In addition to my blog at http://subido.info/index_files/page0012.htm, here is my final trip report:

From “Ni hao” to “Hello”

By Jessica Subido

I can’t even begin to express how this trip to China has broadened the perspectives of every individual in our team. We had the biggest culture shock of our lives to say the least. I was thrilled when I discovered from our coach that our destination in China was not a well-known, busy, modern city; instead, it was a small rural town. When I travel, I prefer to visit locations that very few tourists plot on their itinerary, and in Xia’si, I found exactly that.

We experienced every piece of the little town of Xia’si. When we arrived the first night, we dragged ourselves out of the bus, groggy and sleep-deprived from the fourteen-hour flight from the United States. Then we fixed our eyes on the shadowy image of the hotel. We were in awe as we gazed at the giant statue dragon “slithering” through the massive flight of stairs leading towards the entrance door. I was in China! The realization was so hard to grasp. The awe in my face captured my expression throughout the entire trip.

The same sensation overcame me as we stepped through the classroom doors of the local middle school, when friendly locals of Xia’si  welcomed our group and invited us to to sit down and have dinner in their home.  I will always remember the following images: fellow team member, Sarah Kunz, and I dressed in their traditional Miao ethnic costume; the closing ceremonies of the Chinese Nationals Slalom Race when confetti poured down onto the crowd; setting off crazy fireworks from a roof; meeting strangers and immediately feeling at ease despite the language and cultural differences.  It was cool how we disregarded the language barrier, and we just learned about the people as individuals.  We communicated using other mechanisms other than the spoken word such as expressions, a smile, a laugh, and gestures of a shrug, a nod, or a bow of the head.

Most of the population the town didn’t speak English, except for the kids in the school.  I was overcome with emotion the first time we entered a classroom.  The school’s faded paint was peeling, the doors were rusty, their chairs were no more than stools without backrests – and yet the students were so incredibly happy!  

I was with a group of Chinese girls, and the first thing they did was grab their tiny address books from their pile of books. They wanted me to write my phone number down. I also wrote my email address down; I think there were a couple of computers at the school.  The mini-keychain address books they presented me on which I wrote my contact information were decorated with lots of those tiny sticker pictures of all their friends (apparently, this was a big fad).  A common gesture was displaying the peace symbol with two fingers as they posed in front of a camera.  They loved the digital cameras. Instantly after we’d take a picture, they would crowd over to see, point, and laugh. It was quite the scene.

I will always remember a little outgoing girl named Hong Jia Mei.  She would always practice her English with the team, and she would link arms with me every time we walked.  One night, Sarah and I were buying snacks in town, and we bumped into Hong together with her two younger sisters. “Sar! Jusee! You want come to my house?” (“Sar” and “Jusee” was how they pronounced our names.)  We were delighted to take the offer.  With our arms linked together to stay warmer, we walked along the stone-brick road.  Hong carried a plastic bag with a cake inside.  It was her little sister’s ninth birthday.  Her little sister was wearing a red cap with a Canadian flag --  I assumed this was a gift from either of the two Canadians on our team.  When we stepped into her house it got instantly warmer.  In the center of the room there was a small cylinder stone heater containing coal.  Hong patted one of the tiny, half-foot tall stools surrounding the heater, gesturing us to sit down.  She opened a bag of sunflower seeds and peanuts and placed it on one of the stools for us.  We could tell her excitement from the huge grin on her face and the quick pace by which she was laying things out for us.  She ran out of the room and left Sarah and me to soak in the quiet atmosphere of the house: the ground was cement, but the walls were simply dirt covered with layers of old newspaper.  The light in the room was produced from a single bulb on the ceiling.  She came back with her mother, and she introduced her to us. “Ni hao!” Sarah and I said and waved.  Her mother didn’t speak a word of English, but her beaming smile said it all.  I inquired about their rooms and asked to see them.  “No no…is too messy.”  Sarah and I insisted and after Hong made a few runs up and down the stairs to get more sheets to tidy up the beds, we went up.  There were two small rooms upstairs, one was for her parents, and in the other Hong and her two sisters shared a bed.  In her room was a pile of potatoes on the floor and a line of clothes drying.  I took a seat on the bed and was surprised to see that it was nothing more than plywood board with sheets.  Wow, and the team was complaining about the hard beds in the hotel that would have seemed luxurious to this family.

Despite the condition that Hong and her family lived, they were so incredibly happy!  There was neither a single word of complaint nor a hint of negativity.  They were simply content with what they had and it seemed to me like they didn’t have a worry in the world.  People in the U.S. who inquired about our China trip was may have thought that we felt badly for the Chinese in Xia’si because of the poverty.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  In reality, I don’t see why we would take pity on them at all -- in fact I greatly admire them.  If anything I feel sorry for fellow Americans back home who regularly wallow in their misery because they are never satisfied with what they have.

As I was sitting on the stools around the stone heater eating sunflower seeds and peanuts with Hong and her family, I wished that all the other kids at my high school could have each had a chance to be in my place.  Perhaps they may realize that there are better things to do in life, better things to worry about than to whine over how mom won’t get them that $120 jacket or $80 jeans.  It saddens me how wealth has slanted our vision of happiness.   It seems that the U.S., as the wealthiest nation on the planet, could learn a valuable lesson from people like those that I met in the little town of Xia’se, China.

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