"Do you think he's handsome?" "YES!"

It was the first day of class and I was walking up the stairway of the local middle school.  “Handsome!  You are handsome!” screamed one of the boys who passed by.

When I meet people here, a lot of them tell me they think I’m handsome.  Yes, as in the example above, even the males say so.  Once, a college student said it, and my fellow foreign teacher, Sue, said, “Men aren’t supposed to tell other men they’re handsome!  It’s just not done.”  And the student just says, “But it’s true!”

When they say so, I tell them thanks, they’re very kind.  It’s out of the ordinary to hear people comment so much on my appearance, and especially to hear them say they think I’m handsome, or the Chinese word for “cool young man.”

The adults and college students sometimes say so when they meet me, and the college students who watch the American show Prison Break tell me that I look like Michael Scofield (Wentworth Miller).  I don’t know, I have to take their word for it.  A couple times, I passed by a group of girls, (and usually, when people say something to me, they get a kick out of hollering “Hello!”) but on two occasions some giggly students waited until I was past and blurted out, “I think you are handsome!”

After awhile, it could become easy to believe.  Really, I knew coming in that people would notice me in a crowd and many Americans had already seen their stock rise after coming to Asia.  For most of these people, I’m the only foreigner they’ve ever met.  In an area of a couple million people, I’m one of a handful of white faces.  The only other white people I’ve seen are the Australian couple, Grant and Sue, who live across from me and also teach English at the university.

And even if they say I’m handsome, it’s more like I’m a curiosity- something to look at.  At the middle school, the students like to shout “Hello!” to me, or say my Chinese name “Li Da-Sen!”  At the university, they’ll sometimes do a double-take, and if they’re with a group of friends, they’ll probably say, “Hello” too.  Everything I do is conspicuous here, so occasionally I’ll hear from one of my students that her friend saw me eating noodles in the cafeteria.  Once, a student (not from one of my classes, someone I met on campus) said, “I heard someone say that Dustin has two kids.”  That was the only rumor I’d ever heard, and if they’re all that wild, then hopefully there aren't any more.

Fireworks- Every Day

Driving in from the airport, we transitioned from the highway to the local country road, and almost as immediately, next to my window were bright orange flashes and the loud drum roll of firecrackers.

I asked the obvious.  "Are those firecrackers?"

"Yes, don't you have those in America?" responded Miss Liu, an English teacher at the local middle school who had come with my friend, Fang Zhu, or "Aunt" Fang, to pick me up from the airport.

"Yes, but we don't set them off on the side of the road...in the middle of the afternoon."

I've heard fireworks of firecrackers every single day since I've been here.  I'm not exaggerating, so I don't mean most of the time.  I mean, every morning, before the construction workers begin their work, they supposedly chase the evil spirits away by lighting off a string in front of the work site, when people celebrate anything (wedding, birthday, acceptance to a good school) they set off firecrackers outside the restaurant, and when people feel like being entertained, I suppose, they light off firecrackers wherever or whenever they please.

Someone who was born in China explained the country this way: "There's no freedom of speech, but you can start a fire in the street."  I'm witness to the truth of that statement.  America has written and unwritten rules about certain spaces.  Streets are for cars, sidewalks are for people, you don't spit in a restaurant, you don't smoke in most places anymore, you need a permit to do any activity that would "disturb the peace."  I've never seen these boundaries in China.

When they light their firecrackers in the street, it's not just a packet of Black Cats, either.  It's the pinky-finger-sized red firecrackers that are on a string, and the whole roll covers about two parking spaces.  Then they let loose, and the strangest thing is that no one seems to really notice.  Chinese people take it for granted; firecrackers in the street are as mundane as seeing the mail truck in America.

Once, in my "Aunt's" apartment, she handed me a long stick with a long, thick tip.
"Is this incense?" I asked. No reply.
"In-cense?" I said, louder and slower.  She grabbed a lighter.
"Wait, is this a sparkler?" I asked exasperated.  She flicked the lighter a few times.
"Is this a sparkler- in the house?"  She finally got a flame.  "Is this a sparkler?" I asked again.
The paper fuse took some time, but eventually it caught and she laughed as I twirled the sparkler around a few times before it died.  A few weeks later, I think it was, she pulled a roll of firecrackers out of a drawer and we went out at night and lit them, in the street, just for fun.

Stranger in a Strange Land

Before I came to China, I promised people, maybe casually, half-heartedly, that I'd try to keep up with them by e-mail.  Rather than create an e-mail list, I think this Blog format will be more convenient.  It's easier reading and can be referred to quickly and shared by anyone interested.  Facebook no longer allows blogs to be imported, so I suppose I'll try to copy and paste there for as long as my will holds out.

I'm hesitant to start this, I think blogs can be self-important and vain, and it's one more task calling for my attention every day.  And yet, I've compiled enough stories and small observations that I think it can provide entertainment, insight, connection, and maybe even brighten someone's day, or life.  So, going forward, I'll be mindful not to overindulge and flatter myself or gush about trivial details ("You people in America haven't lived until you've tried the noodles in Anhui province!  You wish you were here!")  Instead, I'll offer brief stories to chronicle my time here and let you know what it's like, if you're interested.

The reasons for my coming here are deep and vast, so I won't try and list them.  You'll pick them up as you read along.  Hopefully, I'll start to understand them as well.