Thursday, January 15, 2009

When you share a home with twenty-five other people, it is inevitable that there will be challenges. It’s never easy to find hot water for a shower, unless you wake up at five in the morning, which no one wants to do. You can’t always count on having clean dishes in the kitchen. And there’s no guarantee that you will have personal space, because you probably won’t.

I am a very independent person, and it has been difficult at times not to speak out about such frustrations. However, at this time and in this place in China, these challenges are put in perspective—a perspective that makes you realize that these challenges really aren’t too big of a deal. This is a place where we’re all able to communicate, and most of the time, understand and respect one another.

Tonight is our last night in Qingyundian. Looking out my bedroom window, I notice the sun is slowly setting behind the red tile roof tops of the buildings surrounding our home and the bare wintery trees are deeply contrasted by the slowly-fading blue sky. I can see outside in the courtyard: a group of students play a final game of frisbee while another play their last game of feather hacky. Inside our home, there is a quiet sort of commotion. Some frantically finish packing their suitcases while others clean the house and organize gifts, which will be distributed this evening to our English students.

Last year when I left I knew I’d be back. And tonight, as I finish packing my suitcase, I’m thinking about how I don’t know if I’ll ever be back to this small certain rural part of China. I don’t know if I’ll ever sit on these heated hardwood floors again. I’m not sure if I’ll ever see the people who work at New Day again; the people who, in two years, have become some of my good friends. And I’m not sure if I’ll ever walk down the familiar road to the small village of Qingyundian again.

Tomorrow we will take a train to Shanghai where we’ll be spending one week.

Respectfully submitted by Jake Stortini