Invitation Letter

So I am still trying to get a work visa. I know I have been talking about this for months now (actually I think it has been more than a year already). I have spent the last five months going from one office to the next, collecting red stamps and handing in copies of my passport. I finally got my Invitation Letter that I have to take out of the country to an embassy to apply for the much sought after work visa. This paper said in big bold letters that I had to return to Canada, and I had to have done it by January l0 (only ten days from the time it was in my hand). The story of my life, having to make last minute trips out of the country.

There was a lack of consensus on this date and its meaning. Some other foreigners who have gone before in this process claimed that the date was only an estimated time frame and that I had up to thirty days after that to get it in. Others said I had to not only have left the country before then, but I had to also have come back before that date.

All this confusion and stress was really starting to wear me down, when I finally used someone else's good connection with a government office, to re-issue me a new Invitation Letter with a date that better suited my own personal travel plans. Now that is what I call a real gift from the government.

Governments Gift

My friends aren't the only ones who decided to give me a gift for my birthday. The local government published an article on the one web page our province has had access to for the last seven months saying that they are going to "slowly start to re-open" international communication (ie: Internet and phone calls). I have been asking my friends when they think this slow opening will have us back up and running full throttle. Most people guess it will be at least another six months before we are back to where we were before this summer's situation. While six months still seems like forever without being able to regularly check e-mail, at least we have an update, at least the government has given us some news, some hope, the mention of some sort of plan.

Timmies Run

If you are a Canadian, or if you have ever been to Canada, I don't need to explain how much Timmie Runs are a part of the everyday ebb and flow of life. When I was in college I use to stop in everyday on my way to work or school and grab a large double-double and a sour cream glazed doughnut. There were many days that I would need another pick-me-up half way through the afternoon. I have so many good memories hanging out at Timmies with my friends, and now I can add one more big one to that list.

With the Internet still being off I don't know when you are reading this....but December 28th was my 30th birthday. Sadly the day didn't start the greatest for me (I was still really exhausted from basket delivery the night before. Yes the Christmas season was just so busy we put off playing Santa until two days after Christmas. We figured people here always celebrate their holidays for days after the event and they would never know the difference). This old body could barely make it out to the living room. My roommate unexpectedly had to head into work for the morning, and I couldn't find my favorite Tim Horton's coffee mug anywhere.

As I was laying on the couch trying to recover from the long trip from my bedroom one of my friends called. She was also not feeling well, I guess she had eaten something the day before that had sent her stomach into convolutions (it is funny this girl and I often are affected by the same foods). She was calling to see if I could come over and take care of her. Normally the three minute trip to her house would not be a big deal, but on days when I am moving slow, and the ground is slippery it seems like miles to me. I made apologies that I just wasn't up to it and hoped she felt better soon.

She called me back a few seconds later to tell me that she had been lying and that she was on the road walking towards my house to pick me up and take me back home with her. I have to admit to being a little mad, I mean if she had a birthday surprise that was worth lying to me for, why didn't she just bring it with her instead of making me go back to her place.

We made the slow cold trek to her house and when the door flew open I was greeted with the most amazing sight. There were all of my closest friends wearing Tim Horton name tags. They had moved the kitchen table to act like a front counter. There was my favorite "missing" coffee mug filled with freshly brewed Timmies coffee (they had had the grinds sent from Canada) and homemade sour cream glazed doughnuts. They had traced the logo off my mug and had made signs for the walls. We spent the morning just sitting around Tim Hortons on the other side of the world, drinking coffee and hanging out. It was the sweetest birthday treat ever.

10 Baskets in 1 Night

This year my friends and I decided to celebrate Christmas like we did last year, trying to outdo Santa himself by delivering baskets of goodies to friends and neighbours. Last year we were set on the people we wanted to deliver to. We went to homes and if people weren't there we tracked them down at restaurants or offices to deliver our gifts.

This year we were a little more flexible. While we had developed pictures of us with our friends and framed them, we were willing to grab out the picture and change who the basket went to at the last minute. We gave them to our vegetable lady, the lady who owns the photo copy shop, the young girl who works at the convenience store near our house, the wait staff at our favorite restaurants and more. Only one of the homes we went to was a repeat from last year's basket delivery extravaganza. At each stop we sang one stanza of a Christmas carol in both our native tongue and theirs. We also included a letter that we had written in both the local languages that told the reason for the season. It was a great night, but once again we were totally exhausted.

2012

I don't know how big of a deal this movie has gotten to be back in the west, but out here it is the have-to-see-flick of the year. Everyone on the street is buzzing with talk of this movie. I have now watched it in both English and Uyghur, and while yes the cinematography and special effects are pretty amazing, like when all of California falls into the ocean, the truth is I still don't really know what all the fuss is about.

But apparently this movie has a lot of people worried about the end times. There are men standing on street corners selling nothing but copies of this one movie, reminding people to be prepared for the end. The movie shows rich people being able to buy their salvation. My friends here see themselves as having no hope to be saved if this is the case.

Country Cousin

My Uyghur mom and her family recently took in a distant relative to help them raise their grandchildren. They have two small boys that it is mainly their responsibility to raise. Their son is living in Europe and their daughter-in-law who, lives with them, is a police officer and is so busy with work that she is hardly ever home. That means that my mom, who is almost 65 spends her days running after a five year old who is tough and has never heard the word "no".

I kept telling them it was too much for them to handle on their own. In the end their daughter-in-law asked a second cousin living in the country to move in with them and help with the children. She is a 12 year old girl, who like I mentioned before is not registered. Twelve is a weird age for girls some of them look like they are going on 30, and others, like this young girl, look like they're still 8. She has learned how to read and write along the way, but doesn't really speak any of the national language. She can barely lift the baby but she is very dedicated to helping with the laundry, dishes, cooking, and such.

My Uyghur parents have offered that if she is willing to stay and help around the house they will pay for her to go to a training school after their grandchildren have started school. It sounds like such a sad life for a young girl, but living with my Uyghur mom and dad and having an opportunity to learn a trade is a lot more than she could have hoped for otherwise. Her mom is getting remarried and her soon-to-be-step-father wants nothing to do with her. Sad stories like these are a daily part of my life.

Give or Take a Couple of Million

If you read my last blog post you might have noticed that I took an estimated guess at how many people live in this city. It might not be an exact guess considering I allowed for a difference of up to 2 million people, but population is a hard thing to nail down around here. For instance, there is a law on the number of children a family can have. Uyghur families living in the city can have two, those in the country can have three. But some people don't abide by the law and end up having more children. In order to keep these extra children they either have to a pay a big fine to the government, or else keep the child a secret by not registering them. A non registered child officially does not exist, which means they can't go to school and they are not included in a population count. These children will end up being street sweepers, house cleaners and such. They will never be able to move up in society because they officially don't exist. As sad as it sounds it is actually a very common thing, so common that some people actually figure there are likely two million unregistered, non legal children.

Weird Sights and Smells

So the other day I stepped out of my apartment to see a cow standing by the garbage pile. Keep in mind, we are living in a city of 3-5 million people, but the sight of the cow in the middle of my apartment complex was somehow not that surprising of a sight. I naturally assumed that many of my neighbours would be eating beef for dinner. As sure as sure could be a little over an hour later when I came home there was no cow, but the ground outside my front door was all bloody and red.

No Saying No

I was babysitting some of my friends children recently and was amazed at how well they listened. They understood that when I said no, I meant no. They willingly accepted my authority and listened so well.

I am not use to this attitude. Uyghur's believe that you should not discipline a child until they are thirteen and old enough to handle it. I have been over visiting some of my Uyghur grandmothers and while they were in the kitchen getting tea their grand kid has punched, bitten, and kicked me. When the lady came back and saw their precious child playing roughly with me, they didn't tell them "no" or get the child in trouble. Instead they just joked with him "you better stop this or big sister might not come back to visit you" "if you keep hurting your big sister her father might have to come and beat you up and he is a big, mean, strong man" (she issues the threat without knowing what a gentle and kind man my father really is). Disciple was issued only in terms of empty threats, it doesn't take a kid long to understand there is nothing behind them. It is just supposed out here that young children will be naughty and there is nothing to be done about it but wait.

Visiting some of these friends once landed me in bed for almost a week with a sore back. The kid had head rammed me in the stomach, driving me back into the wall. I was actually scared to go back to that ladies home and actually found out when her grandson was in preschool so that I could do my visiting when he was not around.

Worth it After All

So last week I was using the blog to bemoan my age and complain about a long night spent outside the airport. Our vacation is coming to a close and as I reflect on the relaxing week it has been I am forced to admit it was more than worth one uncomfortable night. I think the pictures can speak for themselves.

Great Views

Cable Car rides in the sky

Tall Waterfalls

Splashing in the waterfall's pool

And of course : The Beach

Fish Feasting on My Feet

Part of our annual holiday fun is to get a foot message or some sort of Asian spa treatment; it is cheap but relaxing and makes us feel fantastic. This year we saw an advertised fish message. Yes you read that right; it is a fish foot message. You stick your feet in a big over sized fish tank and let all the little guys swim around and in-between your toes eating the dead skin off your feet. Their mouths tickle against the bottom of your feet, but the result is pretty amazing. After 30 minutes of sitting there my feet were as soft as can be.

Too Old For This

To save on the cost of one night in a hotel, some friends and I decided to spend the night waiting around the airport. Our flight landed in at 12:30 a.m. and we had to be going again by 7 a.m. the next morning. While this is never the wisest idea, it is manageable if you can find a bench off in a back corner, then you and your friends can take turns dozing off or being the one to stay awake and watch the stuff. However, last week our brilliant $25 (spilt three ways) plan back fired on us. You see the airport was being fumigated, and even the 24 hour McDonalds was closed for 6 hours. We were all locked out of the airport and spent most of the night restlessly on the hard ground outside the airport. It was a miserably uncomfortable, muggy, long night, but it did teach me one very important lesson: "I am way too old for this".

Visual Contradictions

My friends and I had a six hour layover in Macau last week and we decided to go out and explore the city. Talk about confusing your senses: The city was a balance of old ruins and brand new bright light casinos.

It was also a weird blend of Portuguese and Chinese. All the architecture looks like it was pulled straight out of Portugal but the music sounded like it came from Beijing opera, and all the decorations look just like what I imagine most of China looks like. It was a sea of contradictions that were hard to put in their place.

Macau, use to be part of Portugal, but in 1999 the city was given over to China with the promise that nothing would change for 50 years. That means that you don't need a Chinese Visa to visit Macau and it is a cheap fun place to have a layover when travelling. All of the signs around town are in three languages, Chinese, Portuguese, and English.

No Two Snowflakes are Ever the Same

When we started to get into the Christmas mood out here my roommate and I decided to throw a party and invite some of our friends over to help us decorate. We got out the paper, markers, and scissors and decided we could have our friends help us make paper chains for the tree and cut out snowflakes for the window.
I had already make a few snowflakes before the guests arrived (ever since elementary school I have loved cutting out snowflakes and trying to make them as delicate as I can). Several of our friends saw the samples and decided they wanted to make them, but no one knew how. We had a group of over ten local college aged friends and none of them had ever cut out a snowflake before. I explained how to fold the paper, where to cut and where not to cut, I even made a new one as I explained. They all folded the paper, picked up one of my finished one and used it as a tracer. I tried to explain that no two snowflakes are the same and they they should use their own imagination to make their own. At that suggestion some of them gave up and went to make paper chains or to help hang the lights.

The whole situation made me think of what my American friends had commented about when they sent their kids to a local school. The education system here is based solely on rote memory and following examples to the letter. Creativity and imagination are not encouraged in school. They tell the story of when the teacher called them in because their son's picture of a cow was not the same. The teacher had been teaching an art lesson on how to draw a cow. Their son had changed his picture by making the cows head down and having him eat grass. The little boy had even added the grass to the picture. The teacher saw this as a child not able to follow directions and called his parents in for a meeting. The parents saw their son's picture as creative and fun, and praised him for thinking outside the imposed box.

Thinking back on this story reminded me why none of these young adults had never made a snowflake before. We cut them in school as an expression of our individuality, not a strict lesson in following rules. My friends still wanted a sample and so they cut out ones that were identical to mine. Now in our window there are more than 'two snowflakes that are the same'.

Coats Inside Out

Culture and customs can manifest themselves in the simplest every day actions. A westerner was visiting out here recently and I offered to take their coat. As they passed it to me they folded the coat by grabbing the shoulders and folding it. I took the coat and without even thinking about it refolded it the other way. My guest raised their eyebrow just slightly at my reflex action. Locals out here fold their coat so that the inside is facing out. They value keeping the outer part of the coat clean. I have had so many Uyghur guests through my home, and taken so many local peoples coats for them, that I now routinely fold them inside out. It is such a small thing, but it does reflect the little customs that are unique to different places and different peoples.

Using Internet

This post is once again coming to you live. I am out of the province, out of the country and on the internet. It's great! I am smiling from ear to ear right now. For the last few months we have been making a list of things to look up and do when we have internet again. Anyway over the next few days I will be adding pictures to past posts and such. Now is the time to leave comments, since I will actually get to read them myself. Thanks to those of you who have been leaving them, even though I wasn't able to check them personally until now, it is still fun to go back and read.

Since getting into town last night, I have already gone into the office to apply for a visa (I can pick up my first year long work visa on Thursday). I also got to sleep in and eat good food with friends.

Holiday Hostess

Due to the flu not all the students will be able to return to their home towns over the Korban Festival. My roommate and I got to thinking how lonely and miserable it would be to have to spend Christmas in dorm away from family and friends. We may not be good Uyghur Mama's but we figured we could open up our home over the holiday for some of our local friends who are stuck here away from their families. So the night before Korban the girls came over to our house and prepared some traditional food (lamb meat ball soup). They all shared some favorite traditions and memories and we tried to make as many of them come true as we could. Normally foreign students around the world feel honoured if they get invited to someone's home to share in the traditional holiday, this year we, the foreigners, played host to a festival that was not our own.

A Gun to the Head

My roommate works for a translation company, the other day two strange men came strolling into her office. They were dressed in uniforms and entered saying "everyone stay seated and don't move". The younger man pulled something from his pocket and pressed it against my friend's temple. A momentary fear griped her as the man pressed a button on the object pointed at her head. "37" the man said curtly to his associate, before moving on to her next work mate. It took my friend a second to realize they were taking every one's temperature to check for H1N1.

I had a similar experience last week just trying to go into a book store. It seems like all over the city people are scared of the spread of the virus. If a class have five students report being sick, the rest get the week off as well. My winter cough has set in, but I am scared to cough anywhere outside for fear that someone will lock me up in isolation for a week.

Face Mask Instead of Fruit

When news of the swine flu first started to be reported last year, I heard more than one Uyghur joke that we wouldn't have to worry, since the Uyghur diet is no pork allowed. But as we know H1N1 has spread far and wide and there have been some reported deaths in our city. This has fears running high and face masks on.

Every local store now sells surgical face masks. They come in every colour and fashion print imaginable. The other day my friend came over for a visit, but instead of bringing me the customary gift of fruit, she brought a pale purple heart print face mask.

Mehrigul Gets Ready for the Holiday

The Islamic holiday of Korban is fast approaching (or it will likely be over by the time my mom posts this blog entry for me) and I decided to go to the bazaar and let my neighbours help me get ready. The week before the market was just bustling with people preparing. People buy fruit and candy, cakes and cookies to offer when guests stop by, most women buy a new outfit so they have something pretty to wear when they go shopping, and some people buy small gifts for the children.

As I walked through the market I could hear people whispering to each other "that was the girl who was on the Lucky Star game show last week", or "that is the girl who was on T.V., her name is Mehrigul". Other people just started singing the folk song I had sung as they walked by. I stopped a group of college aged girls and asked if they could help me get ready for the holiday. For the next two hours it seemed like everyone in the market was thrown into the task of helping Mehrigul get ready. Those girls helped me choose a black, gray, and pink plaid skirt. At the next store other people helped me find a bright pink sequent sweater to match. Some old ladies helped me pick out pink stoned heart shaped, surrounded by diamond looking earrings. I had more help getting knee high black boots with rhinestones on them. The whole outfit cost me about $30 Canadian. It may be a little more bling than I would normally wear, but I didn't have to bargain to get the get the real price. The shop owners had seen me on T.V., they had heard my limited language skill, and they still viewed me as one of them.