My students recently studied all there was to know about holidays. Among the knowledge they acquired was that, "The two main symbols of Easter are Easter eggs and a bunny."

Inspired, I ran to the local supermarket to pick up some Easter eggs for an egg hunt. Shockingly enough, there either were none to begin with or they were already sold out, so I had to settle for hard-boiled eggs for this year's A.B. Sirles Family Egg Hunt.

I hid 15 hard-boiled eggs around the house, mostly inside, but I did manage to balance one on the ledge of our 4th floor apartment. Austin had a great time searching. Here's a slide show with several pictures of the hunt:

After Austin had found all of the eggs, we dyed the eggs. We used some oil pastels to draw designs before adding color with dye. Though I was not surprised, Austin's artistic ability did impress me quite a lot!

The happy egg-coloring couple:

Our basket of eggs:

Here's a little slide show with the eggs we made, including what they're each supposed to be and who created them:

An excellent phenomenon starts going on about this time of year. The weather feels like spring, the sun is out, the birds are chirping, and we, thrilled at signs of Spring, put on shorts and t-shirts in celebration of this long overdue temperature change.

But... looking around, no one else is dressed like us. They're all wearing pants, many are still wearing winter jackets, the babies are bundled to the MAX, and yesterday, I even saw a woman wearing pants that were puffy and thick like a snowsuit! Really? (I mean, this crazy, too-many-clothes thing is not going down inside climate controlled homes; no, everyone is walking around under the furiously shining sun.)

Well, I think people here are even more amazed at our lack of clothes than we are at the excess of theirs. More people than usual (which is quite a lot) stop to stare at our partially bare arms and legs. Then you hear them talking about us, "很健康” which means "So healthy!"

Yes, if you wear less than, oh, I'd say two or three layers of clothing this time of year, you could very well be marveled at. I often walk into class and remove my coat only to be greeted with a collective gasp of "ooooh!" and "eh-sku-sah-me, are you cold?" When I smile and respond, "No, not at all," there are always several who sigh in admiration, "Oh, you are so healssy!"

And now, the featured photos for this entry. Number one is a picture of Austin with some people we visited recently. You'll note the contrast in wardrobe:

And the second picture. This is what an infant or toddler looks like from winter all the way into the spring season. These kids are bundled up!

Austin bought me a bike for Valentine's Day/ my half-birthday. It's blue and it has a basket. (It used to have a bell but it broke. Now I make my own bell noises with my mouth when I want to pass somebody on the street.)

The bike was super great and useful, but with just one bike, we weren't getting to use it when we wanted to go places as a couple, which is pretty much all the time. (One time I did sit on the back metal rack while Aus rode, and while many people here do this, I thought it was terrifying.)

SO... A few weeks ago, one of our friends was moving out of town and I bought his bike from him. I didn't try out the bike before agreeing to buy it. I paid about $6 for the bike. It's probably worth $1 or $2. Total. Piece. of. Junk. When Austin rides it, it shakes and rattles, but it also rolls just fine.

Here are our wheels:

We like to call the blue one the Prius. It's fast, efficient, and perfect for a girl on the go!

The red one, on the other hand, is the Ferrari. It's racer-red, a classic edition, and oh, so dangerous!

At some point during the past couple of years, some sort of secret memo must have gone out that our home is the new McDonald's Play Place. There are probably 20-25 different kids who have some at some point or another, some quite frequently and others just once or twice. They like playing here because I suppose they kind of have free reign and if they sense we're telling them not to do something, they can just pretend not to understand.

Well, there's one little friend who is so stinking cute! He's probably about seven years old, super tiny, has no front teeth, and has a little raspy voice. Whenever he knocks on the door, I can't help but smile. He's actually here right now, and he and Austin are playing a computer game together.

The two strategic masterminds at work:

Here's a picture of him standing next to Austin. He's so little!

He was so happy and excited to have his picture taken. Love that smile!

April has been a great teaching month so far.

April 2-3: Weekend
April 4-6: Grave-Sweeping Festival: No School
April 9-10: Weekend
April 11-13: Student Testing, which means the foreigners are off the hook

The weather has been beautiful which has made it easier to get up, get some breakfast, do some reading and studying, grab a late lunch, and have the afternoon to play! So yesterday we went for a fantastic little bike ride on some small roads we'd not explored before, and today after lunch, we headed outside for a little Frisbee golf. We just made up our own ridiculous courses and had a great time. (And, on the last hole, I even scored one below par!)

Ah, Vitamin D, I do love you!

I was riding my bike down the street yesterday afternoon, taking advantage of the sunshine. Back streets here are full of little treasures. Shops come and go, sometimes remaining for a season, at other times popping up for just a few weeks at a time to sell some excess factory merchandise. Today I passed a shop full of bras with a huge sign reading, 10 RMB. Well, friends, that’s roughly $1.50 for a bra, and there was no riding by.

Here’s the downside to bra shopping in China: Most of the inexpensive bras are marked with a band size (32, 34, etc.) BUT there’s no letter because for the most part, everyone here wears about an “A” (I mean, it seems pretty obviously apparent, though I’ve not conducted an official survey). SO… I and my other C and D friends were not personally going to have any luck at this store, but I did have a little friend getting married soon, and I decided to be more than prepared for any bridal showers popping up.

So I parked and locked my bike and walked into this little shop with a bargain bin in the middle, bras lining every wall, and a megaphone repetitively announcing that there were bras available for just 10 RMB. I began shopping for my friend’s size, carefully making selections when suddenly, there was a man standing in front of me waving a bra in my face and jabbering a bit too fast, probably some bra-specific words my tutor hasn’t covered in our sessions just yet.

I wondered to myself, “Who is this man?” and take a look around the store. Suddenly, I realized, “Wow, this man runs the store!” Now, a man running into a store to riffle through a bra bargain bin for his wife is one thing. But imagine this man in kindergarten when asked, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” Did he say, “I want to work in a seasonal bra shop and wave bras in the faces of unsuspecting women”? Well, whatever the case, seemed to be thriving in his working environment.

He pointed out the features of this bra, including the lace and the fact that it was filled with watery liquid for whatever effect those bras are supposed to have and forced the bra into my hand. I took it and said thank you before turning away and burying my head in another rack of bras where I could privately laugh at the surprise of this unashamed man providing bra recommendations. I pulled my jacked around me a little more fully as I briefly became aware of this man’s awareness of my size in making recommendations.

I continued shopping and he seemed fairly interested in what was going on with the customers in the store. Finally, I had it down to 4 bras, two of which were the same color scheme. I was really debating which to buy and finally decided to invite him into the inner circle of my decision-making. “Which one do you like?” I asked him. He gave me a pretty definite answer. What a shopping partner.

And so, if you happen to be that friend with an upcoming bridal shower, get ready for some nice bras.

Chosen just for you with love,
Me and the Bra Guy

Before coming to China, when I thought of Chinese people, I often conjured up images of a bunch of really skinny people, people living in a beautiful country-- much of it looking like the pictures of ancient China we see on calendars, people eating rice, people making great academic achievements. And, I was right at least in part on each of these fronts.

However, in light of so many skinny people, what I wouldn't have pictured is the lack of health in the food here. Now, I know America has its share of health violations in the eating department, though I'd say Austin and I strive to eat healthier than many/most Americans when possible and reasonable.  So, I have been amazed and challenged by so many things in the food arena here, for example:

-Many/most street foods are deep fried.
-The first three ingredients in almost all foods you can buy pre-packaged in the supermarket are white flour, oil, and sugar. (There aren't really "baked- not fried" options or whole grain options.) All dried fruits except for the occasional raisins are sugar-coated. All "juice", save for one brand, is only 10-30% juice.
-People somewhat rarely drink milk that doesn't have a bunch of sugar and sweet fruity flavoring to it.
-Just about every dish we've had in restaurants here comes bathed in oil (among other liquids, I'm sure, but the oil is unmistakeably present.)
-There are not very many whole grains available-- no whole wheat flour, whole grain bread, no brown rice to speak of, no whole wheat pasta (though the fact that they have pasta at all is impressive to us, so we don't complain).
-Oil is sold by the gallon, actually probably in 1.5-2 gallon containers.
-Pork fat. Everywhere. And little knowledge that it's not nutritious... We've been to more than one home where one of the dishes is literally a big bowl of just chunks of straight pork fat with seasoning on it. Not kidding. Not exaggerating. At all. In some approximation of Austin's words as we walked down the street looking into shops for lunch, "I feel like my choice to not eat pork fat seriously limits my dining options in this country."

(Before I go further, let me say that I'm not trying to be a health snob. Whole grains and healthy foods have not always been at the top of my list, and still, I totally love reaching for the Oreos once in a while... I'm just saying I like to have options when possible.)

SO... What is the point? Well, partially just to share what's going on in the food department over here, but also to point out the sheer miraculous quality of this:

Yes, what on earth are the chances? While walking down some back streets in a nearby town a week or so ago, I happened into a shop that carries a few foreign food goods from time to time. When I wandered to the back aisle, my heart started beating much faster at the sight of these little goods: Brown rice powder and wheat germ!

I feel like this is the point when I realize I've gotten caught up writing and have spent quite some time building to the point I sat down and began typing to mention, and now it's like that awkward silence in a story when there's just nothing else to say. And it wasn't even a very good story.

The weather has been awful lately. In the past two months, we've probably seen the sun less than a handful of days.

So many days before that...          4 days ago...          3 days ago...              2 days ago...            yesterday...           SUNDAY!!!

So today, we put on some shorts and went out to play! We met up with some friends at the college and played some ping pong. Not being a big fan of any sport involving a ball (mostly due to lack of coordination and scarring childhood experiences), at first I served as photographer. Later on, however, I decided to take a shot at playing. Here's just one of the winning shots. You will note my excellent ping pong form, I hope:

On sunny days, we're not the only ones that go out to play... So does every blanket and piece of clothing on campus, it seems! Everyone likes to air out their quilts and dry their clothes. Our campus itself looks something like a quilt with all the different blankets draped over bushes, grass, trees, and anything else in the way!

On Friday, we were looking behind the backboard of our bed in the secret compartment and ran across a coupon I'd given Aus for some holiday months and months ago. The coupon was made out for the "Sirles Spa," an at-home spa event just for Austin. In ways, Austin enjoys pampering (back rubs, foot massages, the works) more than many girls I know. So he didn't waste any time cashing in the coupon last night. We had a really fun and relaxing time, especially Austin.

First, he soaked his feet for about 15 minutes while eating some french bread pizza we made together.

Foot soak recipe:
14 cups of hot water
3 cups of milk

After his feet were soaked, I dried them off and exfoliated them with the following mixture.

Foot exfoliation recipe:
1/2 cup white sugar
2 Tablespoons lotion

I exfoliated for about 5 minutes and then rinsed his feet in clear, cool water.

I also made this body scrub which he used on his chest and back.

Body scrub recipe:
1 cup oats
1 cup brown sugar
2/3 cup oil (The oil would have been best as olive oil, but that's way too expensive here, so we used some good old sunflower oil, high in vitamin E.)

This is sticky, so it needs to be rinsed off really well after exfoliating!

The picture featured above is Austin enjoying a seaweed paste mask, a "green melon the nose membrane," and a "rose hip anti-wrinkle and moisturizing eye mask pack."

So really, I'm not really a big fan of this page of my blog. I think it's a good idea, and I'd love to write more about my heart, I'm just not so sure about publishing it out for the world to see.

But I'd like to try a little. Lately, (and by lately I mean pretty much my whole life, though lately it's been particularly driving me crazy), I've had a ridiculous preoccupation with what others think of me. Here, in this place, especially, I am so often anxious of what others think of me. I'm living in a place where the subtler qualities of one's personality (subtle humor, occasional sarcasm, a quiet raise of the eyebrows to jest at something ridiculous going down, a quiet word, clearly and quietly understanding the local language) are not often noticed. I'm also living alongside of my best friend, someone with a not-so-subtle personality in many ways. He's my partner and my soul mate in every way; he's perfect for me. However, as he cracks jokes, unreservedly enters into conversations in a foreign language, and is often applauded as the life of the party in this culture, it's caused me to reflect a whole lot more on what it means for me to be secure, what it means for me to truly not care what others think, pretty much for my self worth not to hang on whether someone else thinks I'm cool.

I ran across this quote today... There are so many intertwined wires in my brain that I don't know whether reading the quote in the context of what I'm writing will make sense to others, but it's my heart on my sleeve, and it makes sense to me:

"Great tranquility of heart is his who cares for neither praise nor blame."

I want this tranquility of heart, to be the girl who cares for neither praise nor blame. I don't want my self-worth, my security, to hang on whether another person likes me, whether they think I'm great because I'm a foreigner or they think I'm unintelligent because I can't think on my feet to utter words in a foreign language, whether they think I'm pretty because my eyes or blue or they think that my fashion is crazy because I don't care if my clothes are dirty or my hair is out of place, whether they think I'm the best teacher in the world because I'm creative or they think I'm awful because I'll gladly abandon a lesson plan to re-direct toward student needs and issues at hand, whether they think I'm fun or they think I'm clueless as I sit thinking hilarious thoughts that I just can't quite express across the language barrier.

I want to love. I want to be free. I want to run, unashamedly, unhindered by what others think. I just want to be me. I want to forget who others want to me to be, for my ears to be deafened to the roaring applause and the mocking laughter for long enough to consider only what I was made for, who I am.