This was written for the English-speaking locals at the Education Bureau during my third year in China, but it also serves as a small recap of the time between my previous blog and this one. Photos were added just for the blog.
Life in Hengyang: A Treasure Chest of Memories
At the conclusion of this coming term, I will have been living and teaching in Hengyang, Hunan Province, China, for three academic years. It's my home away from home, yet no one at home (in Florida, USA) had ever heard of this city before I came – I had to explain to everyone that Hengyang is the second largest city in Hunan, that it's roughly three hours by fast train northwest of Hong Kong, that Hunan is home to spicy food and the birthplace of Chairman Mao... Even now, none of my family or friends (except for my brother, Todd, who visited) have a clear picture of Hengyang in their minds. They scratch their heads in wonder, asking themselves...without the prestige of Beijing, the glamour of Shanghai, or the excitement of Hong Kong, what am I still doing here? Most people anticipate bright, obvious fireworks, but fail to notice the opaque wooden chest, buried in the sand, containing golden nuggets, sparkling jewels, and precious gems. Hengyang is like this pirate's bounty – an observant, patient, and determined visitor must slowly unlock its secrets to find the treasure inside.
At first glance, Hengyang could be any mid-size city in China, with nondescript buildings, semi-smoggy air, and shoppers running to and fro downtown, hunting and haggling for the best bargains. Upon further exploration, however, a wandering soul such as myself will stumble upon a plethora of leafy parks filled with badminton players, unique historic and cultural sites such as Shigu Academy and the Wild Goose Temple, snack streets and mom-and-pop restaurants hiding delicacies on skewers and inside steaming bamboo baskets, tai chi practitioners and ladies dancing on street corners, traditional apothecaries and acupuncture clinics with mysterious preserved items in clear jars and little drawers, wet markets selling everything from animal heads to refillable shoe soles, and, everywhere, cute and smiling babies wearing enough layers of winter clothes to cushion a fall from a ten-storey building. Just by taking an after-dinner walk, I can be rewarded by the discovery of an abandoned train in a dinosaur park, just another coin to be tucked into the purse.
After staying in Hengyang for a few months, however, and being not so new anymore, I began to develop routines and recognize individual local people. I even try my best to see the erratic and unpredictable scheduling as “spontaneity with Chinese characteristics”! Now, the matron of the san kuai noodle shop around the corner will save aside a small bowl of the popular peppers for my breakfast, should supplies get low. I know the routes of all the busses that stop near my school by heart. My office is organized and I am familiar with a large group of colleagues from my school's faculty and administration. I have my favorite shops to buy furry clothes and small tea sets, near the slow train station, and my favorite stationary stores for school supplies. The owner of a nearby coffee shop keeps an English menu of the beverages just for me, even though I don't need it anymore. The hairdressers at the local salon remember my preferences, most of which were acquired through miming and hand gestures rather than clear statements. I am thisclose to asking the local la mian families if I can learn to pull my own noodles. The yoga teachers at the closest gym pay special attention to my adjustments in class, since they know I don't always understand their verbal instructions. The women who work at my favorite xi jiao clinic remember details of my life from visit to visit (I have a VIP card at two of these). I can get to the front of the line when buying train tickets and boarding the car. These are the jewels that make the most colorful adornments to the tapestry of life.
Nearly three years settled in, however, I now know that some things are more priceless than others. All good teachers have special nuggets of memory regarding students and inspirational classroom incidents, but I am lucky that my memorable moments are not just about classes, but about repeated exposure outside the classroom – dinners at students' homes (cooked by themselves!), lunch in the canteen together, field trips, chatting in the office or hallway, shopping excursions downtown. I now have friends from other departments, in and out of school, some of whom are teachers and some not, who travel with me on vacation and show me parts of Hengyang that I would not likely find on my own – things both helpful and fun. One friend eventually became my boyfriend, sparking dreams of weddings and curly haired babies among those who know us, the catalyst for overcoming cultural barriers. Other American or British teachers I know in China don't even know who their Foreign Affairs Officer is, but I feel proud to call Kitty not just a colleague but one of my most cherished friends – after countless evenings spent sipping tea and sharing thoughts, her husband patiently pouring and suffering through my bad Chinese, I feel like I am with family, and I hope we are part of each other's lives forever. These are the gems that are immeasurably valuable, that mean more to me than anyone else, and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world.
Some day, of course, I will leave Hengyang, I will leave Hunan, I will leave China. One day my parents will be old and need my help, unforeseen things will happen and a path will take me elsewhere. Yet, hidden in the back of my mind and the depths of my heart, these treasured memories will remain, like little scraps of glimmering gold at the bottom of a pirate's chest, garnished from another life – green spicy peppers at the end of my chopsticks, a beautifully painted calligraphy scroll, my back cracking at the beginning of a foot massage, rolling into the train station after a short trip away and bartering for a taxi, buying my first duck at the market, Kitty smiling at me over a delicate tea cup, an eager student telling me in Chinglish to be “happy every day!” These are the real gold nuggets, the valuable jewels, the precious gems, that will always stay with me – shining reminders of my life in Hengyang, even if they are visible only to me.
Update: One of the students above was kind enough to provide a Chinese version of this post. Read on to hone your language skills!
生活在衡阳：充满回忆的宝箱（有删改）
作者：海带 (Heather Lee Harris)
翻译：刘嘉兴 (Jarshing Leo)
这是我在中国的第三个年头写给以英语为母语的外籍教育工作者的，但是它同样作为我过去博客内容的一个小回顾，为此我还为这篇文章插入了照片。
——题记
我的家离这里非常遥远（在美国佛罗里达州），家人在我来衡阳之前从未听说过这座城市——我向他们介绍了衡阳是湖南省的第二大城市，搭快车到香港西北部大约需要三小时，湖南还是吃辣大省和毛主席的故乡……但是直到现在，我的亲朋好友（除了我弟弟Todd来过）依然没有人对衡阳有一个清晰的印象在脑海里。没有北京的声誉，上海的魅力，香港的激情，我在这里能做什么？
对衡阳的第一印象只是中国一个中等规模的城市，有着普通的建筑，半烟雾弥漫的空气，繁忙拥挤的市中心，还有能够讨价还价的商品。然而，随着进一步的探索，我惊喜地发现这里的公园处处充满了羽毛球健身爱好者；独特的历史文化成就了石鼓书院和大雁寺这样的古迹；小吃铺上，竹蒸笼正隐藏着极棒的美味；人们在街角练习太极和舞蹈；传统的中医药师和针灸诊所里保存着项目明确而又充满神秘感的小药罐和小抽屉；农贸市场上的商品从家禽家畜到充气鞋垫，应有尽有；可爱的小宝宝们裹足了层层冬衣下楼快乐地玩耍……
在衡阳生活了几个月后，我的新鲜感渐渐退去，并且开始制定自己的生活步骤，结识当地人，甚至尝试着把不稳定和不可预知的事情视为“中国特色”！
我能熟记学校附近所有公交车的路线，学校事务也有条不紊地安排进行。通过参与学校事务的管理我也逐渐熟识了人数众多的同事。我最喜欢在火车站附近逛毛衣和茶具店，或者去我最爱的文具店购买办公用品。学校附近的一家咖啡店老板总是会贴心地为我提供一份英文的饮料单，尽管我不再需要它了。当地的美容院理发师记得我的喜好，其中大部分是我俩通过手势进行交流的成果。我还曾询问过卖拉面的家庭，如何自己拉出好面条。邻近的健身房里的瑜伽老师格外关心我对其课程的适应程度，因为她们知道我并不能很好地理解她们的口头指令。诊所里工作的女士一直记得我的生活小细节。在车站订票时我都会被安排优先购票……这些经历使我的生活丰富多彩。
然而在近三年的生活中，我也逐渐懂得什么才是人生真正的财富。优秀的师生和励志的课堂故事让我记忆犹新，但我更加幸运，因为让我难忘的不仅是课堂，更在课堂之外！我们师生在学校食堂一起吃午餐，一起去学生家中做客烹饪，在办公室或走廊上谈天说地，去农家乐，去市中心闲逛。老师和学生们带我走遍衡阳的每一个角落。其中一位好友最后还成为了我的男朋友。在克服文化障碍的催化剂作用下，好友们竟然还点燃了我俩对婚礼和混血宝宝的憧憬。
我认识在华的外籍朋友当中有些甚至不清楚谁是学校国际事务的管理人员，然而我能非常自豪地告诉大家Kitty（国际部旷主任）不仅是我的同事，更是我一位无话不谈的好友！多少个晚上我们在她家喝茶谈心到深夜，我感觉就如同家人一般，惺惺相惜，形影不离，好像生命里永远住着彼此。
时光飞逝，我将离开衡阳，离开湖南，我会离开中国。也许我需要回去照顾逐渐年迈的母亲，然而世事难预料我的下一站会是哪里。当我吃完筷子上的最后一片青辣椒的时候，我也即将要离开了。Kitty隔着精致的茶杯对我微笑不语，一个热心的学生用中式英语告诉我一定要"happy everyday"（快乐每一天）……
这是真正的掘金。衡阳就像海盗的宝箱，只有拥有细心、耐心和决心的人才能慢慢揭开它神秘的面纱，找到宝藏。这些珍贵的记忆闪烁着光辉提醒着我在衡阳的日子，它们会永远伴随着我，那些感动与美好也只属于我。
