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Archive for the ‘Society’ Category

Studying Tai Chi: The Students, The Landscapes

01 Sep

I attended a music camp back in high school. We rehearsed with this involved, focused presence, only a few days to master our music for a performance at week’s end. These rehearsals were different than regular band class during the school year. There, we were more likely to clock-watch and wish for the hour to end so we could get away. Once that bell rang, “whew!, finally.” I think we were mostly glad because rather than having to put forth our attention and energy into the music, we could drift off into the lazy daze of horse play and daydream.

The difference between that exciting, intense camp and the boring, drawn-out school year is a degree of time. Knowing that we had just a few days at camp made us present and allowed us to wring every moment out of each hour. The school year, by contract was, well, a year! So it seems the tidbits of time, the portions that are allotted, are often better used. Think about how focused and present you get when you go to a retreat, camp, or seminar.

But what then of the prospect of an open-ended amount of time, like say, the prospect of our life?! Well, shoot. Who hasn’t idled away an afternoon (or longer) awaiting the evening, weekend, or upcoming vacation? Who hasn’t measured their schedule in weeks and months and forgotten about the imminent hours? So in the spirit of wringing life out of each moment, I shook off my initial hesitation and got started with the tai chi training here on a mountaintop in Hubei province. My trainer led me outside:

This cement slab across the street was where much of the training took place.

And this is what I worked on again and again….and again:

If you watch, tai chi mimics actual fighting moves that are slowed way down. It’s a meditative challenge, and it’s said to be healthy. Here’s a link to the Wikipedia page if you’re intrigued: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tai_chi_chuan

After my solo lesson, it was group time. Here were some other students and teachers at my school:

Let me also introduce you to the scenery that added to the ambiance in ways only thought possible in movies or imagination:

This was the actual view doing tai chi from this spot.

I was amazed at the how “kinetic” they were. So with it…so conscious of their movement. We in the West exercise, but we like to do it with headphones and even conversation. These guys seemed to truly be one with their body.

Here’s me giving it a whirl:

This was one of our trainers

And here’s where we were on the map:

This was the environment.

Here were some interactions:

It turns out, that cement slab we practiced upon was actually the roof of a mountainside shelter for other trainers and students. One time I heard some commotion over the edge below:

Tai chi landscaping

I hadn’t shoveled dirt in a while and found a spare shovel so dug in. No biggie. But the trainer down there (the sword guy from the picture above) interrupted my work to show me how its done. He took the shovel and blurted, “Ha!”, the shovel prepared for battle, “hoo!”, it was thrust into the pile, and “hwa!” it removed with a load of Earth.

On one hand, seeing this devotion to their practice wasn’t all that surprising—-I mean, it was a tai chi school. Just the same, it provided this striking example of taking this ordinary chore and perfecting it. He didn’t think about how to get it done faster or easier, but how to get it done better. Me? I started shoveling and daydreaming. Heck, if I had a relevant thought, it was “where’s the backhoe?” It seemed to be an illustration of a stereotyped, but nonetheless evident difference between classic East and West thought and action.

I took a walk into the valley forest with five others one afternoon to gather firewood and kindling. Bagging twigs and pine needles was a problem for one young woman because they cut her hands. She remedied the issue by taking two five-foot sticks and using them as giant chopsticks to pinch and lift the pile.

She wasn’t getting too far just as I don’t eating rice with chopsticks. But my fork-using, Western mind saw two rakes and used them to bundle together the pile like salad tongs. It was much quicker and they referred to me as being “so clever”. Well, I just eat different, I thought.

Then as we bundled the wood, we needed a tight packing to hold them together up the narrow and hilly path. Out-jutting branches had to be snapped, and one was proving to be difficult despite the kung-fu trained kicking the men were attacking it with. I saw a large rock and wedged it under the branch. Like a lever, the force of my undisciplined, less-effective kick was enough to snap it. They were grateful for my cleverness once again. I was elated that I could actually be helpful and contribute something. :)

It seemed they thought how to better use their body while I looked for alternatives to my body. These are generalizations, of course, but in the general we see trends, and in the individual people and individual examples, we see illustrations. I couldn’t help but wonder about the connections they played in the development of the East and the West. And best of all, it quaintly displayed the benefits in store when strengths are offered from different cultures. If even just gathering wood.

After work, we took a break:

Two young boys, the only ones at the school, were always together.

Meanwhile, the sword-shovel trainer stayed relentless:

You may wonder why his shirt is so dirty.

Here’s why:

He had another student stepping on his lower back, forcing those hips into the ground.

I’d regularly see him do handstands against a building with fists against the concrete. He was pretty intense.

In evenings, we’d go for a walk and take it easy. Less a participant than an observer, I watched the students and trainers socialize and sing while the head master entertained with music:

...well, tried to sing :)

From teamwork to culture to martial arts, these two days—though full of monotonous tai chi—were incredibly rich with lessons.

With all your heart, mind, and body, enjoy the moments you are living.

to new plateaus,

-Brandon

Beautiful View:

Singing Video:

 
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Up the Mountain; In the Now

25 Aug

I had a decision to make. After the small-town experiences of Henan province, was I going to travel north to sight-see the Longmen Caves? There, centuries ago, Buddhist monks decorated hundreds of caves with a museum of sculptures. Or was I to head south, into the adjacent province of Hubei? I read about a beautiful mountain there with an abundance of history itself. Wu Dang Shan (“shan” means mountain) was the birthplace of the rhythmic martial art, tai chi, and more than stunning views and culture, I could do something else—-practice tai chi.

Between the two it was a mental coin flip. But I recall the key factor that swayed my mind: I thought, quite vividly, “yeah, I can go see the art and caves and learn how these monks lived. Or I can go one step beyond, and actually live as they did, practicing a meditative art.”

The train arrived at Wu Dang Shan in northwestern Hubei province. As it chugged off into the horizon, never in my trip had I felt as alone as I did then—-and being an American trekking China for some days already, this is saying something. I wasn’t depressed lonely, just matter-of-factly solo. I was the only one who got off the train! I stood there on the platform in this rural land.

I saw this:

Hello, security guard guy.

and this:

Hello, food cart lady.

I actually missed the crowds of people who usually help indicate where to go. I went down some stairs minus the urban convenience of a ramp for my luggage, lugging my stuffed suitcase in that funny, leaning, swaying way you gotta carry something heavy in one arm. Such a bittersweet reality is this life without modernity! Now it was bitter; later it’d be sweet.

I exited the station out into the town, but rather than a downtown-y kind of happening place my guidebook told be about, it was just a few stores and small eateries. And in rural China, this looks pretty drab. And where’s the mountain!? I’ll tell you what I began to fear: I began to wonder if I got off at the wrong station! A young man approached and aggressively offered a ride. “Wu Dang Shan”, I said, stressing the “shan”. He nodded, which I liked, but offered a price that I didn’t—-as in an I’m-going-to-rip-this-foreigner-off-for-whatever-I-can price. A bit turned off, I couldn’t go with him despite his knocking the price down to less than half. Plus, there was a bus asking just a tiny fraction of what the young man wanted.

It turned out that the train station had moved since my guidebook was written and that this little outcrop of stores and shops seemed to be here as accompaniment to the new station location. Indeed it was a good 20 minutes until I got into the real town. But once I got there, I knew I was in the right place:

The quaint little city, also called Wu Dang Shan, sitting below the mountain of Wu Dang Shan.

I walked along the sidewalks rolling my suitcase along like a pet, looking for a hostel—which I never found. Luckily, the next best thing found me. A lady excitedly approached, motioning for me to follow her. I’ll tell ya, these Chinese are not shy about soliciting. She saw my luggage and all, I suppose. “What the heck?”, I thought, and followed her. I managed my heavy suitcase up another few dusty flights, entering her building. But from the plain, gray stairwell opened the door to a quaint little apartment with rooms renovated into a hotel.

My eager host on the right and a mother/daughter mountain-climbing team staying there, too.

This was great, and now with my base needs met I was able to step upon this platform of comfort and reach for the higher needs of my time here: tai chi up the mountain. I got online and onphone, talking with a school in town. There are a couple institutions and I found one with an English-speaking employee. The next morning, a trainer came to my hotel and took me away….

Before we left town, though, my trainer made sure I was dressed:

Feel free to judge me.

Once clothed, I was ready to ascend.

Honestly, though, I still kinda wondered where the mountain was. My limited, Minnesotan knowledge of mountainology didn’t understand the idea that a mountaintop is a long and windy road trip, and that along the way to the peak, sits several lower peaks and dipping valleys, going up and down and up like a bull stock market chart.

My trainer led the way:

'Come. Tai chi with me.' I didn't know much about this guy except he looked right for the part.

We arrived at the “base camp”, the area where we paid admission and hopped aboard a bus to the school:

On the way up, it started to get gorgeous.

I just had to hold on to my seat between shots. After several tight lefts and sharp rights, the bus slowed and my trainer pointed out the door. We were there:

This was my home for a short while, a modest place on the hillside. Let me give you a tour:

my room

The dining area and doorway to the bathroom and kitchen:

The kitchen:

The pets:

I named it Charcoal. But it didn't stick.

A couple days later, we all named this one 'dinner'.

My trainer and I arranged just a two-night/three-day stay. I know, I know, so brief, but I only had three weeks to trek China. And that being said, a day full of tai chi is a long day! We arrived this mid-morning and after getting settled in, my trainer took me back outside to begin. Not wasting any time. Time to jump right in.

And here I gotta say, I was a little unnerved about starting. (I remember thinking, “uh, can we do this after lunch?”) I found it was easier to talk about doing tai chi on the storied mountain on which it all began, than it was to actually get out here and do it! This truth affects us in many endeavors we wish to undertake, doesn’t it?

Tai chi training was an immediate challenge in that there’s no “escape”; the idea behind it requires you to be right there, as present as possible, as present as you are watching the seconds tick down in a close football game. Focus on the movement of your body (the slow, smooth movements); don’t drift off into thinking about last night’s TV show or what your friend did the other day. Other martial arts may have appeased me from the start with quick, distracting movements, satisfying a short attention span, but not tai chi.

I’d just have to be “there”, just me and my trainer. And knowing the schedule they kept–—hours and hours of this each day—-a part of me had that whiney, “I want to go in” kind of thinking. But “go in” where? To my boring, quiet room? And this wasn’t a health club class that you can look forward to leaving afterwards, fleeing for home and the TV, couch, and refrigerator to lose yourself in. Even if I did look ahead to the end of the training, after this morning’s session, there’s one this afternoon. After this afternoon’s session, there’s one this evening. And as soon as you wake up in the morning—at 5:30—there’s another. AHHH! I can’t wait until three days from now! Then I can go back into the city and…..and what, Brandon? Watch TV? Surf the net? And what would you make of your meantime here?—-always wanting for “three days from now”?.

BAM! Wake up, Brandon. This is the present and tai chi is going to slam it right in your face. How a subtle art like tai chi can slam anything is a wonder, but so is the magic of Eastern thought and practice.

It seemed like a downer, but realizing that I was here and ought get comfortable with it, was the beginning of a practice that I haven’t relinquished since. It helped solidify a way of seeing my life, a way that lessens the trap of living in the past, for the future, and wrapped up in the mind. It put before me loud and clear the initial pain, but voluminous blessings of staying present.

Stay tuned for the practice this Westerner undertook, reshaping my outlook and changing the defaults status of my racing mind.

to new plateaus indeed,

-Brandon

 
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Small Town Saturday Night

18 Aug

Howl at the moon; shoot out the lights. The folksy folks of small town China reminded me of the communities I grew up around.

As stated in my last post, the reason I chugged along 12 hours of train track southward of Beijing was to meet 99-yr-old Jing Yuan. But though she was the impetus for this destination in rural Henan province, the meat of my time was spent among the the surroundings and locals of the small town of Ruyang. This triggered some unexpected reflections about the joys of living in these cozy communities. Check it out…

I arrived groggy after a difficult night’s sleep on the train. It was one of those mornings when you witness the first light of day, but know you ought to be asleep instead. I hopped off my train car and awkwardly wheeled my suitcase over the dirt and track to get to the station platform. Hanging a left out to the town, I gratefully met my hosts. A former student of mine, June, set this all up. Jing Yuan was her grandmother and it was her family that housed, fed, and showed me around from the time I got off the train on that Saturday morning to the ride back to the station two days later.

It was 8am or so, and a bright, sunny day greeted my arrival:

For some reason these towns feature such wide streets. And only God knows why when they’re driving these things around: :)

It felt like the year 2011 here, but not an “American” 2011. Everything is painted with a thin coat of small-town China: a bit sloppier, traffic sporadic and disheveled, and all the little businesses along the main stretches open up with their garage-door-like front doors.

Here was June’s brother-in-law and his beautiful baby girl who picked me up at the station:

After meeting some other family, we piled in a van and went to their family-owned restaurant. In and around there was where I’d spend much of my time over the next 48 hours.

Here in small-town China, center lines are treated as suggestions.

June’s sister and husband (the brother-in-law) are the owners. Super cool, cause I got to gorge on a bunch of local foods made the way mom used to make. :) Here it is with the owners and employees out front:

Keeping it professional here; the cooks in the white, Sis in the middle, Mom 2nd from the left. (The kids didn't work.)

I kind of wondered about being a burden on them, but June assured me they were eager to have a visitor. I wasn’t too surprised by this as I’ve been treated so generously many places I’ve visited. The Chinese really adore Western people. Plus, June said I’d be their first American visitor. Perhaps I was the first American to set foot in this small town! Ruyang makes Bemidji look as diverse as the United Nations. So, I guess this made me the delegate for all Caucasians.

And there we are for you geography fans out there.

They brought me inside and offered me the goods. Time to gorge.

Children of the family and I digging into the mounds of fish, veggies, egg, noodles, and some seaweed stuff.

That’s the thing about China eatin’. They give you a bunch of platefulls of various foods that you think you’ll never even dent. But half hour later, it’s all gone! Cause it’s good. The crunchy, the salty, the sweet, tender and juicy and greasy, the light and flakey. Chinese food is awesome.

Let’s look at the trouble-makers who prepared the meal:

This restaurant likes their cooks unbuttoned.

And I like them to add that smokey flavor:

'Chinese Kitchen' needs to be on reality TV

Things picked up as evening approached and the kitchen started rockin’ and rollin’:

Check it out:

Small Town Saturday Night was upon us. A group of five dudes lumbered through the door, carrying themselves without a care in the world. They requested food like they owned the place—-not in an arrogant way, but with a warm familiarity. Oddly, the vibe brought me back to my days in high school, where growing up in a small town, I remembered the same total ease and comfort with which I moved through the halls. Like these guys—-like any small town, I think—-there’s no need to be self-conscious about acting the right way among a roomful of strangers.

By contrast, when living in a large city, the familiarity with most folks around us simply isn’t there. We rely on the social scripts we have for how to act in any particular setting. It’s not as natural. And a subtle, guarded nature most of us assume when in the company of many strangers isn’t too calming, either. But even without this defensiveness, it’s at least necessary to create a mode of indifference to the many people in urban life. It seems like you got to put up some walls.

(Gee, maybe I’m a small town boy after all.)

And I find it so darned interesting that I recognized this while here in rural China! After all, I lived 18 years in tiny Blackduck, Minnesota. But for whatever reason, being in this context helped me realize this small town charm. And it all started with these jokers:

They reminded my of my mother's uncles, actually.

A familial familiarity

Later on, I walked the dark streets of Ruyang. Some of the locals approached and looked at me. Some would say “hello” and giggle. To them, I’m a sight; but to me, I’m the observer. It’s a two-way street when you visit a different world. :) I approached an outdoor eatery, the kind I’d seen all over this country and what is known everywhere simply as ‘barbeque’:

Along the right, cooks with raw food and a propane grill set up shop; people then pick out the meats and veggies they want cooked.

Other than this crowd, it was quiet and clear this night. I’d missed that aspect of small-town living, too. The next day was a fresh look at a Small Town Sunday Morning:

And just for fun, here’s a shot of my hometown to compare:

Blackduck, Minnesota

Back in Ruyang, Brother-in-Law and I were on our way to breakfast:

On the way and enjoying the most important meal of the day:

The following day I left—-to another small town. This time not with the intention of reflecting on the past–as was the case with 99-yr-old Jing Yuan–but rather, of getting deep into the present.

You’ll see…

For now, let’s hear it for the small towns out there: the freedom and comfort and openness.

to new plateaus,

-Brandon

 
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China: Bone-Breaking Pressure

12 Aug

In China around 1000 years ago, a unique trend began in the area of fashion, custom, and duty. Parents started to tightly wrap the feet of their young daughters so the feet wouldn’t grow large. This binding became extreme enough to require the breaking of the toes and of the arch. And it evolved to become a common practice throughout all the classes of Chinese society for hundreds of years. This practice hasn’t take place for sometime now. And the society it represented was much different than the one we see in China today.

But it wasn’t that long ago–phased out in the 1930′s and 40′s–and the fact that things were so different just some decades ago speaks to how much change has taken place here. I think that’s what intrigues me about ‘xiao jiao’–small feet. They are a marker of this change. Also, they represent the actions people take under the weight of social order.

What’s more, soon after I arrived in Zhuhai, I learned that some elderly women still lived with these signs of old times. I wanted to find one of these women. Then one day in my adult English class we talked about family and student named June said she had a 99-year old grandmother back in her home province of Henan. I asked if she had the bound feet. June affirmed.

Four months later I got off the train in the city of Ruzhou in Henan province. Here I was greeted by June’s brother and brother-in-law. Her family would feed, house, and tour me around Ruzhou and the nearby, and smaller, town they worked in, Ruyang. I’ll share about these experiences next time, Readers.

For now, I want to get to Grandma.

On a Sunday morning, my second day here, that same brother-in-law, along with June’s mother and I, waited alongside a wide, empty road in town. Today they were taking me to see the woman I’d traveled so far and waited months to meet. A small bus approached and slowed. In we went:

Grandma lives outside of town—-outside of asphalt roads, as a matter of fact.

'Over the meadow and through the woods to Grandmother's house we go.'

After several miles of town and country, hills and fields, we stopped along a stretch. Now we had to walk it.

Past animals:

Moooo

baaaa

Past the landscapes:

Brother-in-law brought along baby daughter, too.

Finally, our sunny, Sunday stroll started to slope downward, meeting a few buildings at the bottom. We were there:

Right this way, sir

If curious, here’s some of the journey on video:

It was a farmstead, a compound that housed extended family as well. The queen bee of this hive stayed in perhaps the most humble brick/mud building. Brother-in-law led the way inside:

'Yeah, so we got this American dude out there who wants to check out your feet. You, uh, cool with that, Grandma?'

She expected me, and I entered. At first, I just watched the family interact:

Three of four generations. Mommy (June's sister) had to stay back at work in Ruyang.

I looked around a bit, too, checking out her digs:

Guess she likes corn.

Then I began to speak with her. (With the help of a bilingual friend and a speaker phone.) Her name is Jing Yuan, a 99 year old woman who’s lived around these parts her whole life. When she was six, her feet were prepared for the binding process. From what I’ve read, this meant stretching wet bandages around her little feet, wrapping her toes down and in. Eventually, the arch of the foot is pressured to break upward. It’s that tight. Jing Yuan did say that the pain wasn’t too bad if she didn’t move her feet. Unfortunately, walking on the bound and broken feet was necessary for the little girls to do to secure the shape. For Jing Yuan, this was 93 years ago.

I put her feet on my lap and removed the socks:

Where are the toenails and pinky toe?

Once the shape was set, the bindings would stay on—-for good. It was a big part of a woman’s day changing the bandages and washing—-crucial, too, as some girls died from infection.

There's the nails and the pinky toe.

We see or hear about these kinds of customs throughout the world and accept them without question. But I always wonder how they start. Historians think the wealthy wanted to emulate the small feet of some dancers of the day. But how that got to breaking girls feet is quite a leap.

What’s more understandable, I think, is how this trend could perpetuate and be maintained. This is interesting, too, because we can compare this to us. For one thing, like many trends, foot binding began in the upper class and trickled downward. (In America the same thing happens with baby names.) Foot binding became a symbol of wealth—-of not needing to do manual work. And somewhere along the line it became sexy.

So like a poor woman today with a knock-off Prada bag, the lower classes followed suit. (This was really tough, though, because the women in the these classes did need to work.) But they did it. Now go ahead and put yourself in the shoes (he he) of a parent during that time. If a girl in town has feet twice the size of the others, then according to your world, she’ll have no place in life. And all this in a society that held social acceptability to a level higher than we’ve ever known it in America. (Though we still know it in America.)

It’s such a pronounced example of the powers of culture and tradition.

Supposedly, it wasn't the bare foot that the men liked--for good reason--but the visual of the feet in their shoes.

Can we see the norms that we accept without question? The things we do to fit in? Our desire to be looked up to? The things we find attractive?

Stepping outside one’s culture is a beneficial skill because it’s enlightening—-and this level of actualization helps us lighten up. It’s freeing. :)

But what a sign of change! What was once seen as practically mandatory is now looked back on with interest and curiosity at best, disgust and embarrassment (by some people foreign and domestic) at worst. In a complete turnaround, the wealth and status exemplified by a woman’s bound feet was frowned upon and eliminated by the communist mentality and order. This new ideology praised labor and today you’ll see both men and women work on rebuilding a road or demolishing a building.

As a result of the political and social change, Jing Yuan “only” practiced foot binding for 50 years. She said taking the bandages off for good was also painful. The foot wants to adjust to its new freedom, though she said her feet didn’t change all too much:

There have been a lot of changes in Jing Yuan’s lifetime—-social and personal. I asked her to look back and she recalled being in her 20’s and 30’s and doing outdoor work with a cane. She also fondly remembered Mao Zedong and the founding days of modern China.

Here’s an illustration of the changes in this society: In one generation women’s feet size doubled: ;)

Mother and daughter

Well feet were made for walking–actually, some of these ladies couldn’t walk and needed to be carried. But this gal could, and can. :) Darn near a centenarian, she is!

To me, she’s a symbol of feminism, too, because she represents where China was and is today in the area of women’s rights.

Most feminine of all, I think, is her legacy of life she’s mothered, and grandmothered, and great-grandmothered…

Generations of Chinese women

Unfortunately, at this age, you’ll also see the other side of all this life:

Her son

Here she is on video:

As a child, her whole world was defined by the order that shaped her feet—-which her feet still symbolize today. But more than one social trend, they represent all the cultural sways of behavior humans take part in. And now, ironically, these feet clash with the same world she endured so much pain to fit into.

Only it isn’t exactly the same world, is it? The society, the trends, customs and behaviors that her generation of Chinese defined their lives by—-the whole aura of those days—where did the times go that required her feet to be bound?

They’re gone.

So remember not to get too bound up in the social pressures of our day.

To New Plateaus,

-Brandon

 
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A Little China Choo Choo

06 Aug

China train travel. Hmm, what’s that like? Well, that depends on where you are. From Zhuhai to Guangzhou—one city in Guangdong province to another—the train is brand new and the ride pristine.

Elsewhere I went….not so much.

These rides were the stereotype of Chinese train travel. And when I went to buy my ticket from Beijing down to Ruzhou in Henan province, I was in economy mode. So instead of buying a sleeper for the 13-hour overnight journey, I bought a seat.

Uh oh.

Beijing is the star. (Ruzhou, my destination, is just south of Luoyang.)

I was on my way to this small city, because just outside of it is a town called Ruyang. And just outside Ruyang lives a special, old woman who I’ll introduce you to next time.

First, though, I arrived at the train station on the evening of my last day here in Beijing:

Then, I had to see where to go:

Hmmm, let's see......

Soon, the time arrived for us to board, and a nice hoard of riders and luggage flowed toward the ticket-taker gate. Outside we went to board the train; inside we went into our car:

Oh boy...Where's everyone going to sit?

Oh, that’s right. They’re not–at least not on seats:

Sit tight, floor buddy.

It was around 8pm and I immediately began to dread the hours ahead when I’d be restless, tired, and unable to sleep in all this commotion. People were everywhere. One side of the aisle had sets of 2×2 seat-benches facing each other with a table top in the middle. To sleep, these riders could either try to lean back on the erect seats like an airplane. Or they could try to lean down on the table top, their arms or bags as pillows.

They were the lucky ones.

Cause the other side of the aisle had seat-groups of 3 and 3 facing each other. I got one of these, and on my particular bench, I was the monkey in the middle. Still, it was better than the aisle seat, because the table top on our side extended out only so far, leaving the this person with nothing to lean on to sleep. The 20-something guy in this predicament chose to kneel on the floor and lean against his seat as his head rest.

And we were the lucky ones…

Finally there were those in the car who had no seat. It’s better than not getting a ticket, but these poor folks either stood in the aisle, sat on their bags or on the floor, or picked up a makeshift stool that some lady was selling back at the station. (I saw her, too, and wondered what she was selling those things for.) Now I knew.

Looking around as I got comfortable, I met my fellow seat-group group:

These fellas were across from me.

So was this gal:

sleep-smiling :)

Sharing my bench were these fellas:

There were a lot of individual travelers around me. We each had our own destination and story. I inquired with them about their hometowns and such. Just about everyone had a different place they called home. “One China”, as they like to say, is quite true among the variety of peoples in China (with some ethnic exceptions), but even within this “One China” there’s a lot of differences to speak of.

One thing I’m always curious about is whether I can pinpoint a person’s province by their looks. That’s tough. Much more doable, though, is the difference between the south and the north—which I think is cool, because it challenges the idea of all Chinese looking alike.

Outside of our seating section, other travelers rode:

All through the night we journeyed with the intimacy of strangers. White noise hummed along with occasional knocking from the tracks. Our “dance” to this music was random, stuttering upper-body, back-and-forth sway-jerks. And if I can recall correctly, I think the car was lit up the whole time, too. No matter, I got exhausted and managed some sleep.

(And later, I’d have a sort of hindsight gratitude after hearing about the rough ride for a couple Austrian women. Their car was so crowded that passengers on the floor curled up at their feet, using the women’s back-packs as pillows.)

Finally, morning came:

"Zao sheng hao"

And at around 7:00, I arrived at Ruzhou train station:

Straight and to the left. That's where my ride was waiting. (But that's for next time.)

I talked earlier about the “lucky ones”, those who have better conditions than others on the train. But I’d say the lucky ones weren’t in this car at all. Folks in the sleeper cars were quite better off. (And hey, why stop there, right? Plenty opt out of trains altogether, for obvious reasons, and pay a few extra yuan for a plane ticket—where on this plain you have three more tiers of conditions.)

Here’s a peek at a sleeper car that I rode (I splurged) a bit later in my travels. It was fewer solo travelers and more families. Things were more spacious and, naturally, folks were well-rested. Things overall just seemed more chipper. It was a nice illustration that though money doesn’t make you happy, comfort sure helps.

Kids were playing some kind of 'paper, rock, scissor' singing game.

They got a kick out of me, an American. Some gave me seashells for gifts. Here’s one of the boys who was particularly adorable:

When in transport we have the chance to learn so much: the places people go, the stories they tell, the reasons for their travel. Americans, or course, love the automobile. In China, though, things are more public. And in a place that already is generally curious about Westerners, the train provides a fertile ground to nurture the interactions that make travel so special.

I look forward to next time when I get to share about an interaction that few people can have anymore.

to New Plateaus,

-Brandon

 
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Beijing means Business

28 Jul

Here’s a picture book for your eyes and minds highlighting some East/West capitalism, illegal entrepreneurs, and the business district of bustling Beijing.

Good stuff.

Remember the days when little Johnny, Tommy, and Sue could sell lemonade on the corner for a nickel? I bet this Chinese woman and her booking-selling son could fondly remember those days, too:

Actually, they still live 'em. But they gotta be careful...

This mother and son are two of uncountable amounts of folks in China that practice guerilla sales along the walkways and streets of urban China. The American in me sort of digs their free-spirits, out to make their buck, er I mean, yuan. They are dissuaded from these actions, though.

A couple minutes prior to this picture, I was looking at socks from the nearby sock-selling lady. Suddenly, she somehow bundled up her blanket of goods in professional form–in like one second–and was primed to bolt. No worries; false alarm. Pheww! These prey (salespeople) always have to be on the look-out for the predators: police, hungry to confiscate their humble, unlicensed inventories. (I understand the cops have plain-clothes officers mingling around whistling dixie for a sneak infiltration into these commercial zones, too.)

But for now, the sock lady put all her display back down–which was good–because I was eyeing a couple pairs for my own tootsies. I wanted to know how they compared to prices in Walmart, which was within sight:

I entered the Walmart, eager for a more American-style shopping experience. But in China, Walmart isn’t the low-price leader I know back home. Those street salespeople are. Socks in the store were double what the sock lady had them for. Boy, I hoped she was there when I left.

But Walmart did have something the street-sellers didn’t:

I can't imagine a story about a Christian holiday and the dream of a gun could relate to many Chinese folks. Nonetheless.

I left and went back to the outdoor entrepreneurs. I got my socks. And the book lady was still chillin’ with her son. My buddy from a couple posts back, Zhong Hua, happened to be with me this day so we asked the lady what was up. Why live this stressful life? There was a Walmart right there–couldn’t she get work?

Turns out her boy is off school in the summer. She needs to watch him; plus, they don’t live here, anyway. They’re from another province and come for summer money. In the fall they go back; the boy goes to school; and the mom goes to her other job.

Okay, so I looked again at her books and found a good one to buy. :) My best of luck to them:

Another slice of life in Beijing.

And let me say this: though circumstances are unfortunate, an attribute I see in almost everyone here is the understanding that you don’t get something for nothing. Everybody pulls their own weight. And when a billion people do this… Well, we hear almost everyday about China’s rise.

Later on, I jetted to see the other side of the business world–the shnazzy–to the business district. Though not as impressive as the skylines of Shanghai or Hong Kong, it’s no slouch. After all, Beijing is ground zero for the gargantuan government that is the CCP.

I got down there and felt right at home as if it was any nice, large city in America:

CCTV Tower (China TV)

Top brands, clean streets, nice-dressed folks. I felt a bit out-classed here. And something about an area like this heightens everyone’s “business” look, with the masks of “I’m busy; I’m on my way to someplace important” on their faces. The productivity and demands of the urban world can really program people into a tunnel-visioned, task-oriented, manner. This trend seems to reflect and build from one person to another, raising the whole to a level of noticeable non-personableness. I think this is why people talk about the cold nature of New York or wherever. This oblivious-to-others nature always has me feel a bit shunned. Made me kinda long for the humble alleys of pork buns and shirtless, smoking dudes near my hostel.

But whatever, I hung in there and enjoyed it–though at a quickened, city pace. And my hats off to those who weren’t swayed into this tense/reserved/pressured nature, who stay relaxed and friendly. :)

So that’s Beijing, Readers.

Oh ya, that and there’s a lot of people:

Rush hour subway

But I gotta move on, because well, I did move on. My following travels had me going south, to visit a special woman who links the present to a time long ago, to an age few can recall.

On the train to Ruyang. No, you’ve never heard of it, but I’ll get you good and familiar.

And thank you, Beijing. The combination of your size, energy, growth, and spirit are un-duplicatable. You continue to lead a billion people to wealthier futures. You teach the whole of humanity–about humanity–through your rich and living history.

to new plateaus,

-Brandon

 
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Shenanigans at The Summer Palace

22 Jul

Last time, we had a serious, meaningful chat about the power behind history–the way it helps clear up our present world and understand one another.

Great stuff. But this is a blog! not a dissertation.

Let’s kick back the way the emperors in China used to and head to their summer getaway known as, yep, The Summer Palace, one of Beijing’s tourist hot-spots. I had a nice time walking around; you’ll have a nice time reading about it. :)

I got there with the fine Beijing subway and entered the grounds not sure what to expect. I walked in, saw all the old buildings, the vendors, and the people. I took a right, down a quieter route along the outside of this building:

Yep, this is a palace alright. And this was just one of many structures.

Along a stone walkway spotted with trees a pond appeared. Others were there enjoying it:

Remember when you courted me at this pond?

They were looking off toward this nice view:

Meanwhile, I was looking down along with this boy:

These bright orange goldies really glowed in this grey pond. On a grey day overall, they were like little suns lighting up the world from the ground up. Their orbit was random yet graceful, several little suns gliding as one around the docks.

On the other side of the pond, a river broke free. I followed it. It wasn’t palatial but it definitely felt like a getaway. These must have ben some peaceful grounds to wander for the Chinese royalty.

Today, these guys are happy they can enjoy a relaxing afternoon away from the rest of busy Beijing:

See? Beijing is just like Minnesota.

Right, Ms. Li?:

zzzzzzzzzz

The fishermen caught their humble-sized catch like they were sunnies, sticking their lines in the water, the bobbers dancing frequently. It was just a matter of setting the hook in the tiny mouths.

How tiny?

Well, this other solo fisherman used a small water bottle for a live well:

heeyaa! I'm eatin' tonight!

One managed to jump out while I was watching.

Later on, things got a little hectic in the river:

Beautiful, though.

So I decided to get back to the proper tourist experience and join the crowds at the impressive buildings. I just had to walk a ways to get there:

Ever wonder the difference between Chinese, Korean, and Japanese? Well, Korean features the circles and Japanese offers the more simplified, one line characters. Both systems are offshoots of Chinese script.

Coming in through the “back door” I wound up at the large hilltop temple first. Here’s the impressive view looking out:

The lake actually takes up ¾ of the palace grounds. Considering the distance one walks, it speaks to the size of this place.

After looking out, I turned around and looked up:

Inside was a huge, many armed Buddhist statue. Unfortunately, they didn’t allow pictures. But let your imagination run wild. God knows the statue’s creator did.

Finally, here was the view looking down:

over the top

Working my way down this neat stairwell, I found my way to the bottom:

Looks like something from a video game

At the bottom, one could walk around the quarters. Many of the structures were converted to little museums. Others were off-limits. Many were said to house gifts for the Empress from other countries including France and England. Vendors decorated the area where tourists enjoyed the lake-level view. Some took a ride on a boat. Others sat and relaxed:

You couldn't ask for a more typical example of older female fashion in China. One day, apparently at around 50, the women throw out all their clothes and start fresh. Fresh as daisies. Fun side note: when reviewing fashion in my adult English class, "floral" may have been the toughest word for them to say. That or "rural".

I don't know what I was doing here, but onlookers thought the pose was funny. I had a little girl join me and the parents got a kick out of the pictures.
:)

Finally, I wandered around the lake and visited the old theater. It was a nicely built relic–thick hardwoods erecting a grand stage that required the presence of great performer to fill the void.

Indeed, they give performances on the stage, replicating the art from when the Emperor or Empress watched with their company of distinguished guests. They would arrive on man-pulled or man-carried carriages and enjoy:

Actually, I was impressed how entertained I was.

These girls are just giving a show for tourists, yet I could really dig the unique frequency that Chinese art vibrates at. There’s a lot of depth to it, moving something within. It’s cool that many tourists come to enjoy this art being resurrected.

After this I took one last look:

from a distance

And I left the imaginary world of royalty and peasants. (Boy, you could that again. My next stop that day was Walmart!)

to new plateaus,

-Brandon

 
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Beijing: Emperors and Communists

16 Jul

Beijing is one of the most storied capitals around. Most recently, it’s been the home of the government we all associate China with—the China Communist Party (CCP).

But before that was the Kuomingtang and prior to that was the more storybook age of emperors and dynasties. (Many are familiar with the Ming Dynasty 1300’s-1600’s)—as in, I just bought an antique Ming vase.

We can go on. Before these dynasties the Mongols had er under control in the 1200′s. They wrested it from other previous Chinese dynasties dating as far back as the BC’s. You get the idea. Beijing isn’t a modern creation, and it hasn’t been a stable one, either. If time-lapse video was available, you’d have a great appreciation for the changes and depth that each block beholds.

So in this post, I take slices of the city–the most famous slices, perhaps–and pivot them to reveal the depth behind these structures and the city as a whole.

Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be fun. I promise!

Remember the singers and musicians from my last post? They were in the Temple of Heaven Park. And it was here that those Ming, and later, Qing dynasty emperors would come to pray for bountiful harvests. Back then, China was much more openly religious and these sacred structures weren’t for commoners like you and I. (Unless I have some readers with Chinese Emperor blood.)

One of these sacred places.

Repainted, giving you the idea of how cool it looked.

The innards:

We hear about these emperors, and we have this disconnection with them, almost like they’re other worldly. “Wow, an emperor.” A fairy tale. But they weren’t out of this world—just across the world, ruling and existing somewhere far off. Where? Right here, standing on this very floor, sitting on this very chair.

I got a kick out of connecting with this place in these earlier times. But truth be told, it was only about 100 years ago when the emperors saw their last days. My, how things change fast! Nonetheless, these spaces were used by emperors from much earlier times as well, increasing the distance of the connection.

But enough of the Temple of Heaven. Time for the big action: Tiananmen Square and The Forbidden City.

Tiananmen Square is adjacent south of the Forbidden City. It’s a more recent development, actually, being widened and having new structures erected around it by the CCP in the middle of last century. But south of it, two old, large gates tie the whole complex together. They, too, are aligned north and south:

The further south gate: Arrow Tower.

And as seen in the picture, the space between the two gates is now used as a busy roadway; subway lines also lie beneath these surfaces. Modernity and classicism come together all over in Beijing.

On the other(north) side of this road:

The massive, Zheng Yang Gate

To be sure, these gates just by themselves are full of wall-talking history. Some of the interesting stuff involves the West. French and English forces actually controlled the city for a while in the early 1900′s. The rebellion against such invasion took place at these gates.

Then back north of these two lies the famous Tiananmen Square. Remember this shot?

This was from 1989. Anti-government demonstrations. (The tanks are pro-government)

Tiananmen square has been the location of immense pro and anti-government activity. It’s a pivot point for China and a location that demonstrates the changes over the years and the way these changes look overlapped today.

I mentioned the road splitting the two gates. At Tiananmen square, a centuries-old space denoting an age of emperors, was face-lifted in soviet-era styling. Once Mao passed away, his mausoleum was built:

Mausoleum on the right

It’s not the best picture, but I like what it says. The rear structure is the old gate. The middle is Mao’s Mausoleum, and the foreground is the open, Tiananmen square. I took this shot because I was struck by the many layers of China, right here.

One can do their homework and identify the Chinese of today as a communist people enjoying limited freedoms, a disinterest in religion, and an exuberance for their leadership. But communist China is just one small slice of history. Those who really do their homework are rewarded with the understanding that China is something bigger–a history, a culture, an era. The dynasties and governments have just dressed and decorated the spirit and being.

Looking at it this way, you see that today’s government is just a glue, a tool, an organization, used by that which is China—not the other way around. Whether Taoist, Buddhist, Atheist, Communist, Democracy, or even colony, that which is “Chinese” is bigger than any political or social or religious hat.

Then turning around, I saw the latest hat:

CCP is 90

And here’s their guy:

Mao and another example of the layering: a recent facade built on the existing Ming dynasty structure. This is the entrance to the Forbidden City.

The city was built right along with the Temple of Heaven. As such, it’s an exclusive residence for the emperor and his crew. For 500 years it was off limits. When the dynasties fell, the gates opened. Today, it’s a busy tourist spot, but it’s no trap. It’s an awesome collection of architecture and museums.

Here’s some pics:

This place is huge. We saw maybe half of it in the 4 hours we were there.

We? Well, I made a friend:

This young gentleman personified the kind of extraordinary kindness that I’ve experienced at times in China. I was walking Tiananmen Square, not really sure where I was going and asking other tourists. He approached and asked if he could walk with me, that he could show me around. I hesitated for a sec, wondering if I wanted a stranger with me the whole day. But my second thought was, “why not?”. Zhong Hua was great company and super helpful.

Some more Forbidden pictures:

I dug the untouched buildings.

Back in the garden

Being here, one gains a great perspective, a swath of a view that sees much of what went on and how much things have changed. Here I was, walking on the once-exclusive stones that emperors had walked. And here was everyone else and their uncle, as mild mannered and care free as if it was a town square. They likely are all descendants of those commoners who toiled in the hillsides and fields, off limits to what went on in these walls.

This kind of history loudly declares the large factors at work directing the sways of humanity. It’s humbling; it’s freeing.

to new plateaus,

-Brandon

 
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Beijing: On a Day of Worship

11 Jul

Having gotten in late the night before, I reserved this day for what I was taught Sundays to be: the Sabbath, and lazy days for whatever. So I simply planned to get to know the city before all the heavy touristy stuff kicked into gear during the week. First thing I did when I got up? Checked out my digs:

One advantage of hostels over hotels, besides price, is the community vibe. And being open to your fellow guests means being open to the scenery as well. The perfect attitude for travel.

This hostel even took this element up a notch:

Fishies and turtles. :)

And it being a hostel and not some stuffy hotel, I was free to be me:

Okay, enough turtle-play; time to set out.

Though nearby, I avoided the sight-seeing mainstays (Tiananmen Square and Forbidden City) on this day. I read about a church nearby and always wanted to write a piece about religion in China. In fact, this lazy Sunday ended up being a day of witnessing worship in a couple of ways by local Beijingers.

Let me show you.

First, just outside my hostel was a network of narrow alleyways known as Hu Tong. They’re an attraction themselves as lots of history has passed through their narrow corridors. Plus it’s enjoyable to feel the intimacy with Beijingers—the small shops, the humble, concrete-built homes, and the bicyclers peddling their old contraptions:

Being near the touristy areas of Beijing, here was an alleyway converted accordingly:

Gnarly, James Bond villain-like dude there to welcome you.

But soon I left the maze:

Things opening up

It was gorgeous outside, absent the smog. Just blue skies and Beijing heat. After walking this, the streets of restaurants and souvenir/convenience shops became avenues offering museums, hotels, and government buildings. This area had an executive/formal feel to it. None of the buildings were very tall, leaving access to the wonderful weather.

St. Michael’s church, a Catholic church, was only a handful of big Beijing blocks away. I approached the old steeple with a cross atop around noon. Mass was in its final stretch:

Wrapping things up

Black-haired heads I assumed to be Chinese filled the pews, but a monitor of text had me question my assumption. (You can always tell Korean characters by the circles.) Asking a nearby nun, I found out that this was, indeed, a Korean congregation.

Don’t see too many of these gals in the U.S. anymore.

Though there are several Christians in China, Koreans seem to have really taken to it.

A few Chinese and myself lined the back to observe as everyone exited:

peace out

I stayed to look around. The church had that solemn feel and featured pictures along the side walls of Jesus at different times in his life. This small to mid-sized church wasn’t overdone, but offered a nice environment.

looking back

I always appreciate the deeper self that is reached during worship and while being in such a building. People come here to tap into that real, more serene self, and that aura always has me leaving a better person.

:)

Afterward, I meandered and moseyed south towards, fittingly, Temple of Heaven Park. It’s well known for its historic structures (so they get ya with an admission charge). Dad gummit.

park entrance

I walked in and right away felt the shine not just of the sun but of the energized folks around me. It was great. They were pair-dancing to Chinese tunes with Western pop beats.

They were really into their dancing. So was I.

I have much praise for both large and small cities. Here though, I felt that energetic presence that citizens in the largest cities have: a freedom of timidity to enjoy themselves in confident, expressive ways. These dancers reminded me of some skaters in New York’s Central Park I saw a few years back: not punk skateboarders or even cosmopolitan roller bladers. No, these were vintage 4-wheel roller skaters, dance-skating to old hip-hop and disco beats. Funky stuff; and fun to absorb. As was this scene in Beijing’s Temple of Heaven Park.

It’s inspiring to see people so free to do what makes them happy. As such, I felt like I arrived someplace special. Better make a note of it:

That a way. Friendly Beijing woman helped with the map, too.

After this performance, I delved deeper into the expansive park. Later, after getting a little shade and turning down some overpriced ice-cream, I heard some music.

And I followed it.

A large group of mainly middle-aged singers congregated around a band. It looked like an informal gathering, perhaps just a Sunday afternoon pass time.

But I found it noteworthy that the music sounded like a hymn and the folks sang like choir.

go for it, man

loud and proud

See, I know China as an agnostic country, but I’ll be a six-toed sloth if the group I saw wasn’t worshiping something. It certainly had the look and feel of it, and so I enjoyed seeing the folks here, as the Koreans in the church this morning, elevate to a place of love and joy. I learned that though most Chinese claim to be agnostic, the search for something deeper exists in everyone.

Their elevation rubbed off on me. Maybe through the power of the Internet, you can get a taste of it yourself. :)

to New Plateaus,

-Brandon

Next time, I’ll take you out of the day-to-day and into the past, right here in Beijing: ground zero for some of the richest history on Earth.

 
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Taxi Train Subway Plane

06 Jul

My first day on the road also included some time on the tracks and in the air.

In case you missed my last post, I’ve begun a three week trek across central China. I may be in the same country, but now I’m without the daily work grind to keep things consistent; rather, I have daily doses of fresh sightings and off-the-cuff activities with an itinerary full of perspective-changing places to tour.

The whole attitude is a plateau of exploration and absorption.

So get ready to soak.

Here’s my three week itinerary, loosely: My first seven days are in the historic and mighty capital, Beijing:

From here, I’ll head to a small town in Henan province, just to the south of Beijing. Here, I have a date with a special, old Chinese woman to speak with about the old days–and in China that means a whole different society, government, and world.

I'll be in a rural area south of Luoyang.

After this trip down China memory lane, I’ll ride present tracks westward to the ancient capital of Xi’an.

And after that?

Well, I left a little wiggle room at the end. Right now I’m thinking further west may be the route.

Now, let me introduce you to my travel companion:

I've invested a lot of spare minutes studiously staring the striations on this paper. It was coming with.

You’ll be seeing me do this at various points along my journey:

See there? That's Zhuhai; That's where I am. :)

But I wasn’t for long.

Moments after that shot, I was out of the apartment and out of Zhuhai.

Via many different modes…

I taxied to the bus station:

Just pretend that's me there.

Then on the bus I hopped:

This took me north to the train station.

Aaaaaalllllllll Aboard!!! A super-new, super nice train taking me further north to Guangzhou, where I'd fly out to Beijing.

Trains are a neat topic because, well, trains are cool; but also because they conjure up some controversy back in The States. Obviously, they’re expensive and so require the right conditions. Even then, they don’t pay for themselves via ticket fees, so public subsidization makes people wonder if they’re worth it. Then again, roads need subsidization, too.

Where do you draw the line?

Or do you tear a a new one?

Right now they’re cutting a major corridor between St. Paul and Minneapolis. The image of a fresh new train taking smiling faces to and fro has many seeing past the current chaos of detours and jackhammers. Federal dollars granted to the Twin Cities from like-minded Washingtonians helped see the project come to fruition.

Let’s hope it’s a true benefit to the community. And since it’s political and tied to ideology, let’s also hope that people can look back minus this veil to decipher the wisdom of the decision. In China, I don’t hear the clamor of debate regarding trains. Of course, could they change things if they wanted?–Do they want to? The Chinese are reliably supportive of government projects.

I don’t know the finances of the train I was on. I hope it was a good investment. All I know is that I paid a small amount for a good distance and the ride was cool, comfortable, and smooth. I’m looking forward to my next train ride on this trip–though it is an overnighter in a seat!

Here were some sights on the way up to Guangzhou:

my seat neighbors

Always a lot of building going on in China

Always a lot of people, too, as seen when we got off the train at the Guangzhou subway station:

Underground we went:

We were gophers (or moles, or worms) burrowing to the airport in this contraption:

tunneling

Lastly, I went from underground to the high skies. The flight was ordinary, but my earphones didn’t work, thus I couldn’t listen to the movie which was an English film, “The King’s Speech”. I found it odd the earphones weren’t electronic; they worked like a stethoscope.

Oh well, guess I had to make conversation with the woman next to me:

hello, there

It paid off, too.

I was in need of a ride into the city. The Beijing airport is a ways out. We got in past midnight, so the trains didn’t run. My only option was a spendy taxi. I asked my new friend if I could share one with her. She said something in broken English about that being okay, her husband coming, too.

Whatever, sounds good. :) I’m gonna save 100RMB!

We landed and got our bags. Indeed, we left the terminal and met her son and husband. She mentioned me to her husband like “the one on the phone I told you about.” If he ever looked at me, it was for the shortest second. I had the feeling he wasn’t happy to have me. I realized, then, that it wasn’t a taxi, but their own car we were taking. I wouldn’t want to take a stranger to his hostel at 12:30pm somewhere in the huge city of Beijing, either. But I was stuck in the middle of his reasonable annoyance and her Chinese hospitality.

And of course they put me in the front with him. I tried to make some small chat, but “I don’t understand” is what he responded. They needed to know where to go and couldn’t read the directions I had in lettered Chinese (known as pinyin). They needed the characters. I had a phone number (and a dead battery on my phone) so sheepishly I asked them to call my hostel. They did and got directions.

It was then several miles of trying to keep it light. Then at one point Dad threw on the hazard lights and abruptly pulled over on the urban freeway, onto an exit lane. “What the heck?” I thought. The car stopped, Mom opened the passenger’s side back door holding her toddler just outside as he peed–on the freeway.

A little later father had to call my hostel again and spoke loudly. The Chinese like to bellow anyway, but I think he was frustrated and lost. Oh boy. Were driving down alleys just wide enough for the side mirrors to clear (one time we had to pivot them inward to squeak through). But before I started making alternative sleeping plans, he stopped the car, opened his trunk, and pointed. We were there. Mother refused any money. Gosh, I hope they weren’t far from their place.

They left and it was just me and Beijing. And since, I’ve been having a great time and learning much.

The next day was Sunday. I walked into a church service and later witnessed some “worshipers” in a nearby park.

You’ll see.

to new plateaus,

-Brandon

 
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