This post has been long overdue, but as the gradually recovering chronic procrastinator I am, I'm going to educate you about what happened in the two days before the mid-term break when the CIS Hangzhou was deserted for the first time since the start of the school year. On the morning of the 14th of October 2015, (almost) all CIS Hangzhou students were assembled in "appropriate" casual wear and brandishing over-night bags to go to a nearby town called Tongzhou. After a couple-hour long bus ride in which Natasha and I conversed and laughed about the childhood movies and shows we used to watch (Totally Spies & Starstruck & so much more). Besides from us, the technology deprived bus was completely mute. Upon arrival at the quaint little town, we sorted ourselves into our home-stay groups and followed our home-stay moms into our hokey-pokey temporary homes. The trip was rather eventful and I would merely bore you if I rambled on, so I'll give you some highlights.
The Twitch for Tech
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| A picture I took during exploration time. |
For this trip some clever teacher(s) (I'm looking at the Grace's) decided it would be a good idea to prohibit any form of technology to facilitate our connection with nature and our surroundings. In theory this sounds like a good idea, and I'm still pondering over the things it triggered me to think about. Personally my relationship with technology is a necessary and friendly one: I wield it with a relative amount of skill and correspondingly it aids me. I wouldn't consider myself an anti-corporate hippie completely detached from the bane of social media addiction, but I also definitely consider myself as obsessed and attached to the ever-pulsating pixel world as many of my peers are. Usually because of Hangzhou's packed schedule, I really have to utilize my free time instead of mindlessly squandering it on things I used to do. Because of this, because the time where I had nothing to do was so scarce, the amount of time I found playing apps on my phone and clicking rapidly playing Tetris plummeted. This is something I find both unintentional but very appreciated. It's one of the reasons why it slightly disappoints and even repulses me when I'm sitting at a table with all these wonderful people with such wonderful things to say and the sight I'm met with is pairs of eyes dully glued to their screens, the only sounds being the taps and beeps from phones. It was really interesting to me to see my peers in this new situation of not just having their tech taken away so they couldn't game or do god-knows-what in the night because of the unforgiving tech box, but during the day when there was that blank spot of time to fill. When there was that awkward silence. When they weren't
doing something. To my surprise, instead of being grateful for this and using it to the best of their ability, they then chose to complain and reject. They chose to count down to the time when they could plug themselves back into endless distraction instead of count up into their identity and the tangible exotic new experiences around them. I feel both pity and gratitude for them.
Clocks Are Underrated
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| A clock (Something I wish we had) |
Another interesting side-effect of the No Tech epidemic is that I realized without my phone or computer, I actually had no way of telling the time. Isn't that hilarious? At this current day and age where we're all so updated and in the know with a few clicks, once detached from that network I couldn't even tell one of the most basic, most essential ingredients for life: time. I just can't help but think despite the leaps and bounds humanity has conquered in these recent years, take away the technological fancy armor and they're crippled. At first I attempted to construct a make-shift sundial with my fingers, lest to say it didn't work out. In the end I survived, mooching off the time from smart people who had watches or (gasp) employing human interaction and simply asking nearby villagers what the time was.
The Storytellers Pt. 1 (Kuang Wen)
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| The view from where we were sitting as we listened to her story. |
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| Kuang Wen (right) and Thelma (center) playing with Huang Huang (黄黄) the puppy and Yoonjin (left) trying to get it on the action. |
As a part of the plan for the trip, there was an allocated amount of time for a segment called Storytelling Time. In this period of time each dorm would visit two "Storytellers", basically two of the coach mentors, who would then tell everyone about a story or two about something that happened in their life. My first storyteller was Kuang Wen, who told us three little stories. The first was about her great-grandfather who ran away from home at 16 to join the army, another about last summer during her first time in America, she bought a roast chicken for a steal, but she stayed at youth hostel and when she left it alone and and back to it later, it was gone without a trace. The third was also set on the in America, my hometown New York in fact. She said she had arrived much later than she had expected and didn't wish to bother her uncle whose home she was supposed to stay in at that ungodly hour so she planned to sit in McDonald's in Times Square and just observe the bustling ecosystem that was Times Square. However, on the plane she found herself talking to the African-American woman before her and after telling her her story, the kind lady invited Kuang Wen to stay for the night with her at her brother's place. Kuang Wen hesitantly agreed and followed her to her brother's place, which turned out to be a liquor store. She was quite scared during the experience, but the morning after she emerged unscathed, thanked both of them thoroughly, and went on with her adventures. I really admired her bravery, and it made me think about how our society is so paranoid and twisted that pure exchanges like this where a stranger helps another without any manipulation and deception occurring is so rarely found it's frankly disappointing. Then, we thanked Kuang Wen and traveled to our next Storyteller: Henry.
The Storytellers Pt. 2 (Henry)
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| Henry telling his story. |
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| The view right outside the temple. |
Our second storyteller was Henry. For his story, we were inside an old serene temple, dappled in the fresh sunlight as the aromas of Chinese wood wafted lazily, and the crooning voice of an old local woman told us the story behind the temple. That humble temple had actually been there for a long time, although it had been in a much worse condition before during the Cultural Revolution when the Red Guards had tore it down, but had been restored recently. Then, Henry told us about his story. He told us about his first and short-lived serious relationship that started and ended in the last few years once again in the city that never sleeps: New York. His story was so profound and raw I won't even attempt to retell it, other than to say it allowed us to get to understand him much more. Little to our knowledge, shortly afterwards he and Janelle would make their relationship public to our screeching delight.
Feathery Fatality
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| Sweet Potatoes we picked on the fire. |
As part of the students who chose to do the cooking activities on Tongzhou, we got to go in the fields to pick radishes, vibrant sweet potatoes, furry soybeans, and leafy greens. On a side note, I saw a live writhing worm squirming through the dirt for the first time. However, once we returned to the house and we started to prepare the vegetables, our home-stay mom appeared and asked if any of us wanted to kill the chicken.
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| Innocent Chicken. |
Hours earlier we were chasing around the fluffy chickens around the yard, the next second our home-stay mom captured one and craned its head back, brandishing her scratched sharp kitchen knife, exposing its pale fleshy neck. After seeing our meekness and shock, she went ahead, did the Chinese squat by the sandy drain outside, and slit its neck open. At once the redness (much redder than a human's) spewed out. She then set it down and let it bleed out as it spasmed. As my peers turned around and shielded their eyes, I stared transfixed at the grotesque sight of it all. Then, I saw first-hand and understood why the term "... like a headless chicken" existed. After it had finished twitching, she picked it up and started to skin it. Then, I started asking her about her views on animal agriculture. She said she had killed chickens since she was very young, and she thought the act of killing chickens was more acceptable than killing cows or pigs because the way she killed chickens was very humane and as painless as possible (she told me cows cry and scream while being killed) and was merely for absolute need. After being plucked, she skinned it and turned it inside out, letting the unwanted guts splat onto the street. Once she took the wanted meat, she threw away the guts and started hosing the street down, washing the blood down the drain until all that remained was the wet spot on the dry road.
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| My Home-stay Mom. |
#SOLOYOLOTIME
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| Some of the photos I took during Solo Yolo Time. |
One of the activities in the itinerary for Tongzhou was something Mr. K dubbed as #SoloYoloTime. During this time we were encouraged to find a space on our own and mediate and appreciate the time to enjoy the environment. I happened to take off in the same direction as Anna and Andrea, and we stumbled upon a really nice jetty of sorts. It was a road that led straight to a lake, the right side having a bridge stretching into the distance, and the other side of the lake being several colorful buildings. That road was so simple and secret if one were riding on a bike fast and weren't aware for a second, one could really just zoom straight into the water. Added with the fact I had no sense of time, I bathed and thrived in a state of serene limbo. I wrote for a while, at first simply recounting the last few days then moving on to whatever little bits and bobs were floating in my mind. Then, I just sat back and stared at the cerulean cloudless sky. Eventually staring turned to snoozing, and my eyelids drooped and I just slept to the sound of the shore dancing. This was definitely one the favorite parts of the trip.
In the end, at the end of those precious two days, we packed up, we came back to Hangzhou. The day after that, we flew back to Hong Kong, home sweet home. The next week, I turned 14. In these 2 days I tried yogurt-flavored chips, saw a chicken being killed, rode on a 2-person bike all around a rural field village on the cusp of industrialization with Natasha, wandered in the woods, listened to the waves, saw a wriggling worm, learned how to skip rocks, explored a rusty shipwreck, played with chickens and ducks and dogs, and got lost. So, what have I learnt? To be honest, I'm still figuring it out, but all I know for sure is that (despite how cheesy it sounds), you have to get lost before you get found, and this trip has been a small stepping stone on my journey of inventing myself.
Thanks Internet, Lina signing out.
