WELCOME.....This blog is for: 1) Chinese who want to improve their skills in English and 2) all others who want to share experiences they've had traveling in China.....I've been tutoring mainland students by computer for years.....They send emails weekly and I return edited versions......It's all free......In the process we've learned more about each other - our similarities, our differences.....So be brave and send a comment about the articles and photos you'll see here and then send some of your own.....Don't worry about the grammar; it can be smoothed out, and when the piece is ready, it'll be published right here. Hope to hear from you soon. (jgron_34209@yahoo.com) If, on the other hand, you'd like to Learn Chinese Online, click those three words. Mr G.
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View Article  A Letter to My Grandfather

(Written by a recent high school graduate in Beijing)

The soulful sound you’ve always loved of one of the classics being played on a violin, reminded me this morning of how happy you made all my childhood years.

When I was only three, you helped me learn to swim by bringing a deep plastic basin into the drawing room and teaching me how to blow bubbles and then lift my head for more air.  Although the water sometimes splashed on the floor and all over your clothes, I remember the sound of laughter that always occurred and how you helped me relax and build my confidence.

In my eighth year, I began taking special math classes, and you always rode alongside of me on your twenty-year-old black bicycle on the way to school, as you thought it was too far for me to go alone.  While I was studying there for four hours, you often rushed home to prepare our lunch.  You always said we were a team that was fighting on the same side; me on the front line and you hidden as part of the supply line.  We worked together in that way for four years.  

When I reached the age of 11, I began trying to improve my English.  I’d studied for 3 dark years in primary school with little improvement and knew I’d have to do better in middle school.  Mother found an elementary course called New Concepts and I attended the classes every evening from 6:30 to 9:30, but it wasn’t until you became involved that I started to make progress.

You told me to read the articles aloud every morning and would tap on the floor to help improve my pronunciation.  I tried hard to please you, as I regarded you as a kind of senior professor, and it worked; I began to love English.  I didn’t know until much later that you didn’t know a word of the language.

Now I’m 17 and have failed to do as well as I should have on the examination for entrance to a university.  I can’t abide the thought of attending a 2nd class university for four years and hope to study in Macau or in Canada or even the U.S.

However, when I have such thoughts, my old friend, I think of you and become hesitatnt….even feel a bit guilty. 

In my early memories of you, I remember the energy you brought to my life.  In later years, you tended to sit comfortably on your sofa.  A full bowl of noodles for your lunch was supplanted with a small bowl as the years passed, and the laughter you had enjoyed was replaced with a warm smile.

All the changes that were occurring gave me the conception that I was going in the opposite direction, and I wondered why….I wondered how that could be.

            Would you leave me?

            That was the question I always asked myself.

I wanted to find a place where I could take care of you forever – a place where the sky was always blue and the grasses always green.

            A place where there were no troubles…...

            Where no one died.

 

 

 

View Article  Advice from Someone with Firsthand Experience

(Written by a student in Beijing who was graduated from high school this year.)

             Advice From Someone with First-Hand Experience

          I went to see my uncle last night. His name is Qiang. That means “good” in Chinese.  It stands for vigor and power.  There’s a certain irony in having been so named, for Uncle Qiang’s life has been a bit of a disappointment for him, as he didn’t get a university education and has never been able to find suitable work.  He has changed jobs frequently and has had difficulty eking out a living.  Whenever I’m with him I see the hurt that he feels in his 40-year-old eyes.

          He works now as a projectionist in a small theater that holds only 100 people.  As his wages are low, he eats only sparingly and often goes hungry.  He lives in a small bedroom attached to the theater, and I was surprised to discover that he and the other workers have to shower in a public toilet. 

          When I arrived at the theater, there was still a mist over the city. It had been raining for a long time and was beginning to let up.  Some water puddled on the field in front of the cinema, and the overhead lamps gleamed.  A breeze slipped over my shoulder, and made me shiver.  There weren’t many people waiting to get in.  Perhaps it was the time, the rain, or the movie itself. 

          The tiny cinema is between two big restaurants, and I found myself looking through the crystal glass wall of one of them.  There appeared to be many wealthy ladies and gentlemen sitting at the tables. 

          After walking up the steps to the theater, I found myself in a small hall with a ticket counter, and I asked the cashier if Qiang was on duty.  He gave me a quick once-over and then placed a phone call and returned to his work. 

          A few minutes later, my uncle appeared.  He was dressed in a white T-shirt and gray trousers and didn’t look well.  He has always been introverted, but when he saw me, he quickened his steps and gave me a weak smile.  .

          We sat down by a table in a corner of the hall.

          “Good evening, my uncle!”

           “Good evening!”

          “Well, you must be surprised.”

          He nodded his head in agreement.   “How about your admission? Where will you go?”

           “I won’t know until August”.

           “The first bunch of universities has finished their selections.”

          “Yes. I wasn’t admitted by my first choice.  Their minimum score was 25 points higher than mine. 

          “Ouch!”   He dropped his eyes to the table for a moment and then said, “What is your second choice?”

          “Beijing University of Technology.”

          “That’s not bad.”  He still kept his eyes firmly on the table.

          “Do you understand that it’s quite a common university? It’s just not for me.  I can’t go there.  It’s not possible that it’s the right place for!  I shouldn’t have to go to a 2nd class university.  I worked very hard for 12 years to get a good grade on the national examination.  It’s terrible that I didn’t do better.  Such an awful choice would destroy my life.”

          My voice became louder and louder as I vented, and I was finally braying, as I lowered my head to my hands on the table and started to cry.  

          The movie had just ended, and as many people began leaving the hall, it became quite noisy.

          “Hu Zhaoxian,” said my uncle,  “you should remember that life is life, and plan is plan. They are quite different. There are always things in life that interfere with our plans.”

          He spoke slowly…thoughtfully…and all of it went into my ears even though we were sitting in the middle of so much chaos.  .

          “Forget all your troubles”, he said.  “Be yourself!” 

          And I heard myself respond with a “YES!”

 

 

 

View Article  A Mystery Solved

(Written by an anonymous Chinese woman) 

For almost 70 years, I’ve been affected by a story my mother told me when I was ten years old.  We spent more time together that year, as my father had just died and we tried to console each other.  Both of us would weep as we recalled our lives together before his death.  Mother told me often that I was the apple of his eye.

And one day she told me more.  She probably shouldn’t have for I’ve never forgotten what she said.  The story began with her telling me that a baby girl had been born to a family and the mother wanted to give her away, as she just didn’t like her.  When her husband discovered that she was looking for a family for the baby, however, he put a stop to the plan right away.  The baby was going to part of his family, he said, for he had loved her since the day she arrived.

Mother’s point in telling the story was to emphasize how much the father had loved the baby, but the shocking part of it came when mother told me that I was that baby.

It didn’t help in later years to learn that she had given away two other girls before my two brothers and my elder sister were born.

I’ve wondered so often in the years since then why she told me.  At only ten years of age, I must much too young to even think of asking.  I’ve tried to console myself with the thought that she probably preferred sons.  It wasn’t uncommon to give girls away in those days.

There wasn’t a monetary reason, for our family was well off.  An older sister had married the year before, and I had only two brothers, so there were just five of us living together.

During a recent visit to Shanghai, my brothers and sister told stories about family events in the past, and I related the one mother had told me.  They had never heard it before.  To them, it was unbelievable, but I told them that it definitely happened.  Mother had told me.

They said it didn’t make sense, as mother had loved me very much.  No one could explain why she had told me the story.   

My sister remembered the day that I was born.  When she entered mother’s room, she saw her using a hemp rope to rub my body.  That didn’t make sense to her, and she asked a midwife about it later.  The only answer she got was that it was because my body was white.  There was no explanation of the rope.   

She said that she hadn’t understood until recently, and my father had never understood because no one had told him. 

I looked at her – expecting her to continue – but she didn’t.  I suspected that I knew why it had been used and thought she was remaining quiet, as she didn’t want to hurt my feelings.       

She seemed to be changing the subject as she started to talk again.  She said that mother had expected to have a son after she had three daughters, and she finally had one, but he died of an infectious disease after six years.  She was very sad after that and cried day and night, as she said she couldn’t live without him.  My father took her to Shanghai to show her a good time, but nothing comforted her; she felt that the end of the world had come.  As a last resort, he moved the family out of his mother’s house into a home of their own.

Mother was religious in some ways, and felt that God had met all her desires when she had two sons in two years after they moved.  Soon after, however, the wind came out of her sails, for my father became very sick when the boys were three and four.  He had typhoid fever, and as she was very worried, she worked day and night to care for him.  That left very little time to look after the two boys.  It was fortunate that father got better for mother had felt that she couldn’t live without him. 

My sister went on to say that when I was born, she saw that my very white skin was different than other babies.  As she said that I thought to myself that I’ve never really been conscious of what color is usual for a newborn baby.  There was a superstition at that time that an ill-omened girl would bring disaster to a family.  Mother really didn’t want a baby that was white, especially since she had just experienced the loss of a son, and her husband had been very sick.  She was almost obsessed with the thought that disasters were coming in her life.

The hemp rope, therefore, was an answer to the whiteness.  Rubbing my body with it would change the color and eliminate the risk of incurring bad fortune.  If it didn’t, she thought she’d have to send me away.   

It was interesting to think that perhaps she had thought that I would bring her bad luck.  Though I’ve studied science, I’ve always been a bit superstitious, too, and have attributed his death to my bad fortune.  The idea of having misfortune has always been a part of my life.  To avoid having bad things happen, I’ve preferred being alone and have avoided as much as possible being in an airplane with members of my family. 

It’s so reassuring to have finally understood mother’s story.  There’s no need to talk about it any longer with members of my family.  It all happened a long time ago.  It’s best to forget it.  Mother was just the victim of her superstitious nature.  I’ll try hard to change so that I’ll not become a victim of mine. 

 

 

 

 

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