life

recently the city & county of honolulu added some new busses to their fleet. i would not know this except that they are a different style from the old ones, and they look like the busses in qingdao. something about the shape and the fact that the windows are bigger.

i learned a lot about chinese life in chinese busses.

for the first half of my time in china i had a second job tutoring a boy who lived on the other side of town. it would take me an hour to walk from my apartment to the bus stop, catch a bus, transfer in front of the enormous, intimidating, well-guarded government building by 五四广场, then ride to the western side of qingdao where we would meet.

after our lesson, i would walk back to the bus stop and try to get on the bus before all the school children, their grandparents, and those who had just finished work. because if i didn’t i would be standing all the way back to downtown in rush hour traffic.

never have i been so physically close to so many people, some of which have been either playing a sport that causes profuse sweating or not bathed in days. or eaten lots of raw garlic. these three people will be pressing themselves against you and screaming into their cellphones. there is really no way i can accurately explain the tight togetherness of the bus. it’s so bad that when it stops at the bus stop, it is virtually impossible to get on or off- there are so many people crammed into the door-well that the doors cannot open. forget about even attempting to find a seat; you’ll be lucky to find a pocket of air to breathe and get off without loosing anything. i once almost lost a flip flop in the shuffle. i ended up throwing myself out of the bus with my shoes in my hands. which is not something you do in china.

also they have these fun televisions on the buses that showcase a variety of entertaining and educational programming, including but certainly not limited to: how to make your own snuggie (which you are encouraged to wear to the post office and bank), america’s funniest home videos, recent news, olympic highlights and the chinese version of south park.

all the chinese busses are all simultaneously aiming to break a land speed record. should a pedestrian conveniently not look (and thus not see) the oncoming bus, the driver will have to slam on the breaks (although i heard of many accidents concerning pedestrians who “didn’t see” the bus, or breaks that weren't slammed fast enough) which may or may not send cell phone/ipod/shopping bag wielding passengers and their valuable possessions flying. my roommate once told me that a bus she was riding braked so hard that an elderly passanger banged his head on the window and it started to bleed. the bus is a very dangerous place indeed.

but as i would stand at the bus stop so far away from home, in this unfamiliar part of the city, freezing cold in the twilight it would hit me. i was doing this. i was in china, working two jobs, grocery shopping, going out with friends from around the world and walking home to my lack-luster apartment, making a life for myself in china. i was learning where every bus went, memorizing the stops and what they meant in chinese. i was learning how to read all the road signs and even understand the programming on the televisions in the bus.

i was slowly becoming accustomed to the plucked chickens in shopping bags with their feet sticking out, the ticket lady on the bus yelling out the next stop, the driver encouraging us to all cram in there so that he could fit a few more passengers, make a few more yuan. i had become accustomed to the walk home, past the same road-side food vendors, the strawberry lady, over those same tiled sidewalks, to our large green metal door with no knobs.

on the occasion i could grab a seat, i would sit next there and watch the city slide by and realize that this place had become familiar, had become home. it was so far from where i’d started, and it was just kind of random that i’d even ended up there, although i couldn’t really imagine being anywhere else.

i guess sometimes it’s a little crazy for me to look back and remember that was my home. i laughed there and cried there and survived winter there and met people who will forever change my life. i dived into a profession i never thought i’d be good at and made friends with many, many people from all walks of life and countries i’d never visited, who taught me more than they will ever know.

and the sight of these new busses here in hawaii brings all these thoughts back.

moment

once upon a time someone asked me what the best moment of my life had been.

he told me that his had been on the streets of some city in europe at night and the lights were shining off the rain on the cobblestones and music was playing like that in movies, or something beautiful and rich and poetic like that. the kind of place i’d never been able to afford or had the opportunity to visit.

and his question, followed by that answer, stumped me. i didn’t know what my moment was.

recently i was on the other side of the island with my friend jaime. it was almost sunset and we decided to pull over at a beach and wait for it, because we had nowhere better to be, or anything else to do. and we ended up at this beach that i used to visit when i lived there.

it’s not the kind of beach they make post cards out of. there’s a big parking lot and a wall and no sand, just some rocks that the water laps up against. there’s a little dock area where rowing teams meet and set up their canoes. the waves aren’t big or scary so many people kayak or paddle surf there.

i lived in an apartment close to this beach for about a month when i first moved to hawaii. i wasn’t working yet, so i’d spend my morning walking to the library or the bank or the grocery store. i’d come home and make banana pancakes for lunch and spend the afternoon at the pool reading books and cooling off by swimming laps. in the evening i’d often walk to the beach.

and somehow, at that beach, God told me i would be just fine. somehow the mixture of sunset and the sea and the breeze blowing through my hair convinced me that i wasn’t as alone as it sometimes seemed, that i was meant to be and to be here. and it wasn’t a singular event, but every time i went there, this peace would fill me and i’d go home and make pasta for dinner and ice cream for dessert and go to bed and sleep without all the frenetic worrying and what-if’s that will and have and do keep me awake.

so jaime and i went to this beach and as i pulled the car into a parking spot right next to the wall by the ocean, it caught me off guard. it took me back to a simpler time and place when this whole island was new and unknown and i knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Someone was taking care of me and i should not fret, everything would work out just fine.

all of a sudden i couldn’t speak, there was no way to explain to her what this place is to me. how deeply this singular spot on the globe means to me.

if you ask me tomorrow what the best moment of my life has been, where that place is that has changed me, i will tell you. it’s that beach in hawaii kai that isn’t really a beach. it’s that place where i can stand with my feet in the water and know deeply, beyond all shadow of a doubt, that i should not worry, all will be well.

wo jiao automan

(four years ago today we met trace for the first time)

when we received my brother trace he came with a shopping bag full of things: a fast-food sandwich, a boiled egg, some clothes, dried seaweed and his favorite toys. he clung to his toy gun for days. he even slept with it (and me. i had never slept with a gun before.)

by day two we knew that his guns weren’t just any guns. they were automan guns. everyday we learned more about automan. we bought automan dvds and we watched them together for comfort when he remembered that his foster mama and baba were gone. when he forgot that he missed them, he would shoot us as we cowered behind beds, chairs and suitcases and he would act out all of automan’s moves. when trace came to us, he was wearing a blue automan shirt. several months after he came home, he showed us how in his referral picture, he was wearing his favorite automan outfit.

when we got to guangzhou trace would run around the island with his gun or his sword- or a chopstick, or a water bottle, or a tree branch- anything that could be a weapon. all the parents of docile infant girls would look on in awe as he ran around wearing his automan mask, combating the grim forces of evil that were sure to be lurking behind every tree or stroller, my mom and i four steps behind, chatting like this was perfectly normal.

*

it was a chilly march morning. a pollution filled haze mixed with a thick, cool fog enveloped shamian island. the keepers of the big trinket tables were out, enjoying a quiet morning under the palm trees, basking in the smell radiating from the 7-11 food warmers. one of the women called out to trace: “ni hao! ta jiao shenme?” (hello, what’s your name).

“wo jiao automan,” (my name is automan) he answered without skipping a beat.

i smiled as she laughed. this was trace. wherever these two american women took him, he would be just fine. he was automan, and he could- and would- overcome anything that came his way.

glorious

glorious.

it’s a pretty loaded word. a lot of pressure. there are very few moments in life, very few things you come across, that really deserve the title. but for one evening at sunset at kailua beach i think we found it.

the weather was chilly and the wind was blowing (it was december afterall) so we wore our sweaters and wrapped up in our beach towels and danced in the waves and rapidly realized that towels were meant to be capes. and capes, much like your hair, will float in the wind.

and you will dance and jump and do karate in the waves because that, my friends, is what life is about.

coming back

i got out of the habit of blogging. big time.

it’s not that nothing note-worthy has happened- many things have. it’s not that i don’t have any stories to share from the past year-plus- there are oh so many. sometimes it’s just difficult to rediscover your voice.

and where do you start, how do you relate, 10 months of china, 2 months of home, 7 months back in hawaii, trying to re-start this life you had when every single thing that you thought you knew is different now?

because nothing, not one single thing, has turned out the way you thought it would.

but somehow i can’t help but know that everything will be ok. and someday, i’ll find the words to tell these stories. and i think that day is coming very soon.

stay tuned.

it was a dark & stormy night

it's raining outside.

thundering and lightningning and the wind is blowing.

it doesn’t do that too much here.

i love it when it does.

storms are awesome. not just their display of the strength of God and the beauty of the lightning and the way they make all things new, but there’s this kind a feeling of togetherness or strength or comfort. what is more comforting than laying in your warm bed as the storm rages outside?

i think sometimes i need to know that i will be safe, that i will survive and conquer and be better, and a storm does this. i will take comfort in the simple things i have and ride it out, and when it’s over there will be this new beauty and appreciation.

and when the storm is over, we will emerge, battered (maybe) but better, knowing that if we can face life during the storm, we can thrive even more so under clear skies.