Where's Aslan? THERE HE IS

We have two cats.  One of the cats is named Aslan. The other is Earl Grey. Like the tea. Anyways, sometimes when I come home, they are pretty easy to find. Sleeping on the bed, sleeping on the porch. You know, typical places that cats sleep in.

One time, Aslan walked into my room. I saw him do it, but I didn't care. Just figured he was gonna sleep in there and come out later. That night, I go into my room assuming he's not in there anymore. It was pretty cold, and I wanted some socks. So, I reach in my sock drawer. Aslan FLIES out of there! Homie had maneuvered his way in and had been chilling in my sock drawer all day!

Yesterday, we were looking for Aslan. Where's the first place I look? In the crevices of my room of course. I didn't have to look too far this time. the first things I saw were 2 furry paws sticking up out of my suitcase!

                                       CAN YOU BREATHE IN THERE BUDDY????

Physical Touch: SEA Style

The Way They Roll... 

Sometimes, my friends don't make any sense. Ya know what? I'm sure the feeling is mutual. I probably do some retarded things that make them think... where did this white alien come from? 

Here, it isn't appropriate to hug people. And not just the opposite sex, but friends as well! This is torture to me. I really like hugs. And a hug is my way of sealing the friendship. While hugs are a "No No," holding hands and linking arms is totally ok. As well as placing your hand on a person's thigh. Ha ha ha. 

Example 1:

I went to a party a few weeks ago. It was the strangest party I've ever been to. They had a tent set up. Under the tent, there were about 4 beds. Yes, BEDS. Each bed was for a dead ancestor. Maybe a grandfather or great grandmother. Their pictures hung from the bed frame. Money hung from the posts on the bed. Many pillows were on the beds as well as snacks, flowers, blankets, and clothes. All of these offerings are necessary for the afterlife in their eyes. When you arrive at the party, you give some money to these sweet old ladies that line the floor in front of the beds. They, in return, say a blessing over you and give you pepsi and crackers. Bizzare, I know.

Anyways!!!!! Next, you go sit at a table and eat a meal. The most nerve racking thing at these events is the staring. People are watching your every move, and you know it. No discretion here. So, different locals come cycling through. The bold ones at least. They take turns sitting with the foreigners and talking about how different we are,  skin, weight, marriage status, etc.

This one middle-aged lady came and sat by me for a long long time. She was a chatter-box. That's for sure. After one or two sentences, she grabbed my leg. It wasn't a vice grip or anything, but it certainly un-nerved me a little bit. And it wasn't a temporary touch. The hand lingered. For at least 30 minutes.

Example 2:

My friends like to link arms with me. This is OK. Kind of strange, but manageable. But the hand holding? I'm having to warm up to this. I told them, in my culture, if people see you holding hands with someone other than an old person or small child, they think you love love love that person. Kiss them and everything. They just said.... Ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh! But, then they said to me, it's not like that here. When they hold hands with their friends, it means nothing but that they care for their friend. In some ways, it's more innocent here. In the USA, we're robbed this innocent display of affection because of what society thinks. 

Think about it in this light: As children, we hold hands with other children. We hold hands with adults. We may even hold hands with strangers. And then, something happens when we start to get older. We're told to not hold hands anymore. All of a sudden, it means that you want to sleep with that person. But really? Really, you probably just want to show your friend that you care about them. Keep those child-like intentions. It's just a thought. Something to consider. Something I'm having to consider because I live HERE now, and that's how they roll here. Different, yes. Wrong? I really don't think so. 

1,000 Steps

This Saturday, it was my room-mate's 39th birthday. She wanted to do something fun, so we decided to climb Pu Keng Mountain. It's one of the tallest mountains in the province. We piled up in the van with some local friends and headed to the mountain in the morning. Now, I knew it wasn't going to be some easy hike. So, I put on some tennis shoes, leggings, shorts, and a sporty shirt. Plus a hat. This attire means that Holli means business. I've got my backpack and water bottle. Ate some eggs, got my protein, and I'm ready to roll.

My room-mate was dressed similarly. Then? Our local friends show up. They look really cute. Cute, dressy tops. Jeans, cute shoes, and bedazzled hair clips. My first thought was... Well, this should be interesting once they start climbing.

On to the mountain! The mountain looked so mysterious and intimidating from the car. You couldn't see how far up it went into the sky because of the mist and clouds. We found the path and started our journey. Up, up, up. Slowly but surely. Up over 1,000 steep concrete steps to the top! At this point, my cute little friends weren't feeling so cute anymore. He he he!

They had signs for a "secret tunnel" and a cave near the top. In the Vietnam War, people lived in these tunnels and caves while the bombs were exploding around them outside. While we were climbing, we could see huge craters in the ground from bombs that had exploded in the past. It was fascinating to walk through this tunnel and the cave... Just to imagine how people ate and slept in such damp, dark places while the world outside was caving in.

Anyways! At the top of the mountain, the mist had cleared away. You could see out for miles! Rice fields, other mountains, small towns and villages in the distance. Wow. I know that it might sound cliche, but if you can see something like that and not think that God himself created it, then I wonder how you can believe in anything at all. True beauty.

At the end of the day, I had jello legs and slept in my hammock for a while.
If you can't seem to find something beautiful and good in this world, then climb to the top of a mountain and look around. The world won't seem so big and scary anymore. And you'll think... There is something more to this life. Something beautiful still exists.

Blisters and Backaches

Well! I certainly had an interesting day this past Sunday.

On Saturday, one of my favorite students and soccer players asked me to go to her farm with her. I told her I'd go and wanted to see what it was like. I got up early on Sunday morning and went to her house. Her family has 8 kids. We were all piled up in a truck. Haha! Pretty interesting experience in itself.

They had a pile of chopped off grass stalks in the back of the truck (along with half of her family). So, I asked what they were going to do with those. She told me we were going to plant them. I'm thinking... Oh, Ok. How hard can it be? Just stick some grass stalks into the ground and call it a day, right? Then I asked her how long we were going to be there. When she answered with "All day long," I began to doubt myself and wonder what I'd gotten into. There was no turning back at this point.

Next stop? The market. You gotta have something for later to eat. She and I got out of the truck and went to purchase some things. She said to me, "Do you like fish soup?" And I just told her I'll eat whatever she eats. We ventured to the back of the market where they have all these buckets full of fish, eel, and frogs. Alive. And picked up a couple of fish in a bag. Eventually, they stopped moving...

To the FARM! When I say farm, you're probably thinking of some nice little red barn and fences with chickens and pigs inside. Stalls with horses. Maybe a pond with some ducks. Meeeee toooooo. I thought this too. I was so incredibly wrong.

We turned off onto this really bumpy dirt road and stopped at a shack, got some hoes and shovels, and drove to the next bamboo hut thingy. And I took a look at the "field." Fallen trees everywhere. No gate or ladder to get over the barb wired fence. Just some tree branches to climb over. Thus began my first day in my life doing intense manual labor for 8 hours. FOR FREE... Haha. With small hoes and shovels, we plowed out rows of dirt and planted the entire truck full of grass stalks (which are itchy). We ate fish soup as a family outside on top of leaves. Apparently this is a make-shift picnic table. And we sat together squished into a hut and listened to the dad tell stories while it rained. Never in my life could I have experienced a day like this in the USA. I went home with a sore body and blistered hands and crashed at 8pm.

Experiencing life here makes me all the more thankful.
I've always had food on my plate, and my baby soft hands have never known such work.
Count your blessings...

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Culture Shock.

So far, I've posted pretty positive things on this Blog. And, I have had some cool, fun experiences here. But, I just want to write a little bit about the difficulties of living here. It's not all glorious.

I'm 22 years old. I just graduated college almost 1 year ago. And here I am, little small-town Southern me, across the globe. What on earth did I get myself into? This is the question that I ask myself from time to time. It comes in waves and phases. As of late, I've had a heavy dose of culture shock!

MINDSET

Here, people like to laugh things off. If something bad happens, laugh about it. If you feel awkward or embarrassed, laugh. If you're angry, laugh. If you lose, laugh. SAVE FACE. Do whatever it takes to save face. Even if you have to lie. Save face for yourself and your family no matter what! This is pretty much opposite of USA culture. Yeah, I'm sure of it. In the USA, people teach you in school to speak your mind, be yourself, and take a stand for what you feel is right. Man, that'll earn you nothing but a friendless life here. But guess what? I'm not in Kansas anymore, guys. This is life for the next year and 8 months. And some days, the differences in mindset are not so noticeable. But some days, they do.

TOPICS

What do you usually talk about when you meet someone? A foreigner specifically. Maybe you talk about the weather first. What the weather is like at the moment. Then maybe you'll ask them what the weather is like where they are from. What's your name? Where are you from? Do you have any brothers and sisters? Where did you go to school? What did you major in? Etc. You know, small talk. I miss this. Haha! I never thought I'd say that. But, I miss small talk. It surely beats the pants off of being asked if you have a husband before anything else. Where do you work? Do you have a boyfriend then? How much money do you make? BAH! This is so so so different. If I come back and ask extremely personal questions the first day I meet you, then I apologize. But here, it's normal! A new normal.

MEAL TIME

Let's gather round the table, give thanks, and each have our own personal plate of food to devour. We can sit in chairs and have a grand ole time. This is America. He he he. You may be thinking... well how could it be so different where you are? It so is. First of all, everyone sits on the floor to eat. Either you sit on the floor or sit on a wicker/bamboo stool that's maybe 6 inches off of the ground. It's like being on the ground, but not. You may get your own spoon. Maybe. And you may get your own chopsticks. It just depends on the food offered. All of the food is sitting on the table. You just take bites of whatever you want. That's how it goes down brothas and sistas! And, there are no drinks... but there may be one glass. You down the drink in the glass and pass it to the next person. Same glass, 5-10 different folks. Don't worry. It's just building your immune system. That's all.

My sweet room-mate diagnosed me with culture shock tonight. He he. Yeah, she's right. It's when the differences just start to grate on your nerves, make you angry, sad, or whatever. Really, they make you feel like you're going insane. So, I wanted to let you in on a little sneak peak of my culture shock. This is real life: dealing with at least one of these differences on a daily basis. And this is just a small sampling of them. I'll spare you the gore and detail. Just know that after 4 months, it has hit me.

But, in the words of on of my best friends, Hope, "I'll be fine!"

The real issue lies in the fact that I copped a quarter of my thumb off today. Don't trim your bushes with a switchblade knife.

THUMBS UP SHAWTY!