Hello Everyone,

I thought I would go ahead and continue with my thoughts on hitting and spitting, because inevitably when I get the chance to write to you all, I become a bit overwhelmed by all that I wish to share.-

Just like in America, my day usually begins quite early, but unlike Plymouth, if for some reason I am not up and at 'em by six ten AM, then the music blasted from the loud-speakers on campus will help motivate my morning.  It is not the national anthem, but it is the same music played before all athletic events... and on repeat, so just in case I miss it the first time around, maybe the second or fifth will do the trick.

I usually avoid the later repetitions by escaping through one of the three gates to campus and running away.  If I turn left and run two blocks, then I find myself at the odd recently-constructed, anciently-styled bookstore/temple by the river where I usually turn right, and continue to the West and to the past.  After just five minutes, I am running on dirt roads through rice and cotton fields that are outlined by narrow, raised footpaths and interrupted by oxen and water buffalo.  There are no fences, but the large beasts do have long ropes dragging many feet behind them that originate from their right or left nostril. (If the bison in South Dakota had been similarly strung, my fear of passing them while hitch-hiking would have been greatly reduced).

Sometimes my morning excursion takes me as far as the small lake with the big statue.  A twenty foot high, mustard colored Buddha looks East across the fish-filled waters back towards Gao'an, where I return to eat breakfast before facing my day of teaching five or six English classes (except for Tuesday; just two, and English Corner).

I hope those brief notes on scenery help add just a bit more to the background of the cartoon I trust you are all creating of my life.  If not, then perhaps a description of the people I pass will;  By the temple, some people greet the new day in groups performing synchronized movements while others go it alone.  If you were here, and were so inclined, you could become a fan-snapper, a sword-wielder, a drum-thumper, or hip-circler.  The groups are largely comprised of people who are beyond the years of readying small children for school, but I am sure they would welcome newcomers of any age.  Those who choose a more independent morning can be seen walking backwards, or stooped slightly with feet firmly planted making small circles with their hand-rubbed knees.  Most of the actions are benign, but the occasional senior citizen seen violently hopping about, or flinging his or her feet above his or her head still elicits a slight hitch in my breathing.  My favorite trick is the repeated slapping of the lower-back.  It, along with some of the other odd routines, seems like a bad idea, but it appears to be working, as I see the same people at it again bright and early the next day.

When I have finished running, I return to campus and make my way over to the grey-cinder track that encircles an infrequently if ever mowed field where there are more tai-chi chai tea practitioners, more backwards walkers, and pajama-wearing joggers passed by denim-clad runners.  At the parallel bars, people can be seen swinging, dangling upside down, and swishing their feet to and fro.  There is also a group of "eight to ten" women dancing in time to surprising hits from America's nineties such as "I Like to Move It Move It" and many more. 

I know that my mother would love this town, as it surely must be the dancingest town this side of the Mississippi.  You can start your day dancing fame-style and finish it with a waltz by the river.  A source of daily delight that shall remain undiminished during my tenure here is the amazing transformation that occurs at the temple/bookstore. 

After the swords have been sheathed and the morning fans folded, the building casts the shadow of its roof with upturned corners on a quiet square where few people linger in the heat of the day.  By night, my friends, an incredible sight.  Every evening around seven thirty, the music starts thumping, and the square is transformed by hundreds, yes hundreds of people participating in synchronized dancers similar to the electric slide.  Perhaps you can imagine my astonishment the first evening this spectacle greeted my eyes.  Perhaps you can not.  But when I found out it happens every night... "Every night?" -Yes, Tyler, every night    unless it is raining.- "No way. Every night?"

And indeed my friends, every night, there are four different groups surrounding the temple of new books performing an amazing array of dances known by all.  One group slows things down later in the evening with tangos, polkas and waltzes.  Mom, you would love it.  As for me, so far, I love watching.  I create enough of a spectacle by sitting down in one place for a few minutes, Perhaps when my daily exercise has increased my fortitude sufficiently, I will be able to endure the hundreds of eyes that would certainly be watching my every mis-step.

I hope that all is going well where you are. 

I am great.  Until next meeting, be well.  - Tyler

Comments:

I would like to echo Xuludiguo's reasoned comments and add my own emoticon: