#college abroad
I wake up to the sound of e-bike alarms; it was also my lullaby, and I’m becoming oddly attached to it. Today is Wednesday in Hangzhou, and the students of Zhejiang University Yuquan Campus are ready for it to be Friday. It’s not that we don’t like our classes; this is, after all, one of the top universities in the country, and it shows in the academics and campus. Rather, we are hoping for Friday to reward us for our hard work with more seasonable weather and a possible win at trivia night. As of now, nine in the morning, it is stressfully hot and even more humid.
The food here is delightful, as rather than a sit-down meal of hit-and-miss eggs like I would have in the States, I grab some steamed pork buns, the breakfast of champions and the Chinese. Vitamins are rare in the meat- and bread-based meals here, so I grab a mango-orange juice and pretend it’s healthy. Wednesday morning, for me, means meeting with my counselor to discuss my Junior Research Seminar work, so I sally on up to the balcony and log on to Zoom for my appointment. On the way, I pass people speaking Mandarin, Korean, Arabic, Spanish, English, and what I presume to be Swedish.
China Center students are notorious for not leaving the bubble, but when you take a look at the variety of humanity spilling from the doors of the International Dorm, it’s easy to understand the temptation of just making friends here. As far as many Global students are concerned, China is here, in ZJU’s building 30.
Wednesday afternoons are a doozy for me. The second I wrap up my meeting, I must procure lunch and hustle over to the Center, and upstairs room in a building fifteen minutes from the dorms. This campus is truly enormous, and I have yet to even walk from one end to the other. I pop across the street for some beef and potato curry with rice, da bao (to go, minus the tones) because I don’t have time to relax. This is my favorite part of the day, walking through campus in anticipation of a challenging yet rewarding class, hot lunch in my hand; I build in an extra five minutes so I can walk slowly. ZJU Yuquan campus is lined in trees, green places to relax, mom and pop convenience stores, and rows of yellow bicycles you can borrow for free, if you’re in a hurry. These bikes are all over the city and are outrageously convenient, yet another example of Chinese efficiency, along with paying for everything, and I mean everything, with your phone, and adequate bike lanes. Hangzhou has about ten million residents and hangs, many days, under a layer of smog; when it rains, you are strongly recommended to use an umbrella, lest the chemicals in the rain cause your skin irritation. Still, despite the smog and the humidity, this campus is filled with trees that make the air seem crisp and fresh. By the time I arrive at the Center, I have a pep in my step and a banana I picked up at a fruit stand, ready to start class.
With Global College, I have taken either intensive or survival courses in the following languages: Spanish, German (just key phrases), Darija, Italian, and Bosnian. Nothing prepared me for Mandarin. It’s just the tones, they’re a real game changer. The first tone, like you, could care less, the second tone like you’re mildly surprised, the third tone, as though you are wholly incredulous, and my favorite, fourth tone, like someone just punched you. In theory, it should be easy, but English is a language that relies heavily on intonation for meaning, and I personally have some bad habits. The most egregious is the California Upswing, that pesky habit of ending every sentence on an upward tone like I just asked a question? Most recognizable in Southern California valley girls, I am ashamed to admit that we, too, have it in the North.
Qingqing Laoshi (Sunny Teacher) is unimpressed. Qiaokeli, she says, are you saying can I have some water, or can I have some sleep? Both are shui, and I just can’t wait for class to end so that I can put my notes on flashcards and practice until I no longer feel helpless. We have a grand total of fifteen minutes between the end of class and the start of Junior Research Seminar, so I chow down on my Chinese-style beef curry, filled with cinnamon and perfectly cooked potatoes. I might miss that curry place more than I miss some of my new friends, because food is the best friend I will ever have.
JRS is a breeze as always, with spirited conversations on research ethics and no shortage of connectivity problems. Finding adequate internet in China is always an adventure. As class comes to a close, we disperse, and the day is ours. Some will nap, others will ride bikes to the lake, find a patch of grass, and nap. Let’s be honest, at some point, everybody is going to nap. I save my nap for later, heading to my favorite local café to study and drink a well-deserved milkshake. Later, I will spend an hour calling family so that they know I’m not dead, and perhaps for dinner I will practice my Mandarin on the street noodle vendors. When I feel I have completed as much work as I wanted, I will meander over to a local bar where all of the bartenders are South African and the tiny Chinese girl who fronts the house band is always crooning George Michael hits. I do not go to drink, although I may indulge in a chicken quesadilla; I go to spy on the local fauna. People watching is, without a doubt, my favorite part of living in a large Chinese city, and a consistently uplifting way to end a school day.
If you made it this far, I applaud you. While it may seem that this piece was merely an exercise in ego, let me assure you, I had a point. Through my florid prose and unnecessary asides, I wanted to convey this: China, and the Global College China Center, are different from anywhere I have been to date, but a Wednesday here is still just a school day. Every day of college is made up of a series of seemingly trivial components. It is the individual quality of those components that comprise the spice of life. Each day here is both predictably normal and spectacularly exciting. I can only hope to portray even a sliver of that in my writing.
by Julia McCoy
I was sitting in a noodle restaurant in Shanghai, one Saturday before we were set to leave for this legendary trip when I started coughing. It’s no big deal, I reasoned, these peanut butter noodles are spicy and there’s pollen in the air and plenty of smog, so surely the tickle in my throat is only that, nothing sinister. We live in a fair world, so there’s no way I could get a cold right before the amazing trip to the Yunnan and Sichuan provinces I’ve heard so much about.
It was a nasty cold, and I was banished from the trip.
I spend a week and a half alone, healing slowly, drinking buckets of water, and dreaming of the adventures my classmates were having. I was healed when they returned, and I eagerly cornered them and demanded stories. I began with Kate and Emma, shoving my phone in their face as we waited for our noodles.
Kate Yachuk: We talked to Professor Wang, I think, and he told us about the last living hieroglyphic language in the world, which is spoken by thirty people, of which he is one. He was one of the Yi people, he was super friendly and very knowledgeable. And he brought us to his house and gave us lots of candy!
Now, ask any Tom, Dick, or Harry, they’ll tell you how much I love candy, but what I love even more is linguistics. It drives my friends insane, but I’m proud of how truly nerdy I am. One of the main, nerdiest reasons I was so gung-ho for this particular field trip was to personally observe the culture of the Mosuo people, one of the last matriarchal society in the world, with whom I have been fascinated since I was ten years old. The Mosuo live around Lugu Lake, and Emma gave me the briefest of fill-ins on the matter.
Emma Barker: So, since we had to turn around and not go to the Tibetan village, we had to pull some strings, I think. We were going to the Lugu Lake anyway, but we had extra time from the change of plans, and Liu Wei said he had a friend nearby. We went and visited her house and talked about her culture and then we visited a monastery. We walked around there and were shown around by some monks and a living Buddha. Then we went back to this lady’s house and she wanted to dress us up in some traditional clothing; first we dressed up Zack and Samudra, then we roped Lyric and Liu Wei into doing it too. Everybody looked really good!
Jealous as I was hearing of Emma’s adventures, I continued to seek stories of the trip. I knew, from years ofGlobal Collegefield trips, that the programming frequently outshone the way it was described on our itinerary, like the way the performance in Taiwan was explained to us as mere children’s theater. Sophie confirmed my beliefs.
Sophie Gagnaire: So, on the trip we met this Naxi woman and she took us to a monastery where her brother works, where we met the living Buddha. I was really blown away by how decadent and extravagant it was. The monastery was in this compound that also had a four-hundred-year-old building, so we got to see these original wall paintings from four hundred years ago, and this massive, thirty- or forty-foot Buddha statue. It was amazing!
One of these things that most clearly marks aGlobal College field trip is the last-minute adjustments. It is not that Global is unprepared; quite the opposite, in fact. It is rather than a field trip of this nature, twenty foreign students attempting to experience something meaningful in the same place, year to year, lends itself to mishaps and unexpected schedule adjustments, and Global is admirable in the way in which it adapts to such itinerary shifts, and the way in which its students learn to adapt and participate.
Santiago Sanchez y Lucero: So, we drove seven hours into the mountains to make it to the Tibetan region [of Yunnan province], and about six hours in, we ran into police officers who told us that we had to turn back because we were arriving on the tenth anniversary of an uprising that was orchestrated by American student. We seemed like a suspicious group, which I guess is fair.
I caught up with Nicole after I spoke to Santi, asking if they ever did come into contact with Tibetan culture. We were all, at least in our late-night pre-trip debates, keen to engage with Tibetan culture, given that this may be our only chance. We are, after all, a crew of liberal arts students from the United States filled with radical ideas and a truly American inability to censor ourselves when it is appropriate.
Nicole Price: I forget which day in the trip this was, but it was a few days into our trip, and we visited a university where they have an entire portion dedicated to Tibetan language and culture. We got to see their archives of Tibetan language and culture, and also other minority languages that have almost died out, like the Yi language. It was really cool because we got to enjoy a perspective, through these archives, that not a lot of people would have access to. It was exciting to see in practice the things we had been learning about all semester.
Now, Global field trips are, first and foremost, about learning; after all, we wouldn’t be going into this much debt for a degree if we weren’t being provided an excellent education. Still, I spent most of my childhood at summer camp, and I have noticed some close similarities between a day at camp and a day on a Global field trip. Many similarities are superficial, such as the odd sleep schedule, unusual group activities, and the way you seem to fit more into one day that you would fit outside of camp/field trip in a week. What stands out the most, though, are the ability you develop to adapt, at lightning speed, to adversity, and the degree to which you bond at dinner time. At camp, social life revolves around the dining hall, and in the mountains with your Global classmates, you feel the most like a wonderful family when you’re swapping food and stories and recounting your day over more food that you could ever finish. Courtney-Lynn agreed wholeheartedly.
Courtney-Lynn Mellina: My favorite group dinner from the Yunnan trip was the Tibetan-style dinner we had with the living Buddha and the rest of the class. It was, by far, one of my favorite dinners in all of Global, and the food was spectacular! I made some new Tibetan friends, we had great conversation and I tried foods I had never tried before It was a real sense of community that I’m so glad I was a part of.
Now, in spite of certain commonalities, every trip is different. I love taking the things we learned in the classroom out into the field, and I know many of my classmates feel the same. It’s always exciting to find a new way of learning, exploring areas made accessible to you only by the luck of going on the trip; I hope my jealousy isn’t coming through in my writing, I’m not bitter, I’m fine, everything is fine. Sophia and I caught up over dumplings.
Sophia Cox-Wright: One of the highlights, definitely for me, going on this trip would be that, because of scheduling matters and some things, logistically, that just ended up not working out, which kind of just happens sometimes on Global trips, we got a bit more time to just hang out and be alone. It gives you a chance to just learn from the place that you’re in. For example, one of the things that I really enjoyed was going in to the town square in one of the villages and just sitting there and watching the tourist trade and Chinese tourists. It was interesting seeing the effects of it, if that makes sense, and seeing it for myself instead of just reading, trying to integrate myself into that space. That experience is definitely something I’m going to be thinking about for a while.
As I gathered these stories, both for the purposes of writing and personal gratification, I couldn’t help but compare them to the looks on my classmates’ faces when they returned and my own past experiences. This trip to Yunnan and Sichuan provinces was as intense an experience as promised, and like any field trip, the best and the worst part was coming home. After all that you learn, you just want to be somewhere comfortable to process it, even if that means leaving beautiful new places you have become attached to. By taking part in the post-trip emotional processes of my friends, I enjoyed the trip in my own way: vicariously. Until I have time to visit on my own, that will have to be enough.
by Julia McCoy.