On our first day, we met Amy and Alan when we accidentally waltzed into the property sales office. Even though we couldn’t really speak to them in English, they were sweet enough to take time out of their busy days and lead us through our first real tour of the grounds (on a GOLF CART SAY WHAA?).
Just another example of the incredible outpouring of hospitality we have experienced from the people here.
XENO:
n. the smallest measurable unit of human connection, typically exchanged between passing strangers—a flirtatious glance, a sympathetic nod, a shared laugh about some odd coincidence—moments that are fleeting and random but still contain powerful emotional nutrients that can alleviate the symptoms of feeling alone.
I am an extrovert. I am a communication major. I am at my best when I can feed off the energy of others (and y’know…talk to them).
This part of me has quickly been squelched by the extreme language barrier here (it is unlike any I have previously experienced).
This week, I realized how desperate I sometimes get for human interaction. Jenny, Skylar, Alexandra and I are ECSTATIC every time we make a new friend that speaks even the smallest bit of English: one more person we can hurl our thousands of questions at, one more person we can laugh and share our experience with. So far, we’ve met Blaine and Kyle (two Americans who work in golf here), Neda (a Bulgarian who works at the front desk), and Eunice (the most hip hoppin’ spa manager around. She’s a whole other story all together).
At home, I live in a world where at any given moment, hundreds of people are a few touchscreen clicks away. The first couple of wifi-less days here were frustrating as hell. I wanted to share every thought and observation about my new surroundings with all of the homies, but I didn’t have the means to! #firstworldproblems
Now I’m glad I don’t have the constant buzz of my phone, or the repeated red glow of Facebook notifications. Yes, I miss the ever-present sense of connection with others, but I feel fortunate for the moments of silence these days on the island (and all the times I’m left on the outskirts of a Mandarin conversation) have afforded me.
Maybe this is why I have been having so many vivid dreams here…every day my physical limits are maxed out, and my mind is buzzing with all these new things to process.
Language is the toughest of terrains to navigate:
Much of my work during this first week has centered around observing English language training sessions in Mission Hills’ various departments. I have loved every second it. I am getting to meet people who work at various levels in every sector of the resort. I don’t get to have long conversations with them during the sessions, but we later recognize each other in passing in the hallways (I’m sort of making FRIENDS. Friends I can’t talk to but…friends nonetheless…their presence gives me a sense of the familiar).
A new persona emerges when they begin learning and speaking English. At the start of one class, the teacher began giving each person who didn’t already have one an “English” name. At first I found this to be extremely demeaning. Why would you strip somebody of their own name just because it’s too hard for your stiff Western tongue to pronounce it? When I expressed this to the teacher (David, a fat jolly Australian who has been doing this for years), he told me it is actually more demeaning every time a foreigner completely butchers their Chinese name time and time again.
Two halves making a whole. It’s almost as if a new persona emerges when they begin learning and speaking English…American names, an American way of carrying themselves and saying certain words, even though I see the marked difference in how they act and interact when the dialogue is in Chinese. My coworker used the phrase “It was bullshit!” the other day, but it just seemed so…wrong…coming out of her adorable self. Too arrogant and American of a thing to say.
But no amount of vocabulary study will make up for a knowledge of the ins and outs of a culture—the things you can only learn by living within it. Actually, scratch that…not just living within it, but having it at the core of who you are for the entirety of your life!
In one session, I was working with the staff of the hotel’s upscale Chinese restaurant. After my boss/interpreter left, I had no way of speaking to them. The only English they spoke to me were the phrases of the day (“Sparkling or still?” “Evian or Perrier?”). Yet we all had a moment of uncontrollable laughter when one waitress was listing the water phrases and accidentally offered beer as a choice. In that moment, we managed to connect despite the seemingly unconquerable language barrier.
I also accompanied Yvonne, one of my coworkers, to a particularly challenging session. Her task was to teach the housekeeping staff members 5 English sentences. The catch? Most of them didn’t even speak Mandarin…just a local dialect.
The women in the room were worn down. I was later told they are charged with the task of cleaning over 500 rooms each day. I could completely understand why they would want to be doing anything but learning a new language. Yet after 30 minutes of repetition and lots of phonetic wrestling, we managed to teach them the basics: good morning, good afternoon, good evening, hello, and thank you.
This is the epitome of xeno. I cannot say hello to the people I pass in the hallway, start a conversation with them, or ask their name, but I can offer a smile. Or even just let our eyes lock in the briefest moment of mutual understanding.
I’m learning a lot more from these little moments than I could from talking to them for hours. It’s a harder learning process…but it’s infinitely more worthwhile.
And we’re all still human. The rhythm of a conversation is ultimately the same no matter what language it’s in. I can pick up on the hum of deep thinking, the jibes of playful tones, the angry cacophony of orders…even though I can’t actually understand the individual things that are being said in Mandarin.
JP setting the example of the types of discoveries we could be having everyday if we make the jump!
Stuttgart City Library
(via alexandrawrz)
[video]
(Source: adamwests, via dontstopthefrizz)
(Source: spytap, via tumblangeles)
You’re in a helicopter flying over a post-apocalyptic, zombie-infested wasteland, heading towards a small outpost of survivors known as Abel Township. Your mission is top secret. All of a sudden, a figure appears out of the woods toting a rocket launcher and shoots your aircraft down. You survive the crash, but hordes of undead are closing in on you from all sides, eager to taste your flesh. There’s only one option: you’ve got to run. Run for your life.
This might sound like the opening sequence of the latest George A. Romero flick, or possibly even the start of some zombie shoot ‘em up game, but it’s actually the opening of a new iPhone sports app designed to help you run faster and for longer. The principle is simple: convince yourself you’re being chased by zombies, gain a quick adrenalin boost, run faster.
Zombies, Run! is primarily an immersive audio experience. You pop in your headphones, open the app on your iPhone and go for a run. While running, you listen to an intricate story written by award-winning novelist Naomi Alderman, detailing your adventures trying to escape the marauding zombie hordes which now dominate the landscape. Those adventures, perhaps unsurprisingly, invariably involve your character running from danger. While fleeing the undead, you collect items, such as medical kits, military equipment and food supplies, which - in classic strategy-game style - can be used to help build your base. This is all great fun, but what really makes this app stand out is its innovative use of the iPhone’s GPS tracking system. While you’re out running, your progress is monitored and the sound of the undead groaning in pursuit is played through your headphones. As the zombies get closer, the sound gets louder and the groans become ever more chilling. You have to run faster to escape. (via CultureLab: Run faster – zombies are chasing you)
Cooooool
(via gamefreaksnz)
This year I’ve pulled out about 15 white hairs so far, yanking them out as if doing so would prevent me from contemplating my mortality. Like any angsty 20-something-year-old, I find myself thinking about what I’m doing with my life, analyzing what I’ve accomplished and finding myself feel…wanting more.
I’ve thought about this before. I briefly thought this insatiability stemmed from a lack of appreciation with what I have. However, more recently I’ve come to understand that it comes from the need for me to honor what I have and where I’ve come from.
As I’ve gotten exposure to other people’s family structure and dynamics, I have come to understand that the environment in which I was raised might have been unique. My parents challenged me to always do better, to always be kind, and to appreciate what we have. My mother and father allowed me to choose what type of life I wanted to lead, and have been there every step of the way to support me in those decisions.
To have parents who are willing to let you make mistakes and to be there to catch you when you fall is something that I didn’t fully appreciate until recently. It’s there love and support that makes me who I am today. It’s their love and support that makes me want to work harder, work smarter, in order to give back to them.
Anything I am today, is because of the values that they have instilled in me.
Mom and Dad, thank you for believing in me, loving me, and supporting me no matter what.
Superman’s Profile Picture - by Agustinus Kwa Hong Yen
(via marcstandley)