This past Friday, 4 postcards showed up in my mailbox. And then on Saturday, another came. All I have to say, is that postcards from around the world beat a bill any day of the week. 🙂

Card # 1

Tallinn is the capital of Estonia. Looks pretty. I really like the old buildings. So medieval. I’d bet money that the sky in this particular photo isn’t real, though. Take a closer look. What do you think? I can’t figure out why someone would photoshop a fake sky into a postcard.

I found it funny that she didn’t spell out China all the way. Interesting stamp, too. I imagine I’ll be getting many history lessons in the near future. I’ll have to look up his name to see what he did in order to be deserving of a stamp.

Card # 2

Mikkeli, Finland.

Anna-Lisa wrote with a very interesting pen.

Some letters are dark blue while others are light blue.

Is that a moth or a little butterfly?

Card # 3

Sibel lives in Manisa, Turkey, but this postcard is representing Uchisar, Nevsehir – Turkey. Sibel was the first person to receive a postcard from me through Postcrossing. She wanted to send me a postcard in return, so I gave her my address. Turkey seems like a really cool place to visit. I’ll have to put it on my places to go before I die.

I like it when postcards have a lot of writing on them. I’ve always wanted to fly in a hot air balloon. Had Phil and I had the money to do it in Yangshuo, China, we so would have.

Card # 4

I was expecting one postcard, not two from Sibel. I was pleasantly surprised.

All of these postcards are making me antsy. I’ll need to travel somewhere soon.

Card # 5

This fighter jet came all the way from Dayton, Ohio, from Emily. It’s actually her photo, not something she bought. This is something I am going to start doing soon – taking and sending my own postcards. I’ve got over 5,000 to choose from just from spending a year in China.

This is the first card I have received from America. I doubt it will be the last. Something like 18% of Postcrossing users are from America.

One evening, in Fuyang, Phil and I were invited to attend one of Phil’s student’s birthday party. For the life of me, up until 5 minutes ago, I couldn’t remember the name of this student. I’m sure that you don’t care, but it was about to drive me mad. I hate when I can’t remember stupid stuff. Anyway, the student’s name was Alan, it was his 16th or 17th birthday, I can’t recall, and he wanted his two new foreign friends to celebrate with him. We gladly accepted the invitation, of course. Alan was a good student and actually seemed like he wanted to be our friend, unlike many others who just wanted to tote us around and show us off like we were an exotic breed of dog.

Alan told us to meet him at the school gate after class. He didn’t live too far away, so we all decided just to walk to his parent’s house. When he finally got to the school gate, he looked very troubled and sad. Apparently, he had somehow lost the 200 yuan(RMB) that his parents had given him to use at KTV – Karaoke TV – later that night. He thought someone in his class had taken it, but since he didn’t have a clue who, there wasn’t a whole lot we could do about it. We offered to give him the money, but he politely declined. Some of his fellow classmates, who were also going to be in attendance at his party, were going to help him out. He made us promise not to tell his parents.

We first stopped by his grandmother’s house – at least that is who I think it was. She was old and they seemed related. We sat there for a while basically staring at each other. She didn’t speak any English, and our Chinese was limited – conversation was almost impossible. Alan translated a little for us. She gave us some tea, and when we were done, we walked a few more blocks to his house.

We arrived to find Alan’s father cooking in the kitchen. If I remember correctly, his father was a cook in a local restaurant, but don’t quote me on that. His parents, like his grandmother, spoke no English – besides hello. They greeted us with huge, happy smiles on their faces. Phil and I sat down on the couch and started sucking on some sugar cane that we saw cut up in a bowl on the coffee table. I always expected sugar cane to be more, well, sugary, but this kind wasn’t. I wonder what they call a coffee table in Chinese since many of them don’t drink coffee. Hrm, I never thought of that before now. 🙂

Phil had brought his computer with him so that he could play some American music for everyone. Music always makes a party better, didn’t ya know? Well, the music that Phil played was a bit different than what they were all used to. A lot of it was harder than the typical music played on Chinese radio. If you’ve been to China, you know exactly what I am talking about. If you haven’t, most of the music, at least what I heard, is very soft and slow. I’d say a lot of their songs have a rather strong lulling effect. I tried picking out some softer music for them, and they seemed to like that a bit more.

After Alan’s father finished cooking and had all of the dishes placed on the table, both of Alan’s parents said goodbye and left. I was very confused. I asked Alan why his parents were leaving, and he said something like his parents didn’t want to bother us. Phil and I shrugged our shoulders and started digging into the feast that lay before us. All and all, it was an okay dinner. I wasn’t particularly fond of any one dish. Like at most birthday parties, the one thing I couldn’t stop thinking about was the birthday cake.

Birthday cakes in China are a little different from what us westerners are used to. The cake is more spongy, and the icing just tastes different. I don’t know exactly how to explain it. Also, a lot of the cakes come with fruit on it. Is it good? Yeah, it’s alright, but I still prefer the western cake a little more.

Well, soon after we polished off our table of food, someone brought the cake out of the refrigerator. In Fuyang, every time you bought a cake, you got a cool ass Lotus candle. (I’ve got a video of the one that was on my cake. I’ll post that soon.) It starts out closed up like a bud. A wick sticks out of the top. You light the wick and when it burns down, it lights all of the other wicks on fire. There are wicks on each of the petals. When all of the wicks catch a flame, It opens up like a flower blooming and sings Happy Birthday to you. It’s absolutely awesome and looks very pretty with all of the lights off. I haven’t seen anything like that here in the States before. Well, the flower bloomed, we sang, and the when started to cut the cake.

There is a tradition in my family, or rather, a cruel joke. Whenever we eat something that is mushy, like cake, ice cream, or mashed potatoes, we like to get a little bit silly. I’m sure everyone reading has probably seen it done. It goes like this. You hold the mushy substance close to your nose, smell it, make a face like it smells like something died, pick a target, and have someone come smell it for you to make sure that it really smells as bad as you say. When they lean in for the sniff you shove said substance up their nose. Laugh. Laugh. Laugh.

Well, more or less, that is what I told Alan, who had just cut himself a huge piece of cake. For a second he let the words settle in and then without any hesitation, turned and shoved the entire plate into one of his party guest’s face.

I was shocked. Phil was shocked. Everyone, especially the person that just had cake smashed into his face was shocked. And then war broke out.

The boy that had just been creamed, picked up what was remaining of the cake and threw it into Alan’s face. Alan took what was left and threw it at one the girls in attendance. Her silky black hair turned white and she started to scream. She retaliated and threw her piece back – not caring who it hit as long as it hit someone. Cake was flying everywhere. It was madness. All I could do was laugh and watch. I had tears rolling down my face. The apartment had been trashed.

“Oh, his parents are going to kill us, ” was all that I could think.

This must have gone on for several minutes before it finally calmed down. The girls had locked themselves in the bathroom – 1) to protect themselves from further attack and 2) to clean themselves up. They hadn’t looked so hot going in.

I had been smart, and saved my piece of cake. When all was said and done, I ate it.

We made sure to clean up the place a little bit. I really didn’t want his parents coming home to see what the Americans had let unfold in their absence. I’m sure they would never have been able to understand. I made a mental note to never tell a person who didn’t speak English as a first language my family’s little joke ever again. 🙂 I found it funny that he skipped the whole, “Hey, smell my cake,” and just threw it. You really had to be there. It was crazy.

Once we had everything cleaned up, we left the apartment, hopped in a cab, and went to a local KTV to sing for the next several hours. Nothing else crazy happened that evening, besides seeing a woman fall flat on her ass as she walked over a bridge. It was old and slippery – made of marble or something like it. Poor thing broke her tail-bone I think.

And that is the story of the birthday cake. The moral of this story? Be very careful if anyone ever ask you to smell something. 🙂

I knew it would happen one day, but really, I didn’t think these sort of feelings would surface for a good long while. If you ever read My Chinese Headache Part 1 and 2, and many of you must have in order to make them my top two posts of all time, then you know why I didn’t think I would miss China, for a while – anyway.

Let me explain.

I don’t miss the crap I went through to get back home. Not in the least. Yeah, it made me wiser and stronger , and all that jazz, but I never want to have to go through something like that ever again. Ever. Nor do I miss the way I was treated by some of the people in charge of me, mainly Richard Guo, AKA Yuli Guo. That man is the Anti-Christ. My blood boils when I think of him. And I don’t particularly miss my first batch of students – except one or two, and I’ve mention them before. I don’t miss the dirt or the pollution either, but who does? Oh, and the lies. All of the lies and deceit were enough to make me go mad.

What I do miss . . .

I miss the daily excitement. Everyday was a new one in China. I could never expect the same thing to happen twice once I walked out my door. There was always a new obstacle, a new challenge. Yeah, it wasn’t always easy, but they sure made life interesting. And if I ever just wanted to get my heart pumping, all I ever needed to do was hop in a taxi and ride across town. A taxi ride in China was like riding a roller coaster, except without all the steep inclines and loops.

I really miss the street food, even though I’m sure some of it made me ill – very ill. I can forgive the street vendors though because they made some very tasty, cheap snacks. I had some awesome fried banana in Beijing. God, that stuff was tastebudalicious. Yes, I just made a new word. Also, I really came to love corn on a stick. I can’t think of a better way to spend 5 yuan. Well, maybe 5 yuan on lamb sticks. I could spend 5 yuan all day on that. There are many more street snacks, but if I went into detail about all of them – you’d be here all day. 🙂

Cheap DVDs – even if some of them didn’t work quite right – were awesome. I will never forget the hours I spent watching season after season of Smallville, Star Trek: The Next Generation, and House – just to name a few. To watch those back home would have cost me a small fortune, unless of course I pirated them, but I would never do that. 🙂

I miss being the center of attention. Yes, I’m an attention whore – hate me. Even though, at times it could be a bit annoying(all the hellos and what not), it was kinda cool to feel famous. I think I had my picture taken a few million times and I now have a few more crease lines on my cheeks to prove it. Hehe. On one occasion, someone even asked for my autograph. I’ll never understand that one, but hey, it was cool. And I can’t count how many free dinners I had in China. When I was taken to a banquet or even a simple dinner at a restaurant, I felt like a Queen. I have never seen so much food.

I miss how complete strangers would welcome me into their home and offer me tea and sometimes fruit, just because they could. Half of the time we couldn’t understand each other, but we didn’t have to.

So, I imagine one day, Phil and I will have to go back. I don’t know when that will be, though. And hopefully, China won’t change so drastically that we won’t be able to recognize it when do.

Ok, I know that having things made in China and other countries like it can save a business money, but sometimes someone just needs to draw the line.  Let me explain.

The other day, Phil and I were walking through Kroger – a southern grocery store chain. Lately, we’ve been buying the Simply brand of juices because they’re so good, but they also can cost a bit, too. So, Phil decided to save a few pennies  this time around and bought one of the other brands – I can’t remember what brand it was off the top of my head and I don’t think that it was a Kroger brand. I could be wrong, so don’t quote me on that.

Anyway, he picked it up, stared at it for a second and said, “I don’t think so.”

I rolled my eyes because I thought Phil was saying no to it because it looked like it was old or had been tampered with or something like that. He does this with almost everything he buys – especially frozen or cold food items. I would say that this is because we spent a year in China and we had to do this regularly, but he’s done it for years.  He’s eccentric.

“It looks fine, Phil. Buy it,” I said.

“Nope,” he replied, “it’s from China.”

“What do you mean it’s from China. It’s juice.” I looked closer at the bottle, and sure enough, this is what I read: Concentrate: Product of China. “Well, I’ll be, it is from China. Since when did they start putting that stamp on stuff?”

Even after I argued that it was just the juices of a stupid apple and that he should buy it anyway, Phil still refused. He said something to the affect that we weren’t in China anymore, and that we had a choice on whether we wanted to eat or drink something that was from China.

“But we didn’t die from eating apples in China!” I exclaimed.

“I don’t care,” he replied, and that was the end of that. Back on the shelf it went.

All I have to say, is that it is a sad day when America can’t freaking juice their own apples. I mean, really, how expensive can that be?!

And that is my rant for the day.

Phil called me and told me to check all of the smiley faces I had put on my previous posts. What in the world had he done to them, I wondered. And this is what I found.

🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂             🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

🙂 🙂 🙂

🙂

I thought it was pretty cute. Now, he needs to go and make all of the other facial expressions. I really want to see an angry Chinese one. That would probably be amusing.

I don’t think I ever intended for my office to turn into a Chinese office, but slowly, that is what is happening. Not that that is a bad thing or anything. I don’t know why I didn’t take a picture of my other Chinese things I have on my wall and what not, but I will later. I’ll take my tripod in one day and take a panorama shot of my office. That should turn out pretty neat, I think.

I don’t have much to say today, but I thought I would at least let you see the two things my Aunt Beverly gave me a week or so ago to help decorate my office.

Bamboo.

I’ve thought about buying a whole lot of these and turning my office into a jungle of sorts.

I thought this little fountain was cool, but the batteries died on me – twice. I think I’m going to have to buy one that plugs into the wall or something if I want the white noise of trickling water calming me as I work. Even though the water is not running right now, it still looks cute on my credenza.

About this time last year, I wrote a similar post about my blog visits exploding for no apparent reason. I usually average maybe 20 visits a day, sometimes more, sometimes less. This morning though, when I checked to see how many people had been coming to my blog recently, I was shocked to see my graph. I mean, look at it.

Usually, it is my page views that go crazy(as you can see), and that usually has to do with Phil tinkering with my blog. Phil didn’t tell me that he was tinkering, so I have no freaking idea why, on the 19th of March, my visits went from a normal 25 to a staggering 88. ShinyStat, because it is free, doesn’t give me a lot of information, so I really don’t know who exactly came to my blog and why. I don’t even know if they people that came stayed for point five seconds or if they stayed to see what my blog had to hold. If any one knows of a good, free, and accurate counter out there – I would appreciate it if you pointed me in the right direction.

Key word searches are always high for Fairly Odd Parents. Apparently, I have one of the only pictures of Mr. Crocker, and when any one looks for anything to do with the Fairly Odd Parents, it comes up in the images section. If I started writing about Fairly Odd Parents all the time, I imagine my blog would short circuit due to the amount of traffic I would receive.

Recently though, people have been having a field day looking up information on squatting toilets. It made me laugh when I read one of the key word searches – “what part of china have squat toilets”. I thought it would have been more appropriate if they had asked which part of China didn’t have squat toilets. Heh. 🙂

And I know that people look up weird stuff on the internet, but when I saw this key word search- “pictures of women mowing lawns” – I could only imagine what the person wanted to find. I don’t think the picture I have was what that person had in mind. At least, I don’t think it was.

One day, while I was walking home from Yong Xing Middle School in Fuyang, China, a student(not mine, I don’t think) stroke up a broken English conversation with me. She asked me a few questions about America, how I liked China and if I spoke any Chinese. I had been practicing my Chinese for a while and was pretty sure that I could at least say that I was a teacher in Chinese.

I cleared my throat and said, “Wo shi laoshi.” (I think that is how you spell everything.)

Well, as soon as I had finished, the girl crinkled her nose, looked at me, and said, “You are a mouse?” I busted out laughing. I apparently hadn’t been practicing hard enough. 🙂

“No,” I said, “a teacher.”

“Oh,” she said, “laoshi.” She said laoshi very clear and slow, as though emphasizing the correct way to pronounce it.

Before long, we reached the Hangzhou bus station, and we said our goodbyes. I was surprised to find out that she lived in Hangzhou, and that she took the bus to school everyday. Hangzhou is about an hour away from Fuyang. I guess Yong Xing Middle School is just a really good school. I can’t think of any other logical reason a middle school student would travel that far.

It has been a long time since I have been a teacher in YongXing Middle School in Fuyang, but every once in a while, I will get an email from one of my students. The one below is from Tiffany, a student I’ve mentioned before – here. Anyway, it made me smile, and I thought I would sure it with you all.

Dear Gabe ,

Do you remenber me? I’m your student in YongXing Middle School.I’m now a senior school student .do you know FUYANG MIDDLE SCHOOL?I’m now in this school .It’s been a long time.Now our foreign teacher is a black from the US.I think your class is better than hers.Her accent always remind me of you.I miss you…..

Where are you now?I’m looking forward to hear from you.^^

yours Tiffany

I’ve asked for the new teacher’s email. I would love to chat with her and find out what has been happening in the school since I left and how she has dealt with the students. I heard that the teachers that came right after us didn’t stay very long. I don’t know the reason, but I’m sure it had something to do with the students and their rotten behavior or something that the Director of Foreign Affairs, Mr. Zhou, did to make them mad has hell. Either one is very probable. I know that both of them happened to me.

Well, I’ll be putting up the picture of my office soon, as well

In China, I was sick more or less every other week. Sometimes every week. It was just a part of being in China, I think, and getting used to Chinese germs. I never really got used to it, but I did become less and less surprised each time I came down with something.

I’ve been back in the States for five months now, and (knock on wood here) I haven’t had any sort of sickness that has lasted more than say, a full day – if even that. I no longer have the sort of bathroom issues that plagued me in China either. That was probably the worst thing about China(besides Richard Guo) – me nearly shitting myself to death every other week. I wish I could say that I was exaggerating . . . okay, to a point I am, it wasn’t that bad(death and what have you) all the time, but it did happen a lot and it was never, ever fun. Also, since I’ve been home, I haven’t really even had a sore throat or a cold. Now there have been times since I’ve gotten back that I could feel the beginning of such sicknesses, but nothing has ever stayed with me or progressed to the point where I needed a doctor or lots of over the counter drugs. I’ve been healthier in these last 5 months than I ever was in the last year and a half.

I have a theory.

My American immune system has been overthrown, and has been replaced by a whole battalion of Chinese martial arts fighters. They are my new front line. If they see a cold coming they chop it to bits and leave the carcass to rot in the sun. They laugh in the face of the American germs. “Ha, ha,” they say,”is that all you have?! Bring it on, I dare you!”

Just yesterday, my little Chinese fighting immune system took down a virus that totally conquered my mother and very nearly my brother, as well as most of my immediate family. I woke up with a slight tickle in my throat and my head felt heavy. I was sure that I was going to get sick. I radioed my guys and told them to hop to, and they did. Throughout the day, there were times when I was starting to feel up to par and then that tickle would start to come back. It never stayed long, though. I think they may still be fighting as I write this now, but the battle seems to be almost over. And who has won? Well, my Chinese battalion, of course.

I hope they stick around for a while. I like the fact that because my immune system fought so much evil crap in China that it now is less likely to be overcome by the bacteria running rampant in Columbia. Of course, that is just my theory, and I may be way wrong. And yes, I know, my imagination has a way of running away with itself sometimes.

And finally, like that crazy, cracked out Amy Winehouse says in her song about not going to rehab, my immune systems says the same about any germs trying to infiltrate my body – “No, no, no!”