2008 Christmas Letter

December, 2008

Dear Loved Ones,
Greetings from Sanya on China’s Hainan Island! I’m preparing tuna dip, peppermint candy, and a punch bowl (if the Western deli has ingredients) for the English teachers’ party in my apartment Christmas Eve. Boss Helen, with mother-in-law waiting in Shanghai for surgery scheduled two weeks ago, told me today she won’t be here. That took care of the beach party Venes, a Catholic teacher from Phillipines, and I had anticipated for “our holiday.”

Malls and stores boast gaudy Santas and trees, but I’ve not seen a manger scene. I’ll “carol” with a Christian group in six hotels over the holidays. It sounds like it’s more of a Chinese production on-stage in Russian/Chinese/English than the caroling I’m used to doing for shut-ins and elderly in the US.

Marietta and Sophia, Kunming English teachers, walked beaches and biked with me after my daily teaching hour in kindergarten last week. I’m taking full advantage of mid-day naps, routine in China, to catch up on sleep; but we had a good time in tropical Sanya. Neighbors–”Frenchie” Jean Claude and wife, Ying– went with us before the women shopped (the last of numerous times) and caught their plane. I was glad to see that guests work out well in my apartment. I’m also glad the fire didn’t spread  the day they arrived. Unfortunately, Caretaker Li got my hot water working the day after my friends left. No more cold showers!! When
Canadian teacher, Peter, and ex-student, Gao, come mid-January, I’ll be a pro at hostessing. Get on the guest list!!
 
 I’m enjoying eleven five-year-olds at next door Golden Sun Kindergarten. We’ll decorate a tree December 23, practice daily for a December 31 extravaganza to impress parents and Helen’s friends. Today’s rehearsal saw lines of memorized dance movements to stereotypic children’s songs–except for my class’ Space Age Christmas with a count-down to “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” and costumed planets/stars/space ships moving around a central sun, singing to a Beatles tune. My co-teachers worry that it’s shorter than (and different from) the other classes’ acts, but Helen pronounced it “Wonderful!” It’ll do; we have to cover a curriculum that included a space unit.  
 
 The year comes back to memory: teaching Southwest Forestry English majors, judging a lot of English activities, playing Scrabble with Aussie teachers and Chinese grad students, burying myself in a sizable pocket of Kunming Westerners who had books to loan and stimulating conversation over actual coffee, helping Jenny (who works with HIV-AIDS organizations China/India) get ready to present at a Mexico City conference, leaving Kunming in a major
flood and feeling like a July 4th jet-lagged zombie when I met 3-month-old Lila Rae Fortner in California.
 
In Kansas, I enjoyed Sutter’s backyard pool while Janet celebrated her 42nd with Kent in Tahoe. She and I sailed Lake Cheney one whole day; Ethan’s Scope class taught me about whales, then we drove to visit Grandma Mary in Fredonia; Brian cooked us some good bar-b-que. One fetticini lunch with Grant talking about China’s place in the world in the future stands out in my mind too. 

Rested up back in Montana, I returned to CA late August for Kent, RJ, Owen, and Lila’s housewarming/Road 31 party.See <www.road31.com> It was worth the effort! I spent a few days hiking Yosemite Park. See my blog www.vfortner.wordpress.com> which Janet now handles because China stops blog at their firewall.

I lived day-to-day in Montana after Alabama cousin, Morgan Douglas, and grandson came for a time of Bison Range, photography, hiking, and boating. Mountain sheep came down mountain about the time Helen’s invitation to teach in Sanya arrived. I left October 1, arrived October 3 (13 hours later here with no time zones). You can take a 5-yuan bus (60 cents) to upscale Yalong Bay along rice paddies worked by peasants and water buffalo. Buses (13-cents) run to Dadonghai Harbor’s Russian shops and hotels or to Sanya Bay’s hotels and restaurants. Interspersed are typical Chinese neighborhoods with folks sitting outside to eat, drink, smoke, talk, play mah jong, brush teeth, let babies pee, joke, and enjoy their neighbors.

My housing development has had two all-night funerals since October 10; I arise for 7:00 a.m. Tai Ji most mornings with friendly women who speak no English. One gave me a ride on her motorcycles from First Market last week. Massages, haircuts, tailors, restaurants, fresh market produce, and most Chinese necessities are within walking distance.
 
 Bouganvilla, bird of paradise, kudzu, and ground cover grow in abundance “this winter.” Beaches wash up lovely shells. I’ve an air conditioner for the anticipated stifling six summer months. Yet I recall that MT friend, Kris, and I had nice breezes for a beach day last May.
 
 As for family, Ron says he’ll “make it through the winter” (from what I can hear, that’s the goal of most folks on both sides of the globe; China’s in recession too). He and Gayla report that Mom’s happy with her Fredonia move to Madison Square. I missed them, knowing they were together in Chanute around Berger’s table Thanksgiving, celebrating the Nov. 26-born Kuykendall, Chase.
 
 You’d smile at the full-voice accents of Chinese English teachers singing Auld Lang Syne from the red carpet laid for our kindergarten production. Mr. Li has his scythe ready to carry as the Old Year, holding Darren’s hand as New Year, this December 31. They’ll wave to the crowd as Ella translates my explanation of an American New Year. We sing Feliz Navidad with the kindergarten’s new guitar. It’ll be fun. I hope your 2009 has jolly moments too. One of mine was selling a blog to http://matadortravel.com/travel-community/virginia-fortner/, knowing it’ll make my tax man happy too.

Bless you, one and all, until I return August 31,
Virginia

Early December

Venes said Linda, a college girl,  invited us to visit BaoTing Saturday, 12/6. A chance to get out of Sanya and into the mountains! I heard there “wasn’t much there” but a tourist trap. We passed BingLangGu (beetle nut) forest and Ya nu da (“One-Two-Three” in Hainan dialect) signs. Linda’s family owned the Yanuda cultural theme park! Her back yard was orchids, gardens, and mountain jungle. They treated us to a spacious dinner in their restaurant–new foods I tasted were pigeon, winter melon soup, fresh coconut milk, sticky rice in bamboo, and taro, along with an array of great recognizable dishes. Then we visited three ethnic villages.  Li people did fancy bamboo dances in woven wedding costumes, Miao people made wine, handled huge snakes, and sold herbal meds. Fearless guys ate fire, climbed ladders made of sword blades, and walked on broken glass. 
 
Linda’s brother almost made it to the top of the beetle nut tree. It’s surprisingly like palm; I figured it could’ve had the grace to be ugly, since “it’s a very big problem in Sanya.” Venders wrap the nuts in leaves for sales on the streets. Men spit anywhere–on stairs, sidewalks. Old women’s mouths are permanently red like “Bloody Mary(’s chewing beetle nut”) in South Pacific. I’ve been told that beetlenut was made illegal for a short time, but there were too many party members who craved it; it was reappeared on the streets.
 
My thrill of the day came when I insisted on a walk up mountain with the young folks. Linda had me read “heart failure” on her pocket translator; Venes assured her I was strong enough to do it. Do what? We were harnessed into a zip line and sailed over the jungle tree tops to cross the valley below. Of course, they sold me a picture of the adventure!

A Yin Yang Day in SanYa

December started out chilly for Hainan Island’s tropics. My kindergartners wore new sweaters, then shed them as “Jingle Bells” pealed forth in Opening Ceremony beneath the red Chinese flag. I’d heard it yelled full volume every Monday since September 1. In English class, we pasted Santa on the first day of our secular Advent calendar. Finished by noon, I left them bedding down for rest on wooden beds. I read awhile in my apartment.

After a power nap, a bike ride beckoned: I donned swimsuit, added shorts and tee, and headed for Sanya Bay. In the middle of Third Bridge over Sanya River, I got the idea to photograph all three rivers’ bridges. Paused at a light, I got a good shot: red vertical lanterns striping the bridge’s expanse with green construction background boasting three lucky 8s.

 

At Sanya Wan (Bay), seated on a boulder near the South China Sea, I read the Yantzee story, RIVER AT THE CENTER OF THE EARTH, glad my niece had let me bring her “not for sale” Readerville.com copy to China. I kept one eye on my bike, chained to a nearby pole; the open basket had my camera, cell phone, and sandals in a canvas bag with a grandson’s smiling face on its pocket. Two women walked by, ignoring the bike.  I figured I was being paranoid about theft and concentrated on my reading.

An hour later, I rode to Casa Mama’s for capuccino I’d wanted since yesterday.  I’d been with Westerners who relished the lasagna and salad but didn’t have my fond memories of Italy that allowed for lingering over coffee. Mama’s chained doors, probably for a Monday off, sent me toward an umbrella table next door. Their prices were outrageous, but I figured 30 yuan in my cell phone bag would cover a pot of cha. I followed the author’s Yantzee account as far as Nanjing, sipping tea. The sun drifted below the palms, so I called for the check. “No!” It was on the house.

Smiling, I biked home, stopping to spend 4 yuan on a Magnum mocha bar. After a barrage of Chinese and tug-of-war over opening the freezer, I realized that electricity was off on that side of the street. My Magnum was half-melted. The shopkeeper returned my yuan, showering me with strident syllables. Pedalling renewed my craving for real chocolate around Western ice cream. Slim chance of two freezers having Magnum bars! Our market, 3 km away and typical of most neighborhoods, had four freezers filled with pseudo-ice cream and fake chocolate. I’d tried them all–once.

Just before third river bridge, I spied a Wall’s freezer with a Magnum sign. That bar was fresh, frozen just right. I licked off the wooden stick, threaded my way through increasing traffic, and guessed I’d get home in time for supper. Second Bridge didn’t present a sunset river photo, but on First Bridge, I caught a good shot: Sanya’s pride, Crown Beauty Center. Miss World Contest’s site, shaped like a white crown, reigned far beyond the landfill foreground just west of my apartment complex.

Scooters whizzed by. Buses honked. Cars slowed. I had one foot on my bike pedal when two guys on a scooter stopped, grabbed my bag, and took off laughing. “NO! DON’T DO THAT!” Was that my scream? I gave chase, barreling downhill.  At Phoenix Road, adrenalin stopped pumping; they could’ve gone right or left.

Riding into my gated complex, rationality returned. What had I lost? Passport copy? Money? Cell phone? Credit cards? Camera? No; those were around my neck. They had gotten my empty water bottle, glasses, book, and grandson’s picture on a canvas bag. They were probably disappointed too!

My boss thought “the police couldn’t do anything” so “we needn’t report” it. She said a student’s grandfather “was robbered” a few weeks ago. He died from a heart attack.

Behind safely locked doors, I discovered that my camera fits in a zippered pouch my mom made as a travel gift. I almost heard her platitude: “No great loss without some small gain.”

I’ll be more vigilant next bike ride. Maybe, with luck, I’ll see my book and one-of-a-kind bag offered by a sidewalk vender. Then I’d see how that book ends.