Despedidos (Farewells)

This post I dedicate to all my new friends, especially my Spanish friends—Silvia, Daniel, Luis, Susana and Konstantina (not quite Spanish, but close enough), os echo de menos.

One of the most difficult parts of coming to a place like BLCU for a month is that time goes by so quickly, and just when you are beginning to make good friends, you have to say farewell and go back to your own countries. At the end of each of the last several days, I have had to say goodbye to lots of new friends, wondering each time if it would be the last time I ever saw them. We always hope to meet again, but the truth is that you never know, so you wish each other the best in life, wherever it may take you.

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The Old Summer Palace

A couple of Sundays ago, Antonella, Roberta and I visited the old summer palace. Many Americans (and others) come to Beijing and visit the new summer palace as part of the standard Beijing tour (as touristy as it is, the new summer palace is certainly something I recommend). Fewer go to visit the old one. If you come to Beijing and have time, the old summer palace is a nice place to visit. Just don’t do it on a Sunday afternoon.

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Blue Skies!

After raining all day yesterday, the sun came out in full force today. I was delighted to see that Beijing has a brilliant blue sky. I have never seen it like that here. It was amazing to see the transformation of the city. You could easily see for miles. When you live in Portland or Boston or Dayton, it’s hard to appreciate how well you can see. Imagine living in Portland and not being able to see anything east of the Willamette from Washington park. If Portland had Beijing-type air, some people might not even know that Mount Hood existed!

Given the fact that it was so beautiful outside, I had to take a walk. It would have been better for my test score tomorrow to stay in and study, but when the air is clear, don't waste it! Today’s wander was not that exciting, but it was good exercise. I headed east from the university along Qinghua East road for a few miles until I ran into the Olympic Park.

A spectacular day at Olympic Park

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The Petra of China

On the second leg of our trip to Inner Mongolia, we went to Datong, in Shanxi province. Datong is a very important city in China because it is the center of a very large coal-producing region. The abundance of coal has allowed the city to prosper, and it was obvious while we were there that the small town of three million (small by China’s standards, at least) was changing fast. According to our guide, the Chinese government is worried that the coal in the region, which they have been mining for thousands of years (that’s what he said), is going to run out soon, so the city is trying to transition from a resource-based economy to a tourism-based economy. The city is razing huge swaths of the town in order to construct a massive stone wall that surrounds the city, in hopes that the spectacle will bring tourists in. We watched a set of excavators tearing apart a large, aging apartment complex and I expect that a set of new apartment buildings will replace it. All over the city, new high-rises were being built, and I could easily see why some economists are worried about a property bubble in China. Who is going to live in all of these massive, expensive new lodgings?

When we pulled up next to the hotel at Datong, I don’t know if I have ever seen a happier group of travelers. After sleeping poorly in a bunch of cold yurts, facing the stomach-wrenching odors of the filthy bathrooms, riding horses for two hours on the wind-blown prairie and spending four hours on a bus, seeing that we were going to stay at four-star hotel was the sweetest sight any of us could have asked for. All we wanted to do was grab a shower and take a rest before heading out for a group dinner of traditional hot pot. The shower was splendid and the bed was comfortable. Our bathroom even had a western toilet, still the only one I’ve seen since I arrived in China. It’s the small things in life that make it tolerable. . .

Happy travelers waiting for the bus in Datong

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Harvest and the HFC

Today I want to take a short break from China to introduce you to the HFC—the Hutchens Family Circus. As some of you know I grew up on a farm near Dayton, in eastern Washington State. My father and my brother still farm there, and there are certainly times when I miss being there. Wheat harvest, happening right now, is one of those times.

We endearingly call ourselves the HFC because over the years we have  been through many crazy undertakings and mishaps. Nothing illegal, mind you, but sometimes stuff happens.  I have a long list of stories tucked away that will make a good book when I take the time to write them up. One of the latest HFC “performances” was so compelling that I had to write about it. It might be the best show that the HFC has ever put on. Unfortunately, I missed the whole thing. Maybe by writing up the story and sharing it with you, I can participate by extension.

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