Student Essays on China Sounds of Learning™ students who have either lived in or visited China were asked to write an essay on their experiences in the country. Here are a few of the essays we received. How do their experiences compare with what you see of China on television, or how it is portrayed in the opera Turandot? Made in China by Wenyi, University City High School I am a high school student at University City High School in Philadelphia. I came to the U.S.A on September 18, 2007. I am a Chinese boy, and I am 20-years-old. I’m very happy to have come to this new country. I came from Sichuan Province. Sichuan Province is on the southwest part of China. Everybody knows this name, because of the earthquake in May, 2008. The capital city of Sichuan is called Chengdu, but I was not born there. I was born in Neijiang, a small city on the east part of Sichuan, where I lived for thirteen years. When I was 13 years old, I moved to Chengdu for study. Let’s talk about the educational system in Sichuan. There are five levels of school in China, including primary school, middle school (or junior high school), high school (senior high school), and college. There are six years for primary school, three years for middle school, three years for high school, and 4 years for college. Primary school and middle school are compulsory. Every kid has to go to begin primary school at the age of six, seven or eight. Later the kids have to move to middle school. After that, the students can choose whether or not to attend high school. If they want to go, they have to take a test. The score determines which high school they can go to. After three years of high school there is another test that determines which college they can attend. I came to the U.S.A. when I was in the second year of high school. In Sichuan, high school has 14 periods each day, which includes ten periods for classes and four for studying by ourselves. We usually arrive at school at 7:20 a.m. The first period starts at 7:30; it is only 30 minutes long and is the time for recitation. After the first period, we have other five periods in the morning, each one lasting forty minutes. Between two periods there is a ten minute break, and between 2nd and 3rd period we have to do some physical exercise, like running. We usually finish the morning classes at 12:10 p.m. After lunch we have two hours for siesta. The afternoon classes start at 2:10 p.m. in the summer and or 2:30 p.m. There are four periods in afternoon; each is forty minutes long with a ten minute break between two periods. Around 6:00 p.m. all classes have finished for primary school, but for middle and high school students, school isn’t over. After dinner we have three more periods to study by ourselves. This usually starts at 7:00 p.m. The first and second evening periods are 40 minutes long and the third one is ninety minutes long, and again, there are ten minute breaks between periods. We usually finish school at 10:00 p.m. in the evening! In middle school and high school, we attend school six days per week, from Monday to Saturday. Primary school students only have to go five days. We study Chinese, math, English, physics, chemistry, biology, history, geography, politics, music, and physical education each day. In Chinese schools, the schedule of these classes changes daily. Students do not choose the subjects, the school chooses for us. Each student is assigned to a classroom where the student remains all day. Each period, the different teachers come to the classroom to teach. The students only change classrooms for music and physical education. We have to wear uniforms when we are in school. We buy the uniform from the school, and the uniform is looks really foolish. There is no public school and private school in China. Every school requires tuition, but some are more expensive than others. Some schools have a cafeteria, but you have to buy the food. The traffic of Chengdu is almost the same as in Philadelphia. The difference is that the roads of Chengdu are wider and more level than those of Philadelphia. Because there are a lot of bikes in Chengdu, there is a bike lane beside the sidewalk. There is no subway in Chengdu, but there are more than four hundred bus lines in the city. While there are a lot of cars in Chengdu, most people go to work by bike or bus. Only a few people drive their car to work, because it is hard to find a place to park. Students ride bike to school. People feel very uncomfortable much of the time because the weather in Chengdu is warm and the air is very wet. In Chengdu, people like peppery food, which makes people feel better! Because Chengdu is an inland city, people have a difficult time getting seafood. The most popular foods in the city are pork, bamboo shoots, and mushrooms. We like to use a lot of oil in cooking, although sometimes the smoking oil will make the kitchen look terrible, and it smells bad. As a result, American landlords don’t like Chinese lodgers cooking in their rooms. We use chopsticks for eating, and the staple food is rice. In China, people think the most important thing is food. We don’t say “Hi” when we meet friends on the street. We usually will ask “did you have your meal?” when greeting people. We also have some special rules about food for special occasions. For example, during Chinese New Year, all of the family will have a grand dinner with all of the relatives. For dinner, every family member will eat fish, but some of the fish must remain on the plate. This is because in Chinese the pronunciation of “fish” and “remain” are the same, so that having fish means every year many things will remain the same. It’s a kind of blessing. Everybody knows China has a huge population. My city, Chengdu, has eight million people. There is a very beautiful shopping road called Chun Xi Road. It is called a road but it’s only 150 meters long and 20 meters wide. If you want to see a “sea of people”, you must go to Chun Xi Road in the evening, when there are more than ten thousand people on the street at the same time. There are a lot of shops and emporiums on the two sides of the street. Every evening when people finish their work, they like to go to Chun Xi road for shopping or just to take a walk. However, you will not see many old people on Chun Xi Road, because there is another place that old people like to go. The place is called a teahouse, but it’s different from the teahouses in other cities in China. The teahouse in Chengdu is in the open air, while most teahouses are in a park. Old people like this place. They come to drink tea, or play chess or cards. They bring their pets, like birds, or goldfish and they can always find some other people who have the same pets as they do. The old people find happiness in the teahouse. China has had big changes in last ten years, even though many people in other countries still think China is a poor and backward country. They get this mistaken image from some old movies or old books. Ten years ago, they would have been right. But now they have to change their minds, they have to know China again, or they have to learn about the new China. The place where I come from cannot represent the whole China, but I hope I gave you an impression of what China is like today. I hope you like China, and I also hope you can visit China in the future. ---------------------------------------------------------- China, by Sylvia, New Hope-Solebury School District My most vivid memories of China are the exotic images I remember from when I was six. My two older sisters and I had one month to visit the Great Wall of China and The Forbidden City of Beijing, to shop in the lively city of Shanghai, and go hiking on mountains of the rural Sichuan. We arrived in Beijing where I was overwhelmed with tall skyscrapers and an innumerable amount of bicycles. Bicycles were parked in rows on sidewalks and parking lots. I would explore the markets that smelled like raw meat and fish. The Great Wall of China was like a crumbling cookie made of stone. We climbed up steep, crowded hills with the sun sinking into our skin. The Forbidden City was a large open space with walls, with grass growing through the bricks. I remember it, hot and dusty. During a heat wave, The Forbidden City can seem rather dull. We took a plane to Shanghai and flashes of color and blurred city lights remain in my memory. Shanghai is Times Square but ten times bigger. Of course my sisters and I were driven by the shopping and I clearly remember picking out a Barbie doll in a red, Chinese, lace dress called a cheongsam, and lots of Pink Hello-Kitty products. The Pearl Tower was like a dream to me. Looking out onto the ghosted city of Shanghai was amazing, but creepy for during the day the gray skyscrapers looked like gravestones. We jumped from hotel to hotel like monkeys. We stayed at one extravagant hotel with an Art Deco style from the 30’s, where there was carved wood in every room and sweets were served for every meal. Sichuan was beautiful, with gardens, waterfalls and tall mountains to climb, while pleading my mom to carry my back pack. In Sichuan we stayed at a professor of Daoism’s apartment for two weeks. I played with dolls with a girl named Zhu (which translates in English to Pearl). We asked her cousin to translate for us, but we ended up making a type of sign language with our hands. Our babysitter taught us how to paint red goldfish with our brushes vertical, while playing a pipa, similar to a Chinese lute. My family saw adorable pandas in cages, with black spots around their eyes. We climbed up the very tall, sacred mountain Emei. After climbing over trails and bridges that went over immense waterfalls, we saw lots of monkeys leaping from tree to tree. When one attack my sister’s purse and sent the whole forest of monkeys screeching, my sister’s friend explained her phobia of monkeys. Even from age six, China was exciting enough for me to think back to now at age 11. Images of the old architecture to new city-like skyscrapers, I still carry in my mind along with the hot sun of Beijing, the vibrant colors of Shanghai and green lotus plants on ponds, and rushing water falls of Sichuan. I tried to bargain with street marketers and climb a sacred mountain. The memories of experiencing China, still gives me the thrill or urge to go back and remember more. ---------------------------------------------------------- My View of China, by Cathy Lee, Academy of Notre Dame Up until about four years ago, when I thought of China, I thought of dirty, impoverish lands with small houses and poor people. However, my experience there was showed me the exact opposite. With the exception of one small mainland Chinese town called Fu Yong, the cities I visited were very modern and westernized. Walking around the streets of Hong Kong and Shanghai was no different than walking in Philadelphia or New York City. Though China is constantly changing and modernizing because of western influence, many of the country’s old traditions remain the same. The typical formal manner of welcoming someone is with a slight bow, an action that is often stereotyped with greeting anyone of Asian culture. An obvious action Americans would expect Chinese to do is use chopsticks. However, contrary to an uninformed American assumption, the use of forks and knives is permitted and is not offensive. Americans also tend to believe that the food in China is the same as the Chinese cuisine we eat in the US. Conversely, authentic Chinese cooking does not just consist of sushi and egg rolls; the Chinese are adventurous in their style of food preparation. Many of the coastal cities take advantage of the food supply offered by life in the water, and the restaurants are able to serve delicacies such as eel, jellyfish and shark fin soup. The Chinese cities have also kept the tradition of bargain markets, an old practice that Americans have also adapted with our street vendors. In addition to the traditional greetings, food and shopping, a new part of Chinese culture has been the country’s incredible innovation with technology. The City of Hong Kong is home to some of the world’s largest technology franchises, with buildings such as Canon and Panasonic on the view of the Hong Kong harbor. My travels to China have shown me a country that is entirely different than what I expected. I was surprised to find the familiar western stores and fast food places in the cities, yet I was also incredibly grateful that I was able to experience some traditional Chinese customs. The experience has taught me that American stereotypes can be sometimes ignorant or ill informed, and there is much more to each and every foreign country than the tiny portion of it we see from the United States. ---------------------------------------------------------- Mastering Chopsticks, by Kyla, New Hope-Solebury School District We were seated in a booth at the Golden Chopsticks Chinese restaurant in my father’s business complex, and our food had finally come. Unlike the rest of my family, my chopstick skills were anything but golden, despite my determination. At the age of eight, I didn’t know that there would be any necessity to eating with chopsticks; I saw no reason for them. What I wouldn’t realize for a few years was how much I would grow to admire Asian culture, from chopsticks to dynastic eras. What I did know then was that a little motivation would go a long way. My frustration over my wooden nemesis led to some commotion at our dinner table, which my parents calmly dealt with. “Why do I need to learn how to use chopsticks, anyway?” I grumbled crossly, my lo mein slithering helplessly off my raised utensils. “Maybe you’ll visit China one day and I don’t think they have forks there,” my father optimistically replied. “When will we go?” I persisted. “Kyla, we will go when you have mastered using chopsticks,” he continued exasperatedly. It took me all of two days. That was the last time my father made any serious bets with me. It wasn’t long before I was using chopsticks to eat everything I could, including foods like single rice grains and Jell-o. My father told my mother to book a trip to China, since he had promised. Strings of hope tied around my heart as anticipation for a soon-to-be trip swam through my thoughts. Disaster struck – the day my mother was to book the trip, I came down with pneumonia. I could feel myself unraveling, crestfallen from the delay to our plans. How could I ever use my chopstick mastery sufficiently now? Two years later, my father came home with a surprise. “The World Health Organization asked me to participate in a health initiative in China.” he paused, looked at me and said “I accepted, but with one condition,” then smiled. From that point on, it was settled, and on September 8th, 2002, we began our eighteen-hour trip toward the Orient. A promise fulfilled. Our base city was the capital, Beijing, and in our collective travels, we visited several cities, including Hangzhou, Xi’an, Shanghai, and Suzhou. I can’t imagine three weeks of my life that could have gone any faster. Within each city was a new chapter, a new story to be unfolded from ancient texts that were hidden throughout the country’s library. Within this library, we discovered the heights and magnificence of the Great Wall of China, witnessed the silent army of the Terra Cotta Warriors, and walked the ancient halls of the Summer Palace, Tiananmen Square, and the Forbidden City. There were myriad sights to absorb, from the beautiful architecture and structured gardens to the sheer history that had been kept preserved in every crevice of every temple we passed through. If there was one thing that I was able to bring home from my trip to China, it was the gift of knowledge and acceptance I developed from the places we had visited. Never had I seen such modesty and contentment in any city, along with the honour and ebullience that was evident from each citizen’s words. It was clear when speaking with people in China that they were proud and at peace with their style of life and place in history. Leaving China, I hoped that those feelings expressed to our family would never fade, because it was that strength of character that defined each person as part of an ancient tradition and vibrant personal memory. Currently, as I look back at those experiences in China, I seek new challenges to master that might someday win earn me another trip to the East. Martial Arts seems to have peaked a childhood interest, so when you hear about a Kung Fu master from New Hope, expect to see her on the next flight to Beijing. ---------------------------------------------------------- Proud to be an ABC by Lucy, Academy of Notre Dame During the 1,988th year of the Common Era, my mom and dad embarked on “the road to opportunity” aboard a magical flying machine. One would like to imagine they were clad in white space suits, teleporting into the future on a high-tech apparatus, but reality paints quite a different picture: my parents were actually traveling aboard a Boeing 757 airplane to Philadelphia, similar to the passage of the first European colonists, only a few centuries too late, however. Together, my parents not only emigrated from Shanghai, China, but also bravely abandoned everything they were accustomed to back in their home country. With only fifty dollars each in their pockets and two ragged suitcases, my parents spent their first few months living in a tiny, cramped closet of an apartment room, which was also coincidentally, tiny and cramped. Like the first settlers in America, they also tenaciously clung onto their Chinese culture, reviving traditional recipes and scrimping change like they did during the Cultural Revolution as kids. Yet, they were also quite content; my dad marveled at the $1 gallons of milk, and my mom relished yard sales where she could purchase “European high-fashion” pieces for a quarter. Four years later, I came into the picture as a crying, pampered infant, but nevertheless, my parents loved me so. Months after I was born, I was brought to China to be raised by my grandparents as my parents strived to earn and save enough money to raise me in the US. However, they say, when I returned to the States a year later, I hardly recognized my parents—I regarded my mom as a kidnapping auntie and refused to fall into the embrace of her arms. I must have been a huge disappointment to my parents, but nevertheless, my mom and dad still loved me so. As a first-generation American-born Chinese, or ABC as I have dubbed myself, for the next fourteen years, I grew up to be a healthy toddler and a curious elementary school student under the guidance of my parents. At school, I was also quickly mastering English, chowing down on pizza and hot dogs, and celebrating Halloween. Quickly, they were, too, embodying the American dream as they bought their first car and their first townhouse, and my mom opened her Chinese medicine and acupuncture clinic. Yet, my parents also carefully raised me to remember and value my cultural roots; at home, I was constantly surrounded by Chinese culture, whether it be listening to Beijing Opera, playing badminton and ping pong, celebrating Chinese New Year, eating tofu and stir-fries, or attending Chinese School to improve my Chinese. Since Chinese was my first language and we spoke it at home, I knew how to speak, listen to, read, and write Mandarin as well as the dialect of Shanghai; in the 3rd grade, I was the language prophet in the eyes of my peers, whom, if they were lucky, were bestowed with a Chinese nick-name handwritten by myself. Yet too quickly, I developed to into the archetypal naïve, ungrateful, and recalcitrant pre-teen. I started to resent my parents and my Chinese heritage as I struggled to fit in with my American peers; I wanted blonde hair and “normal” parents who did not need constant Chinese-English translation. Thus, when I traveled to China the summer before 7th grade with my dad, though he enthusiastically endorsed the idea of visiting Beijing, the historical capital, with my cousin and uncle, I anticipated little of the trip. In the sweltering August humidity, I could pay little attention to our tour guide as I busily swatted away mosquitoes and gazed at the pretty souvenir boutiques, and to be honest, I probably enjoyed giggling with my cousin on the top bunk during the train ride more than visiting the historical attractions. Nevertheless, the tour was in the end, quite successful in my dad’s viewpoint; we had visited the Forbidden City, Tian Tan, and the Summer Palace, and we even trekked to the top of the Great Wall. I, however, came home with little recollection of the trip to Beijing, besides a few postcards, key chains, and photos as reminder. Now five years later, I chuckle at my frivolity for wasting such an opportunity of a lifetime. Today, I am thankful for my father’s meticulous documentation of our entire trip—I can retrace my footsteps in Beijing through pictures, videos, maps, and tourist brochures. I revisit the trip with a renewed sense of pride in my heritage; I awe at the grandeur of the Great Wall of China, the regality of Tian’anmen Square and the Forbidden City, the extravagance of the Summer Palace, and the ethereality of Tian Tan. Luckily, I am fortunate to have the opportunity to return to Shanghai and China almost every summer to visit relatives and friends. Yes, the food is scrumptious, and the bargain shopping is fabulous, but most importantly, those trips have taught me that I will always have my family; whether it be at a reunion in Shanghai with dozens of loving relatives, so many that I have trouble identifying who is who, or back in the US thousands of miles away, I know everyone is still cheering me on. Today, I realize that my journey from my childhood self has also allowed me to gain such a strong appreciation for my diverse culture and in this wonderful country that have given my family everything materially and spiritually gratifying in exchange for my parents’ hard-work and an initial deposit of a mere $100. Most importantly, I am most grateful for the sacrifices my parents have made; the educational opportunities that I have received here in the US have transformed me into the worldly young woman I am today. Today, in every photo of my dad and me from that trip to Beijing years ago, I no longer see a playful little girl, but a proud, Chinese-American. I guess, in some ways, one can say that my parents’ journey has been more exhilarating and fruitful than any spacecraft mission—they have planted a seed for an ambitious daughter, eager to impact and influence the world.
Student Essays on China
Sounds of Learning™ students who have either lived in or visited China were asked to write an essay on their experiences in the country. Here are a few of the essays we received. How do their experiences compare with what you see of China on television, or how it is portrayed in the opera Turandot?
Made in China by Wenyi, University City High School
I am a high school student at University City High School in Philadelphia. I came to the U.S.A on September 18, 2007. I am a Chinese boy, and I am 20-years-old. I’m very happy to have come to this new country.
I came from Sichuan Province. Sichuan Province is on the southwest part of China. Everybody knows this name, because of the earthquake in May, 2008. The capital city of Sichuan is called Chengdu, but I was not born there. I was born in Neijiang, a small city on the east part of Sichuan, where I lived for thirteen years. When I was 13 years old, I moved to Chengdu for study.
Let’s talk about the educational system in Sichuan. There are five levels of school in China, including primary school, middle school (or junior high school), high school (senior high school), and college. There are six years for primary school, three years for middle school, three years for high school, and 4 years for college. Primary school and middle school are compulsory. Every kid has to go to begin primary school at the age of six, seven or eight. Later the kids have to move to middle school. After that, the students can choose whether or not to attend high school. If they want to go, they have to take a test. The score determines which high school they can go to. After three years of high school there is another test that determines which college they can attend.
I came to the U.S.A. when I was in the second year of high school. In Sichuan, high school has 14 periods each day, which includes ten periods for classes and four for studying by ourselves. We usually arrive at school at 7:20 a.m. The first period starts at 7:30; it is only 30 minutes long and is the time for recitation. After the first period, we have other five periods in the morning, each one lasting forty minutes. Between two periods there is a ten minute break, and between 2nd and 3rd period we have to do some physical exercise, like running. We usually finish the morning classes at 12:10 p.m. After lunch we have two hours for siesta. The afternoon classes start at 2:10 p.m. in the summer and or 2:30 p.m. There are four periods in afternoon; each is forty minutes long with a ten minute break between two periods. Around 6:00 p.m. all classes have finished for primary school, but for middle and high school students, school isn’t over. After dinner we have three more periods to study by ourselves. This usually starts at 7:00 p.m. The first and second evening periods are 40 minutes long and the third one is ninety minutes long, and again, there are ten minute breaks between periods. We usually finish school at 10:00 p.m. in the evening! In middle school and high school, we attend school six days per week, from Monday to Saturday. Primary school students only have to go five days.
We study Chinese, math, English, physics, chemistry, biology, history, geography, politics, music, and physical education each day. In Chinese schools, the schedule of these classes changes daily. Students do not choose the subjects, the school chooses for us. Each student is assigned to a classroom where the student remains all day. Each period, the different teachers come to the classroom to teach. The students only change classrooms for music and physical education.
We have to wear uniforms when we are in school. We buy the uniform from the school, and the uniform is looks really foolish. There is no public school and private school in China. Every school requires tuition, but some are more expensive than others. Some schools have a cafeteria, but you have to buy the food.
The traffic of Chengdu is almost the same as in Philadelphia. The difference is that the roads of Chengdu are wider and more level than those of Philadelphia. Because there are a lot of bikes in Chengdu, there is a bike lane beside the sidewalk. There is no subway in Chengdu, but there are more than four hundred bus lines in the city. While there are a lot of cars in Chengdu, most people go to work by bike or bus. Only a few people drive their car to work, because it is hard to find a place to park. Students ride bike to school.
People feel very uncomfortable much of the time because the weather in Chengdu is warm and the air is very wet. In Chengdu, people like peppery food, which makes people feel better! Because Chengdu is an inland city, people have a difficult time getting seafood. The most popular foods in the city are pork, bamboo shoots, and mushrooms. We like to use a lot of oil in cooking, although sometimes the smoking oil will make the kitchen look terrible, and it smells bad. As a result, American landlords don’t like Chinese lodgers cooking in their rooms. We use chopsticks for eating, and the staple food is rice.
In China, people think the most important thing is food. We don’t say “Hi” when we meet friends on the street. We usually will ask “did you have your meal?” when greeting people. We also have some special rules about food for special occasions. For example, during Chinese New Year, all of the family will have a grand dinner with all of the relatives. For dinner, every family member will eat fish, but some of the fish must remain on the plate. This is because in Chinese the pronunciation of “fish” and “remain” are the same, so that having fish means every year many things will remain the same. It’s a kind of blessing.
Everybody knows China has a huge population. My city, Chengdu, has eight million people. There is a very beautiful shopping road called Chun Xi Road. It is called a road but it’s only 150 meters long and 20 meters wide. If you want to see a “sea of people”, you must go to Chun Xi Road in the evening, when there are more than ten thousand people on the street at the same time. There are a lot of shops and emporiums on the two sides of the street. Every evening when people finish their work, they like to go to Chun Xi road for shopping or just to take a walk.
However, you will not see many old people on Chun Xi Road, because there is another place that old people like to go. The place is called a teahouse, but it’s different from the teahouses in other cities in China. The teahouse in Chengdu is in the open air, while most teahouses are in a park. Old people like this place. They come to drink tea, or play chess or cards. They bring their pets, like birds, or goldfish and they can always find some other people who have the same pets as they do. The old people find happiness in the teahouse.
China has had big changes in last ten years, even though many people in other countries still think China is a poor and backward country. They get this mistaken image from some old movies or old books. Ten years ago, they would have been right. But now they have to change their minds, they have to know China again, or they have to learn about the new China. The place where I come from cannot represent the whole China, but I hope I gave you an impression of what China is like today. I hope you like China, and I also hope you can visit China in the future.
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China, by Sylvia, New Hope-Solebury School District
My most vivid memories of China are the exotic images I remember from when I was six. My two older sisters and I had one month to visit the Great Wall of China and The Forbidden City of Beijing, to shop in the lively city of Shanghai, and go hiking on mountains of the rural Sichuan.
We arrived in Beijing where I was overwhelmed with tall skyscrapers and an innumerable amount of bicycles. Bicycles were parked in rows on sidewalks and parking lots. I would explore the markets that smelled like raw meat and fish. The Great Wall of China was like a crumbling cookie made of stone. We climbed up steep, crowded hills with the sun sinking into our skin. The Forbidden City was a large open space with walls, with grass growing through the bricks. I remember it, hot and dusty. During a heat wave, The Forbidden City can seem rather dull.
We took a plane to Shanghai and flashes of color and blurred city lights remain in my memory. Shanghai is Times Square but ten times bigger. Of course my sisters and I were driven by the shopping and I clearly remember picking out a Barbie doll in a red, Chinese, lace dress called a cheongsam, and lots of Pink Hello-Kitty products. The Pearl Tower was like a dream to me. Looking out onto the ghosted city of Shanghai was amazing, but creepy for during the day the gray skyscrapers looked like gravestones. We jumped from hotel to hotel like monkeys. We stayed at one extravagant hotel with an Art Deco style from the 30’s, where there was carved wood in every room and sweets were served for every meal.
Sichuan was beautiful, with gardens, waterfalls and tall mountains to climb, while pleading my mom to carry my back pack. In Sichuan we stayed at a professor of Daoism’s apartment for two weeks. I played with dolls with a girl named Zhu (which translates in English to Pearl). We asked her cousin to translate for us, but we ended up making a type of sign language with our hands. Our babysitter taught us how to paint red goldfish with our brushes vertical, while playing a pipa, similar to a Chinese lute. My family saw adorable pandas in cages, with black spots around their eyes. We climbed up the very tall, sacred mountain Emei. After climbing over trails and bridges that went over immense waterfalls, we saw lots of monkeys leaping from tree to tree. When one attack my sister’s purse and sent the whole forest of monkeys screeching, my sister’s friend explained her phobia of monkeys.
Even from age six, China was exciting enough for me to think back to now at age 11. Images of the old architecture to new city-like skyscrapers, I still carry in my mind along with the hot sun of Beijing, the vibrant colors of Shanghai and green lotus plants on ponds, and rushing water falls of Sichuan. I tried to bargain with street marketers and climb a sacred mountain. The memories of experiencing China, still gives me the thrill or urge to go back and remember more.
My View of China, by Cathy Lee, Academy of Notre Dame
Up until about four years ago, when I thought of China, I thought of dirty, impoverish lands with small houses and poor people. However, my experience there was showed me the exact opposite. With the exception of one small mainland Chinese town called Fu Yong, the cities I visited were very modern and westernized. Walking around the streets of Hong Kong and Shanghai was no different than walking in Philadelphia or New York City.
Though China is constantly changing and modernizing because of western influence, many of the country’s old traditions remain the same. The typical formal manner of welcoming someone is with a slight bow, an action that is often stereotyped with greeting anyone of Asian culture. An obvious action Americans would expect Chinese to do is use chopsticks. However, contrary to an uninformed American assumption, the use of forks and knives is permitted and is not offensive. Americans also tend to believe that the food in China is the same as the Chinese cuisine we eat in the US. Conversely, authentic Chinese cooking does not just consist of sushi and egg rolls; the Chinese are adventurous in their style of food preparation. Many of the coastal cities take advantage of the food supply offered by life in the water, and the restaurants are able to serve delicacies such as eel, jellyfish and shark fin soup. The Chinese cities have also kept the tradition of bargain markets, an old practice that Americans have also adapted with our street vendors. In addition to the traditional greetings, food and shopping, a new part of Chinese culture has been the country’s incredible innovation with technology. The City of Hong Kong is home to some of the world’s largest technology franchises, with buildings such as Canon and Panasonic on the view of the Hong Kong harbor.
My travels to China have shown me a country that is entirely different than what I expected. I was surprised to find the familiar western stores and fast food places in the cities, yet I was also incredibly grateful that I was able to experience some traditional Chinese customs. The experience has taught me that American stereotypes can be sometimes ignorant or ill informed, and there is much more to each and every foreign country than the tiny portion of it we see from the United States.
Mastering Chopsticks, by Kyla, New Hope-Solebury School District
We were seated in a booth at the Golden Chopsticks Chinese restaurant in my father’s business complex, and our food had finally come. Unlike the rest of my family, my chopstick skills were anything but golden, despite my determination.
At the age of eight, I didn’t know that there would be any necessity to eating with chopsticks; I saw no reason for them. What I wouldn’t realize for a few years was how much I would grow to admire Asian culture, from chopsticks to dynastic eras. What I did know then was that a little motivation would go a long way.
My frustration over my wooden nemesis led to some commotion at our dinner table, which my parents calmly dealt with.
“Why do I need to learn how to use chopsticks, anyway?” I grumbled crossly, my lo mein slithering helplessly off my raised utensils.
“Maybe you’ll visit China one day and I don’t think they have forks there,” my father optimistically replied.
“When will we go?” I persisted.
“Kyla, we will go when you have mastered using chopsticks,” he continued exasperatedly. It took me all of two days.
That was the last time my father made any serious bets with me.
It wasn’t long before I was using chopsticks to eat everything I could, including foods like single rice grains and Jell-o. My father told my mother to book a trip to China, since he had promised. Strings of hope tied around my heart as anticipation for a soon-to-be trip swam through my thoughts.
Disaster struck – the day my mother was to book the trip, I came down with pneumonia. I could feel myself unraveling, crestfallen from the delay to our plans. How could I ever use my chopstick mastery sufficiently now?
Two years later, my father came home with a surprise.
“The World Health Organization asked me to participate in a health initiative in China.” he paused, looked at me and said “I accepted, but with one condition,” then smiled. From that point on, it was settled, and on September 8th, 2002, we began our eighteen-hour trip toward the Orient. A promise fulfilled.
Our base city was the capital, Beijing, and in our collective travels, we visited several cities, including Hangzhou, Xi’an, Shanghai, and Suzhou. I can’t imagine three weeks of my life that could have gone any faster. Within each city was a new chapter, a new story to be unfolded from ancient texts that were hidden throughout the country’s library.
Within this library, we discovered the heights and magnificence of the Great Wall of China, witnessed the silent army of the Terra Cotta Warriors, and walked the ancient halls of the Summer Palace, Tiananmen Square, and the Forbidden City. There were myriad sights to absorb, from the beautiful architecture and structured gardens to the sheer history that had been kept preserved in every crevice of every temple we passed through.
If there was one thing that I was able to bring home from my trip to China, it was the gift of knowledge and acceptance I developed from the places we had visited. Never had I seen such modesty and contentment in any city, along with the honour and ebullience that was evident from each citizen’s words. It was clear when speaking with people in China that they were proud and at peace with their style of life and place in history. Leaving China, I hoped that those feelings expressed to our family would never fade, because it was that strength of character that defined each person as part of an ancient tradition and vibrant personal memory.
Currently, as I look back at those experiences in China, I seek new challenges to master that might someday win earn me another trip to the East. Martial Arts seems to have peaked a childhood interest, so when you hear about a Kung Fu master from New Hope, expect to see her on the next flight to Beijing.
Proud to be an ABC by Lucy, Academy of Notre Dame
During the 1,988th year of the Common Era, my mom and dad embarked on “the road to opportunity” aboard a magical flying machine. One would like to imagine they were clad in white space suits, teleporting into the future on a high-tech apparatus, but reality paints quite a different picture: my parents were actually traveling aboard a Boeing 757 airplane to Philadelphia, similar to the passage of the first European colonists, only a few centuries too late, however. Together, my parents not only emigrated from Shanghai, China, but also bravely abandoned everything they were accustomed to back in their home country. With only fifty dollars each in their pockets and two ragged suitcases, my parents spent their first few months living in a tiny, cramped closet of an apartment room, which was also coincidentally, tiny and cramped. Like the first settlers in America, they also tenaciously clung onto their Chinese culture, reviving traditional recipes and scrimping change like they did during the Cultural Revolution as kids. Yet, they were also quite content; my dad marveled at the $1 gallons of milk, and my mom relished yard sales where she could purchase “European high-fashion” pieces for a quarter.
Four years later, I came into the picture as a crying, pampered infant, but nevertheless, my parents loved me so. Months after I was born, I was brought to China to be raised by my grandparents as my parents strived to earn and save enough money to raise me in the US. However, they say, when I returned to the States a year later, I hardly recognized my parents—I regarded my mom as a kidnapping auntie and refused to fall into the embrace of her arms. I must have been a huge disappointment to my parents, but nevertheless, my mom and dad still loved me so.
As a first-generation American-born Chinese, or ABC as I have dubbed myself, for the next fourteen years, I grew up to be a healthy toddler and a curious elementary school student under the guidance of my parents. At school, I was also quickly mastering English, chowing down on pizza and hot dogs, and celebrating Halloween. Quickly, they were, too, embodying the American dream as they bought their first car and their first townhouse, and my mom opened her Chinese medicine and acupuncture clinic. Yet, my parents also carefully raised me to remember and value my cultural roots; at home, I was constantly surrounded by Chinese culture, whether it be listening to Beijing Opera, playing badminton and ping pong, celebrating Chinese New Year, eating tofu and stir-fries, or attending Chinese School to improve my Chinese. Since Chinese was my first language and we spoke it at home, I knew how to speak, listen to, read, and write Mandarin as well as the dialect of Shanghai; in the 3rd grade, I was the language prophet in the eyes of my peers, whom, if they were lucky, were bestowed with a Chinese nick-name handwritten by myself.
Yet too quickly, I developed to into the archetypal naïve, ungrateful, and recalcitrant pre-teen. I started to resent my parents and my Chinese heritage as I struggled to fit in with my American peers; I wanted blonde hair and “normal” parents who did not need constant Chinese-English translation. Thus, when I traveled to China the summer before 7th grade with my dad, though he enthusiastically endorsed the idea of visiting Beijing, the historical capital, with my cousin and uncle, I anticipated little of the trip. In the sweltering August humidity, I could pay little attention to our tour guide as I busily swatted away mosquitoes and gazed at the pretty souvenir boutiques, and to be honest, I probably enjoyed giggling with my cousin on the top bunk during the train ride more than visiting the historical attractions. Nevertheless, the tour was in the end, quite successful in my dad’s viewpoint; we had visited the Forbidden City, Tian Tan, and the Summer Palace, and we even trekked to the top of the Great Wall. I, however, came home with little recollection of the trip to Beijing, besides a few postcards, key chains, and photos as reminder.
Now five years later, I chuckle at my frivolity for wasting such an opportunity of a lifetime. Today, I am thankful for my father’s meticulous documentation of our entire trip—I can retrace my footsteps in Beijing through pictures, videos, maps, and tourist brochures. I revisit the trip with a renewed sense of pride in my heritage; I awe at the grandeur of the Great Wall of China, the regality of Tian’anmen Square and the Forbidden City, the extravagance of the Summer Palace, and the ethereality of Tian Tan. Luckily, I am fortunate to have the opportunity to return to Shanghai and China almost every summer to visit relatives and friends. Yes, the food is scrumptious, and the bargain shopping is fabulous, but most importantly, those trips have taught me that I will always have my family; whether it be at a reunion in Shanghai with dozens of loving relatives, so many that I have trouble identifying who is who, or back in the US thousands of miles away, I know everyone is still cheering me on.
Today, I realize that my journey from my childhood self has also allowed me to gain such a strong appreciation for my diverse culture and in this wonderful country that have given my family everything materially and spiritually gratifying in exchange for my parents’ hard-work and an initial deposit of a mere $100. Most importantly, I am most grateful for the sacrifices my parents have made; the educational opportunities that I have received here in the US have transformed me into the worldly young woman I am today. Today, in every photo of my dad and me from that trip to Beijing years ago, I no longer see a playful little girl, but a proud, Chinese-American. I guess, in some ways, one can say that my parents’ journey has been more exhilarating and fruitful than any spacecraft mission—they have planted a seed for an ambitious daughter, eager to impact and influence the world.
