3 Things I wish the public knew

1. Vets aren't expensive.
Digital X-rays, blood analysers, anaesthetic machines, a purpose-built clinic, qualified nurses and great receptionists don't come for free (and alas no government subsidies) so we just can't treat at mates rates.

2. Medicine is fraught with uncertainty.
Animals don't read textbooks; 'Normal' is defined by a bell curve; Cancer will do as it pleases. Treatments fail. Animals die. Vets cry (oh believe me we cry).

3. I can't hear you when I have my stethoscope in my ears 
 

Pressure bandage

Sometimes I find it hard
To know precisely what the problem is
And then to fix it -
As fast as possible
As cheap as possible
And maintain a genuine smile.

Like a pressure bandage I just can't chew off
Removed only at retirement

Is this struggle of stress and satisfaction
I chose for myself
Guess there's no one to blame
 
Between me and you, dog
I think you're better off. 

Soccer for the soul

13 Nov 2016

Like any good Chinese kid, I had a childhood full of individual pursuits. Violin, piano, swimming, gymnastics, badminton, maths competitions, horse-riding* even.

Now don't get me wrong, I had a great upbringing. And all of these activities have 'helped shape me into the (stubborn, driven, over-committed) person I am today'.

But you know, the one problem with individual pursuits is that, when things go wrong there's kinda no-one to blame. I mean, I've tried to blame my accompanist, my horse, my sister in the audience (she smiled at me, that was distracting) - but it doesn't really work. Deep down you know it was your fault and nothing - and no one - can offer consolation. So you step up the training, schedule more rehearsals and beat your self esteem until an opportunity for redemption.

Then this year, I joined a soccer team. 

I noticed something strange: my teammates actually stuff up too. But when they do - and this is more surprising - I'm quick to forgive ("Unlucky!" "Play on"). 
And then I noticed something else: that in being quick to forgive others, I slowly learnt to forgive myself. 
How... liberating.

A season of soccer taught me what a childhood of music lessons never did. It was:

   Piano to perfection
         Soccer for the soul

*(yes pretty un-asian nevertheless individualistic)

Hating the Homeless

I hate the homeless, I really do.
Now, I don't hate them as people. I don't hate (though I certainly dont condone) how they live, I dont even hate how they make the city look. 

Its just that I dont know what to do with them  and it leaves me deeply unsettled.

Do I turn a blind eye? Do I pause to read their signs1? Which is worse - keep walking like they're not there? or stop, gawk and keep walking like I don't understand English? Do I chuck them some spare change (Does that really change the(ir) world?)? Do I buy them Mackers, sign up at a soup kitchen or lobby for social justice?

Its easier to turn a blind eye.
Harder to turn off thoughts.  

Yesterday I was in a park bench doing my devotions (like any good Christian should) when a lady approached. I assumed she wanted to share my lovely long bench so I graciously moved over but instead she wanted some change to buy some food (she even gave me the option of buying her some food). I poliltely declined however did rummage through my bag of recently acquired asian groceries and told her all I had was dried vermicelli and preserved vegetables. She politely declined (as any good beggar might2 ) and left. I watched her walk away and began to hate.  I hated her for putting me in such a predicatment (nevermind hers); for making me feel bad (nevermind how she feels). I mean, I was reading my Bible for goodness'3 sake. Would have been (or at least seemed) so much better if I'd been playing on my phone like everyone else around me.

As I pen this down 24hrs later (hey, if you cant get rid of a thought, you may as well analyse it) I wonder WWJD 4? Taken her by the hand and told her he loved her? Bought her a burger? Given her an endless supply of oil5? Not offered preserved vegetables, in any case.

It just seems

 Shes the one thats homeless and
          I have all the resources in the world
                 yet somehow
                      I feel just as helpless
                            as her

Do I really hate the homeless?
Or do I hate the hypocrite in me?

 

1Have you noticed they invariably end with 'God bless'? A clever (though unoriginal) guilt trip? How many Christian beggars actually are out there?
2 Oi! Beggars cant be choosers right?
3 yes, debateable
4The ever popular slogan from my Sunday School days What Would Jesus Do?  
5. Ref 2 Kings  7

Stars

Camping at Wilson's Prom, 1am.

Didn't think I'd be stargazing atop Dave's car at this hour, but its so mild outside and I can't sleep. Haven't seen stars like this for... too long. Does it make me feel closer to God? Yup.

No wonder the ancients had less problems believing in Him - or at least being in touch with a 'spiritual side'. No light pollution from cities, no Twitter/Tinder/newsfeeds for 24/7 distraction. Back when they shepherded sheep under stars, sailed ships with stars, planted seed by stars. Don't get me wrong - I don't really wish that things were how they were 100, perhaps 1000 years ago (wouldnt survive without my feather sleeping bag, hot water bottle and thermal layers). I just wonder if nowadays, in our narcissistic existences, we paused a bit more and stared at the stars we might just realise how very very small we are...

'The heavens declare the glory of God,
the skies proclaim the works of his hands...
what is mankind that you are mindful of them,
human beings that you care for them?"
                                                                     Psalms 19v1, 8v4

First World Problems

7 May 2016

Woke up this morning and my phone had died. Used the laptop to Google map my way to my out-of-town destination, took pictures of it with my camera and then wrote down the directions by hand (by hand!) just in case. When all that failed not even 10 mins from home, I resorted to rummaging through the boot and opening the great big 'Greater Melbourne Maps' directory my blessed aunt had given me.

This, of course, all made me a little unsettled, very late, and with the thought of the 20km I had to run in the afternoon (not a regular occurence - am training for a half marathon) I nursed a sore stomach (a regular occurence, unfortunately). Geez, 1st world problems, I told myself.

Now I've spent enough time in 3rd world countries to know better; I shouldn't be moping about these things. But still, I live in the 1st world, and 1st world problems are - for the most part - still problems. I also know that the cure for 1st world problems is not to move to the 3rd world and be free of such pressures, anymore than the cure for 3rd world problems is to escape to the 1st.

No, the cure for all world problems must be something - someOne - outside of this world, the Maker of it even. Before Him alone do all problems fade. In Him alone do I find my joy and peace.

An understanding

You know, I really understand now why so many vets - even experienced ones - commit suicide. Its not neccesarily the pressure from without that makes them - us - crumble. But the pressure from within - these self-set standards which may or may not be attainable, this feeling - conviction - of inadequacy, the constant comparing of oneself with the vet-next-door. And its all relentless.

Now hold up, don't call 111 - I didnt say I was suicidal or anything. I just said I get it, why some people would be. Just like how a newlywed, after a while, might understand why couples go through divorce. Or one starving might see how easy it is to steal. Its a powerful understanding.

I hope like anything this feeling doesnt hang around til my retirement party. I do want to be a vet thats 'good enough', if not 'good' full stop. But I fear with my - and all of our - damned perfectionist personality/ies it just might. So whilst others choose otherwise,  I put on my scrubs and live with it. 

Last bits and pieces of China

excperts from my report home, Feb 2016

A little bit cold 

So with the completion of my (not very difficult - we're international students come on!) exams, Wei-Yan and I set off on a little adventure. We went north - so north we almost bordered Russia - to a city called Harbin. We went to see the International Ice and Snow Sculpture Festival - well, that is what we tell everyone. The real (or at least other half of the) reason was to see what temperatures of -20 to -30 deg are like.

 I can personally verify that is it is cold. 

Everything, well, freezes. Our hair froze, our breath-saturated masks froze, the water in my bottle in my backpack froze, our eye lashes froze. Our internal organs, however, fared suprisingly well, thanks to the (yes, maybe over 100) nuan bao bao's we had bulk bought online. The nuan bao bao  is an incredible asian invention - large teabag-like packets filled with charcoal like powder which spontaneously emits heat on exposure to air. They come in various forms - to stick to your torso, your toes, to put in your pockets or gloves. We even stuck them to our phones as we found electronic devices don't hold charge in those temperatures (how do people survive??). The only inconvenience was that the nuan bao bao  needs to be changed every couple of hours, much like a baby needs its diaper changed. 

A little bit dissapointed

This year, Yan and I joined the 'mass internal migration' during Chinese New Year,  bussing to our relative's hometown. Because of the crowds (and, perhaps, our 60+ kg of luggage we were lugging (Yan was flying home straight after)) we couldn't physically get to our bus in time to board. When we got to the gate and  realised the bus had left without us, we couldn't back out, for the crowds pushing up against us, and so stayed squashed against the counter for an hour until we got seats on another bus. 

Now this didnt really suprise me but something else did:

Since young, Chinese New Year has always been a time where we've tried to be really chinese.  It usually consisted of us raiding the wardrobes to find chinese clothing (I always got the cheong sam Mum had tailored for her fathers birthday, Wei-Yan would find (and still fit into) some chinese kids pyjamas and poor Wei-Lin always seemed to end up draped in a chinese table cloth), donning red lipstick and white foundation and strutting round the house with sunbrellas collecting money-filled red packets from our bemused parents (and other unsuspecting guests). 

So, come the very important New Year's Eve family reunion dinner,  to my dissappointment, nobody dressed up. My aunty came straight in from the kitchen and sat down, still in her apron. My cousin wore track pants, my uncle looked like he was in those acceptable-to-wear-outside PJs and even Yan and I (at the call to dinner at 4.12pm!!) found ourselves still in our jeans, 5 layers of thermas/Merinos and puffer jacket we had been wearing every day during our travels (it was so cold inside the house I'd have worn my beanie, gloves and mask too if I could eat in them). And we only scored one red packet each.

What didnt dissapoint, however was the food: we lost count of the dishes at number 23 (no wonder my aunty didnt have time to do her hair!) which included delicacies such as goose, embryonated chicken eggs and dog (yes, its true, Chinese do eat dog....)

Sometimes reality is far from our preconceptions.    

A whole lot of satisfaction

But then again, is that not what we discover every day in our travels?  My year in China was - of course - fun... but not so much fun as it was interesting -  deeply interesting not so much for the things I did or saw or ate, but for the experience of living as a banana in the Motherland. At times I was an undercover Westerner with glee, at others I just wanted to go home where people would understand and accept me (!!). Although I will never be (nor ever marry*) a zhong guo ren (Lit: 'chinaman'), I feel I have a very much deepr understanding of this incredible country and the strange (and seemingly socially inappropriate at times) habits of her resilient people. And, I can speak chinese, which is 100% non-useful for my career as a vet. Still I would deem it all one of the most worthwhile things I have ever done 

 

A little bit frozen

*I couldnt hack a chinese mother-in-law

当老师

For a semester in Hangzhou, every Wednesday afternoon I donned a skirt and stockings(wow, China has really changed me, you say) and (illegally - part time work is prohibited for students) took the title of Lao shi (teacher) at a (not very local) high school. It went like this: first a 40 min bike ride to the train station, 45 minutes on the gao tie (high speed train), followed by a 20 minute (hair-raising) taxi ride to Yuyao middle school. I would teach two 40 minute classes, inconveniently separated by a 70 minute dinner break. And then this 2+ hour commute would be played out in reverse. My pay was 180RMB (~50NZD) per class, and (net) transport pay 170RMB. To my Chinese friends this is more than they could dream of (my poor friend in Xi’an had a weekend job trying to sell (of all things!) Zespri Kiwifruit at a fruit stall, each day she would earn 100RMB...) , but for foreign teachers, especially for one teaching TOEFL english under the above circumstances, I think its considered a 

bit of a bad deal. But you know, I its not like I came to China to earn money or anything, I came to learn, that I did. What these three brave boys taught me far outweighed anything I tried to teach them. 

Chinese uni students will tell you that that uni years are so ‘relaxing’. Come to NZ (where one goes to school to eat his lunch), and you’ll know the definition of ‘relaxing', I think,  as I watch them rush between class and the library, scoff their food at the canteen, be back in their 4 person dorms by 11pm and study till after midnight. Its only after my glimpse into the life of a high school student that I begin to understand. 

At the Yuyao High, 99% of the (about 1000) students are boarders, not because their parents live out of town, but because they can study ‘better’ by living in. Breakfast is at 6am and ‘free time’ until 7.30am. What do you do in your ‘free time’? I asked Kevin, my star student. ‘I usually study’, he said, ‘that way if I get everything done before the weekend I can relax when I go home’. ‘Weekend’ is a bit of a misnomer really, they go home around 8pm on Saturday evening and are back before Sunday noon - less than 24 hours at home a week (and their home may just be around the corner!). What do you do when you go home? I asked. ‘Sleep, and play computer games’ was the reply. (of course! What else would you do?!) One of my chinese friends said in her final year study pressure was too high for her to go home so her parents came to visit her instead. Other than this their days are filled with classes - either teaching classes or ‘supervised self study’ classes. I thought about just turning my classes into parties to give them a bit of a break, but alas even I wasn’t exempt from pressure; ‘your students must achieve’ I was firmly told in my interview... 

So instead of parties, I showed them pics of my travels and tried to set interesting essay topics. One was 'Is it better for parents to spend time with their child or buy them things?' For me, the 'right' answer was obvious, but to my dismay, two out of three supported the latter. OK, it wasn't really a statistically sound survey. But was it a reflection of Chinese students' experience?

Make no mistakes, I'm not a cheerleader for NZ's education. And I'm not completely naiive to the rat race of Chinese society. But no matter how many maths whizzes a system like this may produce, if students lose sight of what's 'right', I'm just think somethings wrong.  . 

The left behinds

The Generation Gap, Wuyuan Villages, Jianxi, China.

'The Generation Gap'. That is, the noticeably missing generation between the elderly and children in the Chinese countryside. The elderly and the children are also known as the 'left behinds', and the numbers are staggering.

Being in the city, its also noticeable. Take my flatmates for example. Their daughter is 3 years old, she lives with her grandparents in his hometown. He's a 'kuai di' (courier) driver, works 7 days a week and is lucky if he can take one days leave a month to rest, or make the 8hr return train ride to see her. Or take my second cousin for example. She and her husband are designers, running their business in Hangzhou, her 5 year old son is/has been raised by her parents in her hometown, Zhuji. Zhuji is just 80km from Hangzhou, but last time I spoke with her she said she's been so busy, she hasn't been home (and he hasn't come to visit) for more than 2months. In fact, with all my running to and from Hangzhou and Zhuji for chinese festivals and visiting aunts I think I've seen more of him than she has. The left behinds.

With the Kiwi Mission team in Xi'an I had the privilege of being 'sent' to a countryside school to teach two days of english. The photo describes what it was physically like (yes those are the toilets...yes it snowed that heavy in November!)  but conversations with kids can never be captured by a camera. Forsaking my served lunch in the 'staff room', I joined the kids in the canteen as they scoffed their noodles.

 'Ayi', they addressed me (lit 'aunty'!!) 'are you going to be our teacher from now on?' (oh breaks my heart!) 'No, just until tomorrow. I need to go back to my country' 

'Where do you live?' (groan, did we not just spend the whole morning talking about NZ?)

 'Very far away. I need to take an aeroplane to get there'.

 'Ayi, does your country have aeroplanes!!?? they marvelled.

 'Yes, and you know, China does too!' 

 'Waaaaa! they screamed - it was like the most brilliant piece of information they'd gained in a long time. 'Ayi,' their eyes couldn't contain their delight like I couldn't contain my laughter, 'how many aeroplanes does China have??'

 The majority of these kids live with their grandparents - their parents are in the city mostly 打工 - doing seasonal/temporary work on construction sites, in restaurants, etc. I asked them how often their parents come home - not very often, maybe once or twice a year. And when they finish primary school, I guess they go off to live at high school and then university.... I'm not sure if its just my privileged family upbringing or narrow minded western mindset, but I look at this picture and think 'why bother having a kid??'

Countryside school, Shaanxi, China.

Quiet Asians

All my life I have fought against the stereotype of the 'quiet asian'. I get to China to discover that I have been seriously mistaken. Oh yes, Chinese (if I may stereotype here) are quiet (especially if you ask them if they speak English), but that doesn't mean they don't find hundreds of other ways to be heard.....

You won't last two days in China without being asked about what you make of the air pollution. But to me,  there is a bigger, or at least louder, problem that I struggle to deal with:

Noise Pollution.

Now this is a new term (like 'PM2.5', a measure bad air quality) that I hadn't come across in NZ, possibly because I'm uneducated and ignorant, or possibly because we don't have any.

So there is the noise of traffic, which isn't unexpected in any big city. Added to this, though, is the frequent and sustained sound of the horn, which screams 'yes I know its a red light but I'm coming through anyway', and the shrill whistle and shouts of traffic police, indicating they have seen red-light-runners but are powerless to stop them.

The bike is an  indispensable mode of transport here; in NZ I would want one with good gears and mudguards, but here what you really need are a basket and bell. The other day I proudly negotiated a basket and a lock into the price of my 2nd hand bike, but somehow forgot about a bell. I felt terribly naked and vulnerable as I pedaled (OK, on the wrong side of the road, against the flow of bike traffic) home. I don't hesitate to use my bell when necessary, but there are those who don't follow this pattern of thinking. I have seen many an old man riding along with not a car/bike/pedestrian in his way, ringing his bell constantly just... ? for entertainment? to be heard? who knows. Old (and also not-so-old) men also like to walk/bike along with big radio-like music machines attached to their hips, (who needs an iPod?) blasting Chinese opera or pop music to the world. The other day a grandfather pedaled along ringing his bell in time to the music.Well I'm glad for him that he was enjoying is little ride but for the sake of the rest of us and our precious ear drums....

On the surface, Chinese, (despite, (or perhaps because of) the slight disorderliness of traffic) seem to be very concerned with safety. Riding an escalator, its not enough to just plaster signs saying 'hold the handrail' all over the place. There must also be a audio recording playing the same message over and over again, just in case you are blind or illiterate. Boarding the buses (or subway), a lady's voice (seems to be the same lady on every bus) will welcome you aboard, state the bus number, urge you to move towards the back of the bus and, of course, pay attention to safety. Before reaching every stop, she will again be broadcasted: 'We are arriving at bus stop X. Please exit from the rear doors. Be careful when doors are opening and pay attention to safety'. This message is repeated about 4 or so times before actually arriving, such that if you have sat through 10 stops to reach your destination, you have been reminded to pay attention to safety no less than 50 times. The volume is set so high so that its not just bus passengers who get to hear her, but pedestrians, those inside cars and yes, me, as I lie in bed, my 5th floor apartment on the corner of a main intersection.

Groping around for my earplugs one night I foolishly thought 'oh to be living back on campus!'. I quickly retracted that wish, remembering that every morning without fail I would be woken at 6am to the next door sports area chants of 一！二！三！四: students participating in military-style drills; the traditional hymn-style music which old ladies holding something which resembled badminton rackets danced to  (the first Sunday I heard this I thought there was a church service next door....), followed by some group exercise pop music.

As a kid, the sound of the tinny Greensleeves music wafting closer closer could only mean one thing: Mr Whippy was near, and if we were lucky mum would let us buy an ice cream. So who could blame me for thinking the same (well, OK, I'd use my own money) when I heard the same tune here? To my dismay the music was emitted from nothing other than a big truck spraying water onto the road - to settle the dust, I think, or when its been raining, to 'wash' away the water on the flooded streets (!!). This type of truck circulates round and round the city; every time I hear it I hate it even more for corrupting my childhood memories. Why can't it just spray water in silence??! (or sell ice creams out the side window, at least?)


Go to any lively market anywhere in the world and vendors will be calling, crying out what they have to offer. Chinese efficiency, coupled with their love for microphones/loud speakers have improved on this, either by attaching a McDonalds drive through 'can-I-take-your-order-please?' -type microphone and portable speaker to their bodies (leaving their hands free to handle the money/meat etc), or, even better, by pre-recording what they have to say (after all, its only 1 sentence, right?) and blasting it from a standing speaker: 'Watermelon! One kuai yi jin!' 'T-shirts! Buy one get one free!'. Shops have also taken to this method, sometimes employing some poor, poorly paid worker to stand at the door with a mic advertising their promotion, other times just playing the automatic message through a speaker. I once asked a shop assistant if he got annoyed at hearing 'everything in store 9.90RMB!' repeated non stop from morning to night, and he just looked at me as if he hadn't heard me (well, I wouldn't have blamed him....), or didn't know what I was talking about.

One night I was busking with a guitarist and the police/street security made us move locations 3 times - the reason being that we were 'too noisy'. Now, I would gladly move if we were obstructing foot traffic, on private property or blasting inappropriate music (how a violin could ever be inappropriate I don't know). And yes, it was a busy street (we're not going busk in a rice paddy). But its a sad day, friends, when, given the un-tuned orchestra of everything mentioned above, its a couple of street buskers that are labelled as:

Noise Pollution.

Have our ear drums lost their sense of beauty?

Atrocity

I witnessed an atrocity the other day.

Our Hangzhou to Xi'an flight had just touched down (and I mean literally had just touched down) when suddenly a lady appeared in the aisle at the front of the plane, ready to exit. Even the air hostesses - still seated in their seats - were taken by suprise. They asked her to sit back down. When she refused, one had to get up and usher ( = force ) her back to her seat. No sooner had this poor hostess buckled herself back up again, that there was a family of 3 making their way - hand luggage  and all - down the aisle also. The hostess upbuckled herself yet again and, telling someone else to turn off their phone on the way, asked them to return to their seats. They also defied orders. As a final attempt she asked the child to sit on an adjacent passenger's lap as the plane taxied in.

I couldn't believe it. What's wrong with these people? Who do they think they are?! Yes, our flight was one whole hour delayed. But they were locals - they should know (and I didn't for a long time), that domestic flights are more often than not behind schedule. And its not like there haven't been longer delays (hey, cancellations even!) in the history of aviation services.

What I witnessed made me angry. So angry I call it an atrocity. Now, its not like I haven't seen worse evil in the world. But that what I saw wasn't just a couple of impatient people. But horrible selfishness that I have begun to notice in other places also.

Now, don't get me wrong. I like Chinese people. Heck, I am a Chinese. And in a country of 1.4billion people, its unfair to generalise. But, there are certain 'habits' (should we shroud them with the term 'culture'?) that Chinese people partake in, that - in my opinion - are nothing more than displays of selfishness.

Like, why don't people swallow their OWN saliva? Why do they let their children eliminate in (very) public places (sometimes infront of public toilets!)?Whey don't they form a line and let others who got there first, go first?

'Are you in line?' a man behind my Finnish friend and me asked at the train station last week. Of course we are, I replied, and then silently (geez, We're westerners! we're who do you think we are?) Then I realised I should have said 'Of course we're not! Where do you think we are? (The West?!)' And if to prove right my thoughts, he , and everyone else behind) squashed us up against the ticket counter and breathed down our necks.


I did have a thought in China's defence however. Like, I know China is a big country. And staggers under a big population. The two topics of conversation - for foreigners and locals alike - are: the excessive number of people and the (bad) quality of air. And I guess this has something to do witht the formation of this Chinses 'Culture' (promotion and acceptability of selfishness). I mean (ok, save ethics for another day), perhaps its just not possibleto live any less selfishly here. If you actually waited behind the yellow line, your flight would leave before you got to check in. If you didn't push and shove and haul your body onto the bus, you'd never make it to the office (at all, nevermind on-time). If you waited for cars to stop before attempting to cross, you'd collapse with hunger before reaching the supermarket across the road.If they provided toilet paper in all public toilets, there'd be no trees left to emit oxygen.

Now, I'm definitely no saint. But this recent aeroplane atrocity has got me thinking: What little, seemingly innocent and 'acceptable' acts of self interest are really atrocities at heart?





 

A semester in Xi'an

Excerpts from an email home. 25 June 2015.

Well, Ive finished a semester Xi'an. I must say Ive gained a bit of insight into the (at least international student's) education system here.
Its not that great.
Its not that the quality or content is lacking, rather (something closer to my heart..): morals and ethics.

For all of China's restrictions and regulations, the international student's department is incredibly laxed. Cheating is not only rampant and obvious, but, it appears,  perfectly acceptable. Take weekly '听写 (lit:listen-write) tests (think of primary school spelling tests) for example. I think they should be re-named ''写写' because half the class will have their textbooks open and be copying the words. The teacher strolls around the room and turns a blind eye. She strolls because shes not allowed to sit whilst teaching - thats the rules. She's not allowed to sit... but we're allowed to cheat??

One day during '听写  I got so fed up that I took out my camera and started taking pictures. Some classmates gave me amused looks - I smiled and snapped their photo. I snapped people playing on their phones, people wit textbooks open, people sharing answers.

Cheating is one thing, punctuality and class attendance are another. Our class had 20 students.. these last few weeks we would start at 8am with 5-6. On a good day, this number would swell to perhaps 12 or 15 over the next few hours, on a bad day it would remain at 5.

On a positive note, my chinese is improving to the state where I think I am not longer mistaken for retarded, but from Taiwan, Kunming or Hong Kong (?is their chinese so bad in those places, I wonder..?!)


I managed to do a bit of hiking as the days got warmer (and are now too hot!), the most notable being 'Mt Hua Shan' - unlike any mountain you've seen (the crowds are also unlike any you've seen (or want to see)). There was even an ATM at the summit! (only in China!) On the way down I couldnt restrain myself and (jumping the 'no swimming' sign), had a little swim in the river (the cleanest water Id seen so far)... my chinese friend was shocked and said it was the 1st time she'd seen a girl 'bathing' in natural water...

The day of my exam one of our scungy dorm cats cut its leg - deep enough for me to dream about stitching it up. No such luck (opportunity! Exams come first!) - in the end I brought back some supplies, and on the kitchen bench (with girls cooking pancakes in the background!) me and A Yi (dorm mother) cleaned and injected this unappreciative patient, whose howling nearly turned the pancake girls nauseous.

So whilst I'm not sure about the pancakes, both the cat and my exams turned out fine. The cat because (as every vet knows) animals will heal with/without/in spite of treatment, and and exams because they were a bit like glorified homework without the use of a dictionary.  I did, however have trouble reading the exam regulations listed at the top of each paper....I have sat many an exam where l have not understood the exam questions, but never until now been in one where I haven't been able to read the rules!

And as such continues my strange life here...

Ｃｈｅａｔｉｎｇ　ｉｎ　Ｃｈｉｎａ