Inner Mongolia: the Beauty in Desolation

I am writing from Beijing tonight, sitting in the small courtyard of my hotel, the Cote Cour, watching the fish in the coy pond in front of me, lazily sipping green tea. The hotel is located in one of the city's hutongs, or traditional courtyard residences in the midst of a network of tiny alleys. My current temporary abode is quite the contrast to the space I inhabited just a few days ago.

This year, for the mid-autumn festival, I decided to follow my Beijing yoga teacher to Inner Mongolia for five days of practice, surrounded by a vast, windy landscape.

The wind outside our hotel, the Shangdu Lake Original Ecological Tourism Ranch.

To reach Inner Mongolia, I flew into Beijing, on a flight that was delayed by many hours, thus I arrived at 2:30 am, spent a couple of hours at Zhao's apartment, and boarded a van to drive six more hours to our yoga residence. The further outside Beijing that we drove, the more blue the sky, and the more desolate our surroundings became.

Pulling up to our ranch, the landscape looked like this:

When I first began posting photos on social media, my friend, Andy, saw where I was and asked if I had ever read Haruki Murakami's The Wind Up Bird Chronicles. I wrinkled my nose and responded, "I find Murakami writes riddles I just don't understand." But Andy persisted and told me more about the book, intriguing me enough to download a copy. I would soon find myself utterly involved with the characters in the book, and the way Murakami wrote of Mongolia.

In the first days of the yoga retreat, I found myself unsettled. Parts of the hotel were quite industrial, with exposed cement ceilings and cold floors. I felt like I was in a scene from The Shining. And I disliked it. I hate scary movies. And now, it seemed, I had traveled far and paid well to be part of one. Additionally, as I gazed out the window at the space beyond, there was nothing for the eye to grip onto.

Murakami got this.

"Sometimes, when one is moving silently through such an utterly desolate landspace, an overwhelming hallucination can make one feel that oneself, as an individual human being, is slowly coming unraveled. The surrounding space is so vast that is becomes increasingly difficult to keep a balanced grip on one's being."

The Wind Up Bird Chronicles, Haruki Murakami

The unsettled feelings that I had began to have physical manifestations. As soon as I had arrived at the hotel, I began having trouble sleeping, waking in the morning drenched in sweat, as I had finally fallen asleep at some midnight hour with a light on because I was too afraid to sleep in the dark. I mean, what the f? I live alone, I often travel alone, and yet I was spooked by this place.

I was determined, though, to get beyond the grand discomfort of it all. I did not want to simply wish my time away in Inner Mongolia, and miss the lessons the land had to offer. And so, I set to exploring further.

By day, I began to find beauty in the desolation.
Pictured here are my new friend Guy and I taking a slow run after lunch.

These tart berries were fun to pop in my mouth.

Here, it does feel like Nature's funeral. But then, there was more to it ...

The wind went howling through brittle branches. Leeeetttt goooooo, it seemed to bay. Chilled, I continued to listen. S u r r r e n d e e e r r r, it beseeched me.

slowly

slowly

slowly

I felt an opening ... into the vastness, into my yoga asanas, into myself.

And I continued to read.

"The point is, not to resist the flow. You go up when you're supposed to go up and down when you're supposed to go down. When you're supposed to go up, find the highest tower and climb to the top. When you're supposed to go down, find the deepest well and go to the bottom. When there no flow, stay still."

Wind Up Bird Chronicles, Haruki Murakami

Okay. Okeeeey, Murakami, I thought. I hear you. Or I think I hear you, because I think I get you, at least a little bit, but you still have do write these Murakamisms that are like wtf are you even saying, tho? But, yes, I'll flow or go high or low or whatever this landscape is asking of me.

And it did become true, that through the hours, I felt it -- the wonder, the awe that comes, paradoxically, with land so beautifully desolate.

On our last full day, after many hours of yoga practice, my body was saying get out and run. So I did.

As I made my way around the lake, I saw camels, which I did originally called llamas in a text to Mom and Dad because my brain is still in South America sometimes.

I also saw the following, which could be a scene right out of Wind Up Bird, which was cool. And unnerving. For real, Murakami, you're going to manifest in my reality? C'mon, though, man. Save me the chills, pleeaaaaase.

There's one thing to do to feel rooted after taking in such strange sights: An Inversion in the Wild.

On this last full day, on this long run, I began to regret that the trip was coming to an end. I supposed I had noted before, but I was here noting again, perhaps in a new way that if we are open to surrendering ourselves to our present reality, there is this capacity for incredible adaptation. While one day the wind and vast landscape felt unsettling to me, after some time, both became elements of my environment that I felt I could sit with for eternity.

The next day, on our final morning in Inner Mongolia, after a strong yoga practice, I stretched out onto the deck over the water.

I thought of my book, once again, for the final time on this trip.

"The sun would rise from the eastern horizon, cut its way across the empty sky, and sink below the western horizon. This was the only perceptible change in our surroundings. And in the movement of the sun, I felt something I hardly know how to name: some huge, cosmic love."

The Wind Up Bird Chronicles, Haruki Murakami

Lying under a bright sun that was settled into a blanket of blue, I felt ... the incredible lightness of being, and I thought, poetry, it seems, is something I'm destined to find everywhere.

Tonight, as my green tea has turned to a glass of red wine, I'm toasting Namaste to the divine souls that I met on this trip.

I very much thought someone said, "1, 2, 3, JUMP!" And yes, our trip included humans, two dogs, and a Brazilian bird. Obviously.

Quarantine is moved to the Baci Abode

Last night, at 11 pm, I was curled up in bed in my hotel quarantine, devouring another episode of Outlander on my iPad, eating square after square of a dark chocolate bar. The title of the episode (season 2, episode 6, for other fans out there) that I was viewing is “The Best Laid Schemes.” I feel like this is the theme of 2020 in many ways right now. It reminds me of a line from a Robert Burns’ poem entitled To a Mouse. As Burns plows a field, and runs over the mouse’s nest, he writes, “The best laid schemes of mice and men go oft awry.”

Reflecting on this line, I am thinking most of my friends and family that I have been connecting with back in the States the past couple of days. Grandma and my Aunt Abby canceled their plans for Vegas, another friend and his family canceled the spring break he and his wife had promised the daughter they had recently uprooted, and dozens of you are getting ready to support distance learning while also keeping your careers afloat. It sure does feel that Covid-19 is akin to that plow from the poem.

I continue to occupy new and interesting spaces back in China. At the end of the episode, the phone rang in my room, and I was told that I would be going home, for certain this time. I ran around, throwing my belongings into my suitcase in mish-mash fashion. I flew out the door and down the elevator, delighted at this news. I had planned to be in the hotel another night as I had gotten no news of my test results just yet — and this time, I was happy to have these plans interrupted.

Two official workers whisked me home in this golf cart. It was pretty nice to feel the wind in my hair after a 48-hour stay indoors.

There was a point where a 14-day quarantine inside my own home almost seemed unbearable; now it seems a welcome space compared with the hotel, where I did not have access to a kitchen, my wardrobe or the queens of my castle: the cats.

When I walked back into my home last night, it hardly felt real. I am ridiculously grateful to be in my own apartment now, even if I am forced to stay in isolation for another 12 days.

This morning I allowed myself the space to be slow in rising, slow in my yoga asanas, slow in my kitchen. I read somewhere recently something that went like this: when you go twice as slow, you notice twice as much.

After my easy yoga practice, I sat on my meditation cushion, soaking in the sound bath of a Shenzhen morning. A car horn honked emphatically as traffic whirred 17 floors below me. Birds twittered while a mate cawed loudly in their direction. The sound of materials stacking, or dropping, set a sort of drum beat to my surroundings. A puppy yipped as I opened my eyes to catch a glimpse of a white-winged bird soar into a green tree in front of me. It was lovely to sit in such awareness. Rather than focusing on being confined, right now, I am continuing to find delight in what I have access to: slow living.

I also got back on my whole bowls kick. I am making my way through Alison Day’s cookbook, but today I was short on ingredients, so it was millet, Chinese greens, and hemp seeds for brekky.

Silvie is a big fan of the life of leisure. From time to time, she does go after one of the balls that her Auntie Megan gifted her, but otherwise, she does a lot of this.

After talking with two friends from home this afternoon, I just keep thinking about all of you just beginning to process how you will protect your families from contracting the virus, but perhaps even more, how you will sustain the emotional well-being of yourself and your loved ones. Words that my dear friend Ceci says to me feel appropriate here: “You can do hard things.” And you will.

In the midst of the rapid changes that we are facing each day in regards to the hard and unexpected space that we find ourselves in, I wonder what a slower pace of life will surface in us? I wonder what we will allow ourselves to hold space for in terms of emotions and reactions to a novel experience? I wonder what we will find in ourselves that we did not remember or know existed?

While I am trying to monitor my social media use — mostly unsuccessfully at the moment — I am so enjoying seeing how everyone is working to create new routines, to help their children understand the power of positivity, to reach out to one another. It’s a real shit time in many ways. One of my administrators passed along a clip of a BBC Radio recording. The broadcaster says, “Yes, there is fear. Yes, there is isolation. Yes, there is panic buying. Yes, there is sickness. Yes, there is even death. But they say in Wuhan after so many years of noise, you can hear the birds again ... the sky is no longer thick with fumes but blue and grey and clear ... Today, a young woman I know is busy spreading flyers with her number through the neighborhood so that the elders may have someone to call on ... All over the world people are waking up to a new reality ... to what really matters ...

To love ... there can always be a rebirth of love.”

Tonight, I am imagining that mouse in the field, looking at her plowed over home. I hope that after she acknowledged the devastation that she had not planned for that she gathered up her spouse, and her children, and industriously set off to rebuild her living space — unlikely to look just as it had before, but to be a shelter for her family all the same. And, to be a space for love.

Writing from Within a Government Quarantine

I can look outside my window right now and see Rosa, my favorite whisky and cocktail bar. I am currently housed in a hotel in E-Cool, two blocks away from my apartment. But I’m not home yet.

Wondering if there are any super humans who want to order me a Plum Girl and climb up a rope from my window to deliver my favorite cocktail?

I was lucky to get on a flight from Phuket to Hong Kong yesterday morning. Most flights out of Phuket were canceled as more restrictions are now in place, starting today, Thursday, March 19th. Any travelers arriving to Hong Kong from this day forward will have to do a 14-day quarantine in Hong Kong before traveling to their next destination, even if the next destination is Mainland China. This means if I would have landed 10 hours after I did, I would have been subjected to 28 days of quarantine as China does not count the quarantine in Hong Kong. I am an introvert, but not a hermit.

The plane ride and arrival to Hong Kong was uneventful. The fun began at the border crossing. After crossing through the Hong Kong side, those of us returning to the mainland were greeted by many, many staff in Hazmat suits.

I waited in a line for about two hours to fill out a number of forms asking about where I had come from and the status of my health.

After a number of hours, I was eventually color-coded with a sticker that identified which part of Shenzhen I live in. This sticker would indicate which hotel I would be brought to for my quarantine.

I spent about an hour in one of these fancy chairs with this view waiting to be placed on a bus

I landed myself in a hotel quarantine rather than a “normal” home quarantine for the time being because Thailand was put on the hot list of countries that China considers most dangerous in terms of spreading the virus right now. Also on that list: South Korea, the Philippines, Italy and The United States. Some six hours after landing in Hong Kong, I arrived at the Fuzon hotel, my three-star quarantine abode.

It was nice to be placed in a hotel in my own stomping ground. Rosas out my window is a bit of tease, though.

Before I could get in to my room, there was more waiting around. I was hangry, I was exhausted. I was waiting for this ... j

ust your run-of-the-mill coronavirus swab. Crossing my fingers my results are back tomorrow so that I might sleep in my own bed soon.

After the swab, I was offered a sheet with the rules for my stay:

“Warm” tips. Living a life lived in translation is everything.

After falling into my hotel bed — which, to be honest, is comfortable and clean — just before midnight, I slept for some six hours. I close my eyes and find myself back in my bed at CCs, next to a beautiful man, laughing and talking. Or snuggled in my bed on Phi Phi Islands with the ocean just outside my door. Life right now is quite the contrast to what I was lucky enough to live for over three weeks.

After I got up today, I put my yoga practice on hold for the moment and got down with a Dirty 30 workout — I’ll find a way to fit burpees in to any space.

Jeana Anderson Cohen, founder of asweatlife.com, says, “If you have a body, you have a gym.”

A good portion of the afternoon was spent grading essays and listening to one hit wonders from the late 90s and dancing around my hotel room. I am going to make the most of this crazy situation. No diggity, no doubt.

Lunch did leave a bit to be desired. My biggest criticism of my situation is that I am not allowed any food deliveries. I do not know why this is as I know people at other hotels who are able to order food or receive deliveries from friends.

Ufff daaaa. I am not at CC’s anymore, eating fresh curry and sipping Muay Thai smoothies, that is for sure.

Buuut, that I was able to receive a delivery from my friend and apartment neighbor. She snuck some chocolate past the food police and it did make my day. The craviance (remember from the past post that this is the new word for “an ambiance of elegance”) of my hotel was greatly ameliorated by these small candles, magnetic words for poetry play and dark chocolate.

I am now about to crash hard-core here. It is going to take some time to get my bearings back in Shenzhen. What does just warm my heart is that In the 20 hours that I have spent here in “solitary confinement,” my director and administrators have called and messaged to check in, to see what they can do for me, within their means, to just say, ”I’m here.” My friends have offered to talk at any time, to arrange times for people to call in so that it feels a little less like being alone. Alli and Charles were able to also drop off a portable wifi device with a built-in VPN, so working for the hotel room is a bit smoother now. When Community wraps its arms around you, well, to me, if feels as good as my weighted blanket waiting for me on the bed in my apartment.

It is community that is everything right now. We must take great care of ourselves, and we must take great care of each other. Extending more gratitude tonight for the communities I am fortunate enough to give to and receive from.

Love, peace, and good vibes, from inside of my quarantine. XOXO,

Love in the Time of Corona

”The only regret I will have in dying is if it is not for love.” —Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

As I opened up my Instagram at one point today, the first post that appeared was my friend Danielle’s. This spirited teacher friend of mine has been in Italy since Chinese New Year. Early in her trip, which has turned in to a temporary residency, she met Marco. Today, Marco proposed, and Danielle said yes. Love in the time of the novel coronavirus is real, indeed. I am toasting Danielle and Marco with my Chang beer from the Phi Phi Islands tonight. Yours, my friend, is quite the origin story.

In this time of great uncertainty, love is not the only thing that arises. As humans, we have all kinds of reactions to fear, some of them more shadowy than others. A number of my students have recently flown from South Korea back to China. One of my students has been sending regular updates to his teachers as his situation has impeded his ability to attend to his academics. In one recent email he wrote:

I hope you are all having a wonderful afternoon. While it was a really wild week, my mom and I were able to get into our residential area through the parking lot without much drama, most likely due to strong responses from the Shenzhen government to the residents. We are back home now, without much trouble. Thank you for your understanding this past week. Now, I can get back into working without any problems. 

(Also, the reason why we didn't get in on Thursday or Friday was because of the residents' reactions. Friday was especially wacky, as we basically had to stand in front of the gate while everyone was taking pictures of us and shouting "go back to quarantine virus!". A very wacky day, indeed.)

Go back to quarantine virus?! My goodness. My heart hurt when I read that. I know that Elliott is not the only one experiencing people uttering words that cause distress and acting in hurtful ways. Ignorance does not discriminate —- it enters all cultures; without deep awareness of ourselves, anyone is capable of letting their shadow cast darkness over others. It’s human nature. But so is it human nature to cast light, to shed rays of love and hope and support on others.

In addition to Danielle’s beautiful story, scrolling Instagram also led me down a reflective path, considering just some of the actions we can take to support one another and our communities right now, as Covid-19 makes it way around the globe. I love theconciouskid — this feed always has me thinking about leveling up my consciousness and seeing other perspectives. Especially now, it feels so important to consider how our decisions will financially impact others’ ability to pay their bills. .

I am reading what Jimmy wrote here, asking myself, “Who are the most vulnerable populations

in my part of Shenzhen? What can I do to support them?

GuanteSolo is one of my new fave humans. His podcast What’s Good, Man? is legit. So is his spirit of serving humanity.

As I am curled into bed for my last night on Phi Phi Island, I am continuing to consider what kind of light I am casting onto those around me. I have been living large for three weeks. I have been loving it. I also want to make sure that I am serving others and thinking of what the world around me needs. Right now, this in part means offering as much pastoral care to my students as possible. I am working to wrap my arms around them, figuratively, by reaching out through email and video chats. I think there is more, though. I am sure there is.

I am just thinking about the power we all have to bring Higher Love to our respective geographic spaces. (This dance video is still forthcoming, by the way!) It has been through the love extended to me in the past 8 weeks, by my friends, family, therapist, everyone that I have connected with at CC’s, that I have felt so sustained in this crazy, ambiguous world. So, let’s keep loving.

I am going to peace out here as beachside stays always bring on my narcolepsy. In closing, a number of photos to celebrate the beauty of this part of Thailand, a country of such kind people, and a country I am eternally grateful to have landed in.

This has been my morning view as I have walked out of my bungalow each day. I am arising early tomorrow for a sunrise swim.

The flora and fauna of Thailand will entreat you to pause time and again and just breathe in gratitude.

I could write from here for forever. And ever and ever. To hell with logic and reason. I’m buying real estate on this island.

Honestly, though. Thailand. XOXO

Reporting from Shenzhen, China: Work and Brain Breaks

I am back at school today and, as it's been several hours of very quiet work, I was just inspired to blast the Higher Love remix over my classroom speakers. It got a little shimmy of reaction ...

In the company of the fun nerds.

Day two of Microsoft TEAMS and OneNote e-learning had me tracking down a good number of students with well, hello, I didn't see you on the chat yesterday, can I offer you further assistance in getting started? I am going to have to come up with a strategy for my own work time. My brain almost short-circuited this afternoon as I had emails and notifications coming in at one time from students in four different classes. Learning curves.

Learning curves do call for brain breaks, and a little sweat session is a great way to refresh the synapses ... or something like that (I don't speak Science fluently). The gyms are closed here in Shekou, but on the 4th floor of our school is a mini-gym equipped with everything we needed, from TRXs to weights to two rowing machines, for a Dirty 30 workout.

This is certainly not all fun and games ... but today was a little bit fun and games ... and some good laughs.

After 30 minutes of 45 seconds of HIIT and weights and 15 seconds to rest intervals, we were ready ... to go to lunch. Back at HH Gourmet where the best bagels are sold, I had a large "yoga" omelet. Most restaurants are not serving salads or foods that are uncooked. It's smart, I think.

I have continued to be able to get fresh produce to cook at home.

To hear the story behind this little store, check out a video that I made with a colleague and student: Into the 'kou: Lora's produce.

In Shekou, we are privileged to have Lora, a friendly and community-minded woman who opened a small storefront to bring us organic fruits and vegetables.

I bought free-range, organic eggs from Lora today. She is one of my favorite people. Ever.

Signing off tonight to head into the kitchen to cook up my fresh veg and a halibut steak -- drizzling the BaciBowl with Allison Day's pumpkin seed sauce.

Love and light from Shenzhen,

Jamie

Reporting from Shenzhen, China, in the midst of #coronavirus fears, rumors, and new norms

Hello, dear friends and family,

I am snuggled up in my apartment tonight, writing as my second batch of chicken bone broth cooks in my instant pot, and the cats lounge at my feet.

I am pretty tuckered out tonight, largely because I ran a kick-ass 10k along the boardwalk with my friend Ann. This weekend I was supposed to be in Hong Kong for the 9Dragons race -- Alli was going to run the 50k, and I was slated to run the 10k. Understandably, the race was canceled, but my runner's lungs were still craving a little race pace. As Ann and I ran, masks (mostly) on, the scene was quiet and quite lovely. Along the boardwalk, instrumental music plays out of speakers in the bushes. Guards were posted regularly along the boardwalk to ensure runners, walkers and those strolling along were indeed following the mandate that everyone wears masks outside.

Ann is a fellow midwesterner. We have become fast friends because of this, and also because of our love of fitness and food.

The day was pretty cloudy, but we have had a great deal of sun this week, so I've been soaking up that Vitamin D.

Palm trees and distant ships in the South China Sea. The boardwalk is a sweet space to enjoy.

Some of the new protocols set in place this week have been strange to get used to. Just today my building stopped allowing visitors in, so my friend Katie, who came by for a bit, was not allowed to enter. This is disappointing, but we still were able to head out on our favorite hike nearby and enjoy coffee at our favorite cafe.

I have been to Buttery every day for the past ... many days. We love the oolong tea and ...

the pork and chicken and trumpet mushrooms. I didn't order to share, I ordered to have leftovers.

Altogether, I appreciate the measures that China is taking to prevent the virus from spreading further. I now get my temperature checked some 3 or 4 times a day as I enter and re-enter my apartment. Every time they put the temperature gun to my head, the apartment security is very kind. Honestly, I am thankful these are the only kinds of guns hanging around here. The biggest gripe in my day was actually the fact that when I blew my electricity yesterday, I forgot to turn on the water heater again ... the water was running mighty cold after that run.

This is a time it is especially useful to be inclined towards the introvert end of the spectrum. I love my solitude. I have many books, podcasts, Netflix shows, and a Shutterfly book that I started three years ago to attend to.

Earlier today I met with my colleague and friend Clayton to collaborate about how we will work on online platforms to deliver curriculum to the students. As of right now, we will be working online until February 17th.

Alright, kiddos, time for some Microsoft TEAMS discussions.

I am largely ignoring much of the media. If you want to hear more raw truth, I encourage you to drop CNN and FoxNews, and tune in to Harvard Health and NPR. I logged in to Twitter tonight to find that what was trending for me was #coronavirus. Not surprising. Just below that, though, was the #NoMeatNoCoronaVirus and I was like I just cannot with you opportunists right now.

I am fortunate to be part of a community here that is one to offer support, outreach and just some laughs to one another. My principal and director have been close at hand when I have needed to offset some anxiety with a conversation. Those of us who stayed in Shenzhen rather than opting for Thailand, or other destinations, have formed a group chat. Only honest and useful updates are posted to the chat, which was started by an elementary teacher who has continued to offer family hikes to look for bugs and enjoy nature. My friend Megan, also an administrator, has arranged for a viewing of the SuperBowl tomorrow. We are #shekoustrong because of this caring community. I feel so blessed to feed off of this community, and also give back to it.

I plan to offer daily updates here at lettersfromasojournista. No fake news, no bullshit, just what is happening from here in the bubble of Shekou in Shenzhen, China.

For tonight, I sign off with a picture of Ms. Silvermoon Free Solo, shortly, Silvie.

Why is she pouting? I am not entirely sure, but I have a hunch it is because Patacon said something quite catty to her.

Be well, everyone. Sending love from Shenzhen.

In Singapore, fan-girling hard

When I was 11 years old, I won first place for the fifth grade in a school wide writing contest. This landed me a place in an old school white limousine and lunch at TGIFriday's (I think--it could also have been Perkins or Baker's Square). I remember writing in a tiny notebook in my bedroom when I was in grade school, trying to imitate the authors I was reading, creating stories of protagonists and their beautiful horses. In high school, I wrote poetry dripping with angst and emotion. Poetry made its way onto my bedroom walls in sheets (and so many years later permanently onto my arm).

It wasn't until I moved abroad, though, 20 years after that 5th grade award, that I realized how integral writing was, is, to my identity. In the last six and a half years, I find that unless I write regularly, I struggle to process my experiences deeply. I feel a bit lost and detached from myself. I close my eyes to see myself floating in a dark amorphous space that begins to take clearer shape when my fingers finally have time to connect with my keyboard.

So here I find myself today -- as a wild rice chicken casserole bakes in the oven, as Silvie has just knocked over the full garbage, again -- tuning in to myself, and reflecting on meeting an incredible writer in Singapore last weekend.

I first encountered Roxane Gay when a friend forwarded an instagram story to me. The Grammer (like the Tweeter) was talking about the characters in Gay's Difficult Women. I bought the iBook pronto, and found myself immersed in story upon story of women in the midst of tragedy, ambiguity, fear, hope and growth. As international life would have it (that is just slightly cringy -- I hear the privilege in all of this), I was at a conference in Nanjing as I was reading the book. Noting my newfound enamorment (the New Baci Dictionary hits print in June) with Roxane Gay's writing, a couple of friends who live in Singapore told me that Gay would soon be making an appearance in Asia for the Singapore Writer's Festival.

In moments like this, I feel entirely inspired by Mark Twain's words: "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." I am thus less in touch with what I remember from reading Rich Dad, Poor Dad, the book my own dear dad bought me when I started to have to consider the notion of adulting. (Let's be real -- the sobrinas aren't expecting for there to be any money in my will to do anything more than support the cats.)

So, aYOLOing I went. My dear friend Ceci was present at this moment, and she endorses all things spontaneous -- within seven minutes, I had a hotel and plane ticket to Singapore for the festival, and a ticket for a seat in front of Ms. Roxane Gay.

Gay began her talk by reading an excerpt from her memoir Hunger. Pertaining to pop culture, her memoir will make you consider the frightening impact that shows like Biggest Loser are having on all of us.

As I sat looking up at this queen, I was moved by so many of her words, not just those she was reading from her book, but those that kept echoing truth throughout the auditorium. "You don't have to find your voice. It's already there, you just have to allow yourself to access it," said Gay in her soft but firm voice. As a writer, as a woman, as the me who is working in so many ways to evolve, I found comfort here, a reassurance that I did not have to go rummaging through so many boxes sometimes, yelling "Marco" into an internal void, hoping to hear "Polo" singing back. Gay's words align with my mindfulness practice, with yoga and meditation and coming to see that we already have what we need inside of us; it is about sitting in enough stillness to feel it.

Getting in touch with my own Divine Feminine, it's been a journey, one that will continue until the end of my days, but I have felt that power rising, rising in my breath, rising in my heart, rising in my voice. In a time when Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's We Should All Be Feminists is taught in international classrooms (mine for one!), where Emma Watson becomes the voice of the HeForShe campaign, some are asking about what we are asking for from men. Gay's response: "Just be a fucking feminist, which just means women are people. " Mmmm, yasss, I murmured. I love when we stop mincing words.

At the end of Gay's session, the audience was invited to a book signing outside of the auditorium. I had purchased three of her books before her talk began, Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body, Ayiti and An Untamed State. Employing my greatest efforts to avoid my own greed, I had decided to have Ms. Gay sign Ayiti as it was the only hardcover book that I had purchased. As I approached the table she was seated behind, I smiled shyly and began stammering about how I had come from China to see her, that I had just really discovered her writing. To my surprise, and delight, Ms. Gay looked up at me in her own surprise and said, "You came all the way from China?!" We engaged with one another for a few more moments and then the cameraman asked if he could snap a photo of us. I yammered a yes, looking at Ms. Gay to see what she thought about the question. Somewhere in the internets, friends, this photo exists. I have yet to find this golden picture, but I'll be looking until I do.

After the snap of the photo, I mumbled a few more words of thanks to this incredible human. I walked with legs of Jell-o towards my friend Ana Maria whose mouth was also agape. Best day ever, I said, wearing my biggest grin.

For the past week, I have been immersed in all things Roxane Gay. If somehow this blog makes its way to your computer, Ms. Gay, my most heart-felt congratulations on your engagement. My deepest gratitude for your strength, your writing, your voice.

And, as I close here, now from Shenzhen, I wonder what would happen for each of us, if we heeded some of my favorite words of Ms. Gay's from that sunny day in Singapore: "Open your lives. Open your hearts."

To Ghent We Went ... and Amsterdam too

I first have a request: anyone who has heard of Ghent, raise your hand. I'm squinting through space to count about three hands raised. Mine is among those three hands now, but three weeks ago I thought that Ghent was the name of our street that our hotel was located on in Brussels, thus I booked Mom, Gram and I train tickets from Amsterdam to Brussels. Ghent, though, is not in Brussels, but located about a 30-minute train ride beyond Brussels.

Before I go on about our time in Ghent, and what a fortunate mistake our hotel booking was -- though, of note: Mom said she did not mistakenly book a hotel in Ghent, that she meant to book a hotel in Ghent because she read that Ghent is quaint and cute to which I replied, "Why did you let me buy train tickets to BRUSSELS then?! ... but I digress ... -- I think you must see the way that we traveled to Ghent.

American travelers with their oversized luggage. (It is important to take 10 pairs of shoes, two winter jackets per person, 7 kilos of American snacks -- including Grandma's homemade almond butter cookies -- and 3 purses for a 7 day trip. I am actually not sure if that is what we each packed. But it felt that way.)

After loading all of that luggage on the train ourselves -- we are hella tough but a strapping lad would have been welcome -- even Mom turned to booze. She had been dry her entire 59 years until this day.

Kidding. She didn't actually take the shot. But as you can see Gram was well ready for a cocktail when we finally reached our destination. In Ghent.

When we arrived to our lovely Belgian town -- after having passed through a Brussels that looked a bit rough around the edges -- we were delighted to find an old Medieval city, or, as a resident of the city named it: a very modern city in an old jacket.

Looking back at this scene, I miss the slower pace of small town Europe. Life in Shenzhen seems to moves at light speed; in Ghent a woman can take a bit more time to gaze around and contemplate what it feels like to take a few breaths.

Perhaps one of the best things we did in our cozy host city was to take part in a free walking tour. One of the most fascinating facts we learned from our congenial guide was that Ghent used to be the 2nd largest city in Europe -- from the 12th - 15th centuries. I'm tucking that tidbit away for my next trivia night.

Liam (I think that was our lovely guide's name, but I also have Brahm written in my notes and now I don't know what that means, so maybe this is Brahm) schooled us on so much history here.

Also of historical note: During the middle ages, beer was safer to drink than water, so having your pint at the local watering hole could simply be considered health care. I wonder if I could take this up with my insurance company today?

As an English teacher, I find the etymology of words and phrases quite interesting. As we meandered about the town, Liam (or Brahm) told us where the phrase "stinking rich" stems from. Let's take a moment to make some guesses ... and while you are crafting your response, another scene to take in ...

Graffiti is kept off of most streets and buildings as the city provides space for street art. These are students working on a school project.

So, stinking rich? Well, the wealthier you were, the closer to the alter in the church you were buried, but graves were not closed off properly, thus the flesh would begin to rot and smell up the space. I think I'll stick with being potpourri poor. I believe this phrase was first coined in 2007 when friends would leave flowers at the door of humble, poorly paid teachers.

In addition to being a bit smelly, we also learned of the torture rooms inside of the castle in Ghent. As I have learned about history, there have been eras that have seemed rather appealing. The 1920s, for example ... like, I think I would have loved to have been a flapper. A resident of Medieval Ghent, though? Hard pass.

A Belgian and her Belgian wafel (not considered breakfast food in Belgium, but rather a midday treat).

Il Folletto was our best meal in Ghent. The atmosphere, hospitality and pasta were on point.

Ghent by moonlight. I loved the break from the neon lights in Asia. There was a serenity here.

Three generations of love.

So, that was Ghent. We're glad we went. I did not add up all of the money that we spent. And so, to you I toast tonight, Ghent, with my dark Belgian chocolate in hand. Cheers!

Before we arrived to Ghent, we did spend four days in Amsterdam. Gram is our guest writer for this part of the post today. She spent a bit of time journaling each night, capturing the moments of the day. This is what she has to say ...

Saturday
Interesting hotel. Trying to discover heat. Fans blowing cold air. Need wool socks. 

The Linden Hotel was quaint, with a prime location and offered delicious animal gummies at the front desk. The rooms are quite tiny, but I loved how cozy it felt.

Our room is small for three, but the shower is really nice. We could shower together. 🤔. Our hotel, the Linden, is a quaint hotel located in the center of Old Amsterdam. It is perfect for our needs, as the narrow streets are lined with restaurants, pastry shops, clothing and gift shops, and bars. We are able to walk to most other sites from here. 

Waiting for Jamie to arrive. Anne is napping. Not much sleep on the plane. (Something I wish I would have acquired from my mother is her ability to sleep. For long hours.)

Outlets need converters in order to charge devices. Hoping Jamie will figure it out. (As it turns out, I did not bring my converter, thus failed at being of help here.)

Jamie arrived around 7:00. She was starving. We walked to a restaurant and had a delicious meal. Anne ordered a Dutch dish—mashed carrots, potatoes and onion with a meatball in the center. Dad would have loved it. I had pork tenderloin with pepper gravy, and Jamie had meatballs with salad. (Meatballs with peanut sauce are where it is at.)

Sunday
Slept til 9:00. Showered and hit the streets. Anne and I did a canal tour for an hour. Very informational. The architecture reminded me a bit of Boston. Amsterdam was founded in the 1200’s. That is a long time ago!!! The canals are man made, and many of the buildings were built in the 1600’s. 

Anne and I bummed the streets. Went into a couple shops—high end. Anne tried a pair of boots, but they didn’t have her size. I wanted a sweater, but it was $$$$$$. Not in my budget. We stopped at a pub and sat at the bar. The owner, George, gave us a piece of his pizza. So good. I had wine. 

While Mom and Gram were on the canal and shopping, I was having coffee with Ashley, a fellow Gustie trackster. We hadn't seen each other in 12 years; it was a treat to catch up with her and meet her boyfriend and his sweet daughter who is taking this photo.

In the afternoon, we toured the Anne Frank house. As a taxi driver said to us later that day, “Why would a tourist want to pay to see her house when she isn’t there, and leave depressed?” Good question!!

We dined at an Italian restaurant, but were disappointed. I had lasagna—no meat and no noodles. Different and not what I as looking forward to. Anne had steak, and Jamie ordered a salad and tomato soup. We will do better with selecting restaurants. (Good thing we found our true Italian in Ghent.)

Monday
This was an exciting day. We did a bus and water tour—visiting three provinces of Holland. Our first stop was populated with wind mills. A miller who worked one of the mills showed us how logs are cut into lumber. Other mills in the province are used for making grain and Linseed oil (which I purchased at a shop.) A mill can also mix paint. 

Watching windmills can really sooth a sou.

Oh, the vibrant colors ... this pictures tickles my senses.

We bused to our next stop where we learned how wooden shoes are made. There were hundreds of shoes hanging from the ceiling to dry. They need to dry for three weeks before they can be finished—sanded, polished and decorated. 

The engineering behind these machines was brilliant. We learned that these wooden shoes are worn since it is so wet in Amsterdam, and work outside is made more comfortable if one can wear the wooden shoes which keep out the water.

From there, we boarded a ferry where Jamie and I quickly ordered a beer. I chose the beer of the land—Heineken—Jamie ordered Robuust. 😃 Oh yes, Anne had apple pie. 

At the third province, we learned how cheese is made, and purchased enough to increase the weight of our luggage by a few pounds!!! Oh my 😖. The cheese was delicious, and we couldn’t resist. We ate lunch at one of the restaurants—fish and chips which we shared. Following lunch, Jame and I snacked on pancakes with fresh fruit—covered in chocolate!! We didn’t see the sign, “Don’t fed the birds.” So, the birds were happy. 

Gram did not feed the swans, but I do not have a picture of the full-bellied birds, and this captured a lovely moment of the day.

A final lesson for us on this tour was a demonstration on how waffles were made. These are not like the waffles we make at home, but very thin cookie-like waffles filled with caramel or chocolate. They are good, but we didn’t buy them to take home. They are available at our hotel for our enjoyment. (Gram is writing about Stroopwafels -- check out this page for where to find the best in Amsterdam.)

From here, we boarded our bus and traveled back to Amsterdam. Anne rested, I walked the streets and Jamie found a workout class to attend. 

Just living that sweat life all over the globe. I loved the class at High Studios -- it was Barry's Bootcamp-esque and set me up with those good chemicals. Love me my endorphins.

Jamie chose an amazing restaurant for dinner. The food was excellent!! The cocktails were pretty good too. (Gram is talking about Morgan and Mees. It was Ashley's suggestion and it did not disappoint. It was quite posh.)

Tuesday
We slept in again, then leisurely showered and dressed for another rainy day. We shopped as we walked to see the Red Light District—so I could say we did—then had lunch at a restaurant Gina suggested. We then taxied to the Van Gogh Museum where we spent an enjoyable period of time learning about Vincent’s life and art. 

In the evening, we taxied in the pouring rain to Central Station where we met Jamie’s Gustavus classmate (Ashley) and her male friend. From the station, we boarded a ferry which took us to an area where we had dinner. To get to the restaurant from where the ferry dropped us off, we walked quite a distance—again in the pouring rain. I had no idea what was in store for us when I put on open toe sandals for the evening. That walk required RAIN BOOTS!!! and a raincoat. It rains horizontally here, so an umbrella doesn’t help much. We were wet and cold when we arrived at the restaurant. 

The atmosphere in the restaurant was warm and friendly, and dinner was accompanied and complimented by fun conversation. 

Following dinner, we called a taxi to take us to our hotel. It was late, and we had had a full day.

Wednesday
We are schlepping our heavy luggage and boarding the train to Belgium. Despite the sunny sky, it is once again raining. (And this brings us to the very beginning, a very good place to start ... )

In closing, the trip was picturesque, with a good dose of adventure, and plenty of charm.

At one point, as Gram and Mom were walking down the middle of the street, taking their lives into their own hands, I turned to Gram and said, "We're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. Come up on the sidewalk." It seems, though, that we did land somewhere over the rainbow.