meant cinnamon-nutmeg apple oatmeal the next morning.

My friends and I have been taking turns hosting Sunday night family-style dinners. It's a nice way to start/end the week and it reminds me of home. 

Lela's chili night

My turn to host, Evan and I made minestrone and ate bread from a local German bakery. I cooked for ten people! And no one died!

Fancy, huh

It was also a good excuse to hard-core clean our apartment.

But my crowning achievement was Thanksgiving. Natalie hosted everyone in her beautifully decorated apartment. Formal dress required. It was especially wonderful because Sophie came to visit from Hangzhou! We each provided different parts of the meal, and I was assigned stuffing. I've never made stuffing before in my life. I didn't even like stuffing until a few years ago. But hot damn, I ROCKED it. I used Smitten Kitchen's Apple-Herb Stuffing for all Seasons recipe, and it was super delicious.

Exemplary of Evan's artistic style

STUFFING!

The glorious plate

For actual Thanksgiving, we had dapanji (大盘鸡), which reminds me of a wintry Western stew based on the tasted and the fact that it has potatoes, meat and egg noodles. Plus, we had fried bread, bing, (餅)... I like to think it was in honor of Hanukkah. And for dessert, macaroons!

大盘鸡 and 餅 

Cooking in China takes a lot of creativity because I'm very limited by ingredient and cookware. I have only one hot plate (that is currently broken. But that's another story) and a toaster oven that has three settings: broil, bake, and toast. I also didn't bother buying a ton of cookware because I knew it would only be for one year. All measurements must be converted to mL. What makes me so proud is that I'm pretty much always winging it. I've always been able to cook, but only after following the recipe exactly. But now, I can eyeball and approximate, which is exciting.

Anyway, I know chicken and apple pie aren't that interesting, but it was high time I learned how to cook more than scrambled eggs and sauteed veggies for myself so I'm pretty darn proud. China Doll is officially a master chef.

China Moment 二

My life is filled with China moments. That's probably because I live in China. Probably.

China Moment Part 1

Usually when I buy groceries vegetables from the market, I buy a ton at a time. We go through a lot of vegetables, I usually buy more every few days. But the other day, it so happened that all I needed was garlic and ginger.

Altogether, the garlic and ginger cost me 1 kuai. That's 16 cents. A whole head of garlic and a hunk of ginger: 16 cents. Incredible.

No picture necessary. If you don't know what garlic and ginger look like, I insist that you stop reading my blog and go to a market. At the very least, use Google images.

China Moment Part 2

My bike got stolen. There is nothing more "China" than getting your bike stolen when it was locked up, parked in front of your apartment. It was a sad day. I loved my old bike. Getting around without it, even for three days, was terrible. So this morning I bought a new one.

New bike

I dig the color. Note the multiple locks.

Unrelated

I hosted a Halloween gathering at my apartment on Thursday. Costumes required. I went a little overboard with the food and libations, but I love Halloween and it was fun.

Mint oreo-pocky stick-M&M spiders

Sheila, posing with my creations 

The spider in its homemade Reese's cup web

But Evan actually is a kitty cat...

Lela was a pumpkin.
She brought Oreo Dirt Pie and lots of decorations, and I am appreciative.

I was Arthur.

If you don't get my costume, click here.

OK, laconic China Doll out. More verbose China Doll to come...