Envelope #5 Open at the midpoint of your experience

Prompt: How has your experience thus far met or not met your expectations? What, if anything, do you intend to change about your personal interactions or work for the remainder of your time?

Prior to arriving at CURA, I honestly did not know what to expect. In fact, I recall reading the following in an email I received from Mark, the project leader, two days before my flight to China:

"Hannah, clear your mind of expectations. All will be as it is."

Nevertheless, this message was not so shocking to me, as I was mentally prepared to be flexible and adapt to whatever was awaiting me. My only concern at the time was that I would not be able to contribute much either due to insufficient language abilities, technical skills, or a mix of both. But, I was lucky enough to have a phenomenal experience that exceeded all expectations. I found myself fitting in easily, contributing to both the playful office banter and to the project at hand--developing (and later implementing) a health survey to be implemented in a village upstream of Chengdu. Each day entailed new experiences, such as walking alongside the city's rivers to the Living Water Park, which purifies 200 cubic meters of river water each day through a fish-shaped wetland system. Another time, it was meeting with Professor Wang Jintao of HuaXi School of Public Health to discuss my first rough draft of the health survey. CURA was a family, its members united by a love of protecting rivers and exchanging good-natured jests. Every day over lunch, business was set aside as stories and advice became the currency of communication. During these meals, I continued to learn, about the Sichuan dishes made by our chef Mrs. Dong, about Chinese culture and perspectives. It was also good practice for me to as I trained my ear to understand the Sichuan dialect. Sometimes, we would also have a visitor or two--a former CURA member, people hailing from other NGOs, once even someone from the Australian Embassy, who admitted a good part of his job was surprisingly dedicated to visiting incarcerated fellow countrymen.

Outside of my time in the office, my expectations have certainly been surpassed as well. I was told Chengdu would be unbearably hot in terms of weather and cuisine. Nevertheless, the summer has been relatively mild (or perhaps I am accustomed to worse as a native Houstonian), and with Chengdu now more 'globalized,' the same could be said of the cuisine. Unlike the days when my father first visited Chengdu years back and was unable to discern what he ate, registering only the fiery numbness, Chengdu was now a famed city of gastronomy with much more to offer than hot pot and stir fry chock-full of peppercorn. Thanks to the Chinese equivalent of Yelp, 大众点评, and my host family, I got to try roast fish, Italian-Asian fusion, Xinjiang, Korean, French, Japanese cuisines to name a few. One local specialty I loved was 'stir-fried yogurt.' After having read about it in the morning subway newspapers, I was determined to try it. It's made by mixing yogurt with fruit and flavorings, if any, and fanning it out in a metal pan to be frozen (something below cools the surface of the pan). The yogurt is then broken up and served in chunks, as shown below.

The 'stir-fry' process

The finished product!

So while it's technically frozen yogurt, this treat was termed 'stir-fried' yogurt because of how it's prepared, given the use of a pan and spatula. Crunchy, cold, and available in some of my favorite flavors (matcha, mango, coffee), it was refreshing in the summer heat.

Of course, Chengdu has a lot more to offer than just food--the city is also known as a cultural center. I had the chance to go see the Sanxindui ('three star mound') Cultural Site, exhibiting what's left of an advanced ancient civilization unconnected to the rest of Chinese history. The prominent features protruding eyes of the bronze masks were unlike anything I had ever seen before, and bore more resemblance to the Mayan artifacts I had seen in Mexico than to those of the Chinese Han civilization. That same day, we also got to visit the 4th largest Confucius temple in China. Walking around the perimeter of the shrine, we read the wishes left by earlier visitors. Especially because Confucius considered the patron sage of knowledge and education, the handwritten requests were overwhelmingly for good gaokao scores, enough to get into China's top-tier universities. Two also aspired to attend Harvard, and at the other end of the spectrum, a few humbly asked only to pass a test or course with a 70. I think what struck me the most was how strong an emphasis was placed on gaokao, understandable given that students only have one shot to prove their worth. And that's the problem--students have wholly attached their self-worth to the outcomes of this test. Every year, there are students who commit suicide for causes related to gaokao. While on the plane back to Chengdu from Hunan, I spoke with a the passenger next to me, a parent who said just this year a girl from the area had committed suicide as a result of poor gaokao performance. It's a problem that people has come into focus, and some families have found a way out, by sending their children abroad. My host family serves as an example of this increasingly prevalent phenomenon. To these families, education abroad is superior to what's offered in China. Some high schools even form classes of students intending to go abroad, preparing them for AP and SAT tests rather than for gaokao. Of course, these doors have been opening thanks to the rapid economic development in China and the subsequent increase in disposable income.

Coming back to the subject of experiencing culture, a visit to the Chengdu panda base was not to be missed. And, thanks to a few connections, we even got to hug a one-year-old panda cub. But, just as memorable to me was the conversation I had with the retired veterinarian who had worked at the panda base. He told us about his role in nurturing the panda population from the original 10 to the current 160. At one point, a panda epidemic had dropped the number down to a meager 4, but thanks to him leading a team of researchers, the cause and cure were identified, saving the remaining pandas. His crowning achievement was the risk he took to act on his theory of ensuring the survival of both panda cubs when twins were born to the mother, a frequent natural occurrence. The method he devised proved successful and is now used at panda breeding centers around the world. Despite all his accomplishments, he was very humble, always more than happy to answer our simple questions about the pandas as we strolled through the expansive base.

These experiences are just a few of the countless that have made my time so far in Chengdu so exceptional. Ultimately, it comes down to the people I've met and the relationships I've developed. I'm looking forward to the rest of my time here as we continue preparing the survey and as I continue to learn about the city and its people. What would I change? Nothing, other than continuing to be open to new experiences and serving as a bridge between cultures.