The Thing About America...

Let's assume you've been living under a rock for the past week and didn't hear the mega buzz surrounding my return home. Let's assume you weren't among the throngs of people freaking out at the idea of seeing me. To all you sad, probably uncool people: Tommy is back, ya'll.

Being back in the United States of America is, for better or for worse, exactly how I imagined it would be. Cable television is a delicious distraction. The food is an instant improvement. I've extended my "adjustment period" longer than one would consider necessary. Each old friend I see is cause for celebration. My living situation at home has thrusted me back into a world that includes petty squabbles with my parents, at least half of which are certainly my fault. Yet, living at home has also handed me forgotton blessings such as my laundry getting done and my dinners getting cooked. I find myself at the bottom of the same ladder I abandoned when I left for China. I have no direct plan for my future and find myself dipping my toes into too many tanks. And yet, no one can take away the absolutely amazing year I had in China. I now realize that my time there has had a very deep impact on me.

Like I said, nothing I didn't expect.

One thing I did not expect is that none of my stories and experiences seem to translate to those back home. Recently, there have been too many reunions to count. Of course, after a few minutes of "Oh my God, it's so good to see you!", people want to hear about my time in China. I tell stories that make me laugh. I tell tales that make my mouth hang open. Yet, I never seem to get the response that I feel I deserve...damnit. Could I be that bad of a storyteller? Do I need to utilize a thesaurus? Maybe. However, my guess is that the granduer and humor that I witnessed needs a proper context to grasp. You need to understand China's education system before you can understand classroom stories and if you want to understand how beautiful the mountains of Zhang Jia Jie are, well you need to stand on those cliffs yourself. I envy how easy it is to connect and relate to stories that involve friday night Kareoke and unfortuante after party hookups. I wish it was that simple. Then again, if it was that simple to understand, then it probably wouldn't have been what it was.

Here is something new and interesting. I tried standup comedy for the first time in my life. Last Monday I took a chance, went down to the Acme Comedy Club, put my name down on a list, and was telling jokes for 250 people shortly after. Let's see...it was terrifying, much harder than I thought, and I was surrounded by people who were much funnier than I thought they would be. I sort of arrogantly assumed that amature night would be filled with cheap Michael Jackson impersonations and hack blow job jokes, but I was wrong. There were some VERY funny men and women on that stage, much funnier than most of what I've seen on comedy central. I learned from people that night that Minneapolis is known for having some of the best comedy in the country and this particular club was known for having (hands down) the best comedy in Minneapolis. This was a good thing to hear. If you're going to be at the bottom, you might as well be at the bottom of the best around.

My sister came with me and actually videotaped my set. I was hesitant to let her come because I didn't want to bomb in front of anyone I knew. I actually wanted to keep it secret. In the end however, I was really happy that Erica came with me. She was very encouraging and provided some much needed evaluation after the show.

How did I do? In general, I think I did alright. For my first time, I think I did really well. I performed for three minutes, which is longer than you think. It's enough time for you to need a complete set of jokes, if that makes sense. More than anything, it was plenty of time to sweat if you weren't getting any laughs. Of the six jokes I told, I got two big laughs. This is not to say that people were falling out of their seats, but it did seem like everyone in the room was laughing audibly. The other jokes got laughs. They didn't bomb, but the laughs weren't that big.

This seems like a failure, but I don't think it was. There were a few other "first timers" and each of them bombed hard. The people who did really well were clearly seasoned amatures and even a few professionals. Also, I learned SO much during this single attempt. I learned what jokes to keep and what discard. I learned that no matter how funny I find the premise to be, if it doesn't have a good punchline it won't go over well.

Also, I learned that my sister might not be the best test subject for what can be considered funny. Actually, she and I agreed a lot on what we thought were my best jokes, but the ones we loves, the crowd did not. The jokes she did not like,in particular, were my two biggest laughs. It's pretty funny really; on the tape, when you hear a smattering of laughs from other people, you also hear my sister laughing hysterically. Maybe I should cater to the greater audience next time.

I was told by a few other comedians that I did quite well. Also, a few random people from the audience told me that they thought I was really funny. What can I say? I'm going back next Monday.

I dedicated two paragraphs to my feelings on being home and five paragraphs on my first time trying standup. You can tell what excites me at this time.

There is a question that looms over this post: what is to become of this blog? I might switch over to a new blog. At this moment, I'm not really sure what the blog is going to be dedicated to, but I'll let you know if I set it up. Would anyone read it? Eh, we'll see I guess. Keep checking China 1, Tommy 0 for updates.

You know what, it was a hard fought battle, but I think it all ended in a tie. China 1, Tommy 1.

Tommy

Strange Times

So what should I write about? Should I tell the tale of my journey home, one filled with anxiety and humor? Should I talk about how strange it is to be back in America, an ambiguous feeling that deserves pages of reflection? Do I muse on my reunification with friends and family, no doubt utilizing truckloads of sentiment?

Or, do I talk about that damn bridge.

For those of you who don't know, my family moved into a condo (don't call it an apartment or my Mom will cut you) in downtown Minneapolis. The new location made my homecoming an even more surreal experience. The transition from Chaska to Minneapolis would have been a dramatic move on its own accord, but after spending a year in China, it also helped shatter my notion of "home", something I longed for these past few months. It was all too much. There was too much change, too much to think about, and it was all happening too quickly.

And then the bridge collapsed.

The local news provided the first bit of information and live coverage was quick to follow. That's when my sister noticed rising smoke, not on television, but out the window. The bridge had collapsed no more than a quarter mile away from our condo and with a pair of binoculars, our view was as good as anything on TV. The road below became the central vein for emergency vehicles. First, police cars flew by, then ambulances, then firetrucks, then dive team vans. For some reason, seeing the dive team vehicles tear their way towards the scene of the crime was the first time that shivers worked their way down my body. The next time that happened was when my dad told me that since the family had moved downtown (2 weeks ago) he had incorperated the I-35 bridge into his daily morning run. Yes, he ran accross the bridge that morning. This sounds particularly chilling, but I have to wonder how many people have similar stories. I myself have crossed this bridge countless times.

Beyond that, my news coverage is just as good as your news coverage.

I suppose I'll put up a decent post discussing my journey home later.

Turst me, I want to see you. I have a new home phone number and no cell, so let me know how to contact you.

Thomas

Laos? Eh, why not?

The title says it all. I'm in Laos.

Why am I here? That's a fair question, no doubt. Will you accept "I don't know" as an acceptable answer? It was a strange combination of cheap travel, favorable reviews from other backpackers, and the ever effective "why not?" factor.

Ok, forget this. I need to type something NOW, because quite frankly, I need to address this situation myself. I'm currently at an internet cafe that has 8 children under the age of of 12. They are all watching Laotian You Tube and playing a game that I think has something to do with crop reports. They are screaming their heads off. Apparently a dancing horse on You Tube is the Laos equivilent to "Home Alone" and "Home Alone 2," the only two films that have ever elicited proportional excitement from me.

Also, there is a teenage boy, a single computer to my left, who is looking at hardcore, gay pornography and a middle aged man who is leering over his shoulder.

This may be a short post.

Laos is easily the most relaxing country I've been to in Asia. The population is low, the pressure to buy things is lax, and the frequency of people trying to screw you out of your money is next to none. Believe me, nothing pops blood vessels faster than finding out you paid four times as much for a travel package as did the guy sitting next to you on the bus. Not in Laos baby! Fixed prices are so, so sweet.

One Laotian place we visited was Vang Vihn, a backpackers haven. There are two things that seperate Vang Vihn from just about every other place in the world. First, it is a town that is situated on a river and the main attraction is a long and winding tube ride down that river. Every 100 meters or so, you'll find a "bar" that serves ice cold beer and gut wrenching hard liquor. To be honest, these "bars" were little more than makeshift platforms, though they often featured huge swings, or zip lines that catapulted you into the river. Inevitabely, you end up on the same movement schedule with other particular tubers and conversations are easily struck. I've said this many times before, but I am blown away at how easy it is to find friends in Asia. Everyone seems to be a single comment away from planning an entire evening around each other. Who was it this time around? Four Frenchies, four Irish lasses, and a English gal to boot!

I'm getting sidetracked. The SECOND thing that places Vang Vihn next to none is the fact that in town, away from the river, there are something like 20 cafes that only play episodes of "Friends". I'm going to let this point sink in for a bit. Now, I'm not saying that there are "Friends" episodes on in the background. No, no, no, each cafe is set up like a hippie movie theater, or an Opium den. You take off your shoes, climb up to your lofted bed, and snuggle up to one of the 30 pillows at your disposal. Huge and numerous screens make it impossible to not catch a glimpse of Joey's adorable face and bumping speakers make sure you don't miss a single joke. I'm not sure what it is about "Friends". It certainly has an international appeal, but I also have to assume that there was a major bandwagon situation after one cafe struck gold. To be fair, we were able to find one cafe that played non-stop "Simpsons" episodes.

Beyond that, bars, cafes, and even hostels close down at 11-11:30 in Laos. That sucks. It's also very surprising when you are kicked out after your second beer. Ah well. Just about everything else has been incredible. I'm truly loving life right now. It's exciting as ever and the big trip is yet to happen...coming home!

All right, this is ridiculous. The kids are now wrestling in the middle of the floor. I wish I was joking.

ifyousaywhatyouhavetoleaveacommenta;lkdj;lkfj;plkasjdf;lkasjd?

What?

Oh man, now you have to comment.

Tommy

Good Morning Vietnam!

Sorry, I couldn't help myself.

As I was saying...Hong Kong was fantastic. It felt like the city of a thousand cultures. There were Hong Kong natives, mainland China immigrants, tons of British ex-pats, a huge Indian population, plenty of people from the Middle East, and throngs of backpackers from every corner of the world. Ok, so maybe it was more like the city of 6 cultures, but it is impossible not to notice the international presence and its many influences on the city. For instance, it was Hong Kong where I first rode in a double decker bus and it was Hong Kong where I smoked at a very authentic, Persian, Hookah Bar (don't worry Mom, it was just flavored tobacco).

The bar scene in this busteling town is the best I've witnessed during my few years of bar experience. Entire sections of the city are soley dedicated to serving those who want to dance, sing, and drink well into the AM. This includes many places to catch a late night snack. After bragging to a particular American woman that I had spent the last year in Hunan, "the land of spicy food", she decided to order for me the spiciest Indian kebab that was available. I knew I was in trouble when a short man with a thick Punjabi accent laughed crazily as he fixed up my kebab. A small crowd of early morning party goers were priviliged enough to see me falling about like man on fire, tears pouring from my eyes, hiccups punching their way out of mouth, as I cursed the vile American woman for using my manly ego as a weapon against myself. My lips still burn at the mere thought of that satanic hoooooot pocket (shout out to the Sharkeys).

The one downside to this impromtu trip was how expensive Hong Kong turned out to be. You see, Phil and I brought money that was intended for Vietnam, a country you can transverse comfortably at 10-15 dollars a day. In Hong Kong, however, you'll be lucky if that kind of money covers a single taxi trip. So yes, Phil and I are running a little short on cash and have toned down our spending here in Vietnam. Yet, the memories that we created in Hong Kong are worth double what we paid. It's difficult to say more about Brent and Alex (Scotty and Irishy), but they will be very hard to forget.

Vietnam is a mind trip, no doubt about it. Much like India, the true beauty of Vietnam can be found on any street corner, not in some museum. As anyone will tell you, the vendors are intense here, but I've built up quite a tolerance for this kind of hassle. I have my "no thank you" routine down solid and have learned the very important lesson that a smile will get you MUCH farther in places like this than anger. The architecture in Hanoi is beautiful. Asian tradition blends with French balconies and rooftops. Also, one of the first things you'll hear someone talk about if they've been to Vietnam is the motorbike situation. They completely dominate the roads here. Everywhere you go, they swarm around you like...a swarm! It's an amazing image when you first arrive at a four way stop, not a single motorist obeying any traffic rules (should they exist), each playing their part in the intricate and improvised ballet that keeps these people from slamming into eachother.

I guess, above anything, Vietnam has been relaxing. As I've said before, Phil and I just don't have travelor's guilt that others might have. We don't feel the need to best utilize every minute of the day. We don't feel like we're wasting an oppertunity. We have no desire to try and capture the "real Vietnam". We're just enjoying ourselves and if that happens to include sleeping in late and spending most of the day meandering around the city, then so be it.

Okay suckas, keep me posted on how ya'll are doing and keep checking for more updates.

The person who leaves the best comment will win a bottle of my own sweat, perspired right here in VIETNAM! That's right. We're talking tropical sweat! All those who leave a comment that is not considered to be the best will win a "participant" trophy, which is actually a slightly smaller bottle of Vietnam sweat.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Chommy

That's Right, I'm In The Shit

Oh man, I've got to type this quick. I'm deep behind enemy lines and I think my position was just given away. I'm in Veitnam right now and Charlie is all over my ass.

This is basically the grand finale of my Asian experience. I am traveling around Vietnam and Cambodia for a little less than a month and then it's bon voyage chopsticks and hello cable telivision. When this trip is up, I will have traveled to Thailand, Vietnam, and Cambodia, not to mention exstensively around China. I tally these places up because it is my sincere hope that I did not waste my time and location while teaching here for a year. I am assuming that I will never again have the oppertunity to leap frog around Asia with such ease, so I gotta pack em' in.

Phil and I left for Vietnam six days ago. We had what was supposed to be a very brief layover in Hong Kong when we learned a very important lesson in internation travel. You see, when you travel to other countries, you need these things called "visas". Phil and I were aware of these so called visas, but somehow assume that we were exempt from such trivial formalities. We were denied entrance and felt very stupid. To be fair, almost every other country in Asia allows you to obtain your visa at that country's airport, but we definately should have checked ahead of time. So, after getting pulled out of line like suspected terrorists, we were forced to gain entry into Hong Kong and apply for a visa there.

Hong Kong has a very strange relationship with China. It is economically and politically independent, very much bucking mainland China in both these areas, but it technically (and militarily) is a part of the PRC. Still, it has its own currency and we needed to apply for entry like any other country. At first, I was very frusterated with the whole situation. I didn't know at the time that our visas for Vietnam were very easy to get and was worried that this factor would sink our entire trip. Also, I was under the assumption that our relatively expensive plane tickets just went down the crapper. However, as I stated before, the visa was very easy to get, taking no more than 3 days and virtually no effort on our part. Furthermore, our tickets somehow allowed us to change the date without a change to the cost. Amazing.

Hong Kong actually proved itself to be a wonderful mistake. Phil and I had a truly wonderful time. We instantly met up with an Irishman and a Scotsman. They were very tall, dashingly handsome, could drink till the pandas came home, and were each traveling around Asia by themselves. I bring up the first two qualities because they both also acted as great bait for pulling in groups of women.

Damn, the internet bar is kicking me out. More shall follow...

Tommy

A Very Different 'Birds and Bees'

My finals are completed. My students all did a very good job. That's not interesting. Let's talk about something interesting.

A few days ago, I was walking around a campus pond when I noticed two students of mine sitting on a bench. The student's names were Rim and Bri and they had been dating eachother for a few months now. I knew this because each class of mine has made sure to inform me (in a very public way) of any "in house" relationship that developed. They'd giggle and point, eager to embarrass their friends, but I also detected a certain level of respect given to both offenders. It was as if there existed a sense of class pride in the fact that two of their own had made such a connection. To put it simple, these students would become the "class couple", defining who they were as much as anything.

I approached the two for a quick meet and greet. However, after I said my hellos, it was obvious that something was wrong. "We are breaking up," Bri bluntly said, under no provocation. She seemed nervous and Rim seemed frusterated. I told them both that I was sorry to hear this piece of news. I then began to tell them that I was sure they wanted to be left alone and that I wouldn't bother them anymore. However, Rim interrupted me halfway through my polite goodbye. "She doesn't know what she is saying," he said. "She is not thinking right."

From that moment on, I was thrown into the role of Dr. Phil as Bri made her case for breaking up and Rim countered with reasons why that was a bad idea. In the few minutes it took for Bri to give her reasons for breaking up, I learned more about Chinese culture than anything else I had experienced in the past month or so. First and foremost, it was her father who expressed his displeasure in Rim. This is where it gets interesting, for you see, in the father's eyes, Rim was too short for Bri. Now, Rim is certainly not a tall boy, but you would be hesitant to call him short, especially in China. In fact, Rim was just about the same height as Bri, but that didn't seem to cut it. Up to this point, I knew that height was a very important thing here, but I had no idea that it could literally sink a budding relationship. Furthermore, Rim was too young. He was exactly 23 DAYS younger than Bri. By western standards, these two were the same age, but in China, this purely symbolic notion of age is a very serious thing. Bri's father apparently shuddered at the thought of his daughter marrying a younger man. Upon hearing the news, he threw a chair out the window (** creative liberties were taken for dramatic intent and are in no way accurate).

Rim kept asking me if these thing would matter in America, especially if two people were already in love, and I couldn't help but tell him that they would not. He gave a short speech on how these social rules didn't make any sense and that the older generation was forcing an outdated system on their children. I couldn't argue with him there, but I kept my mouth shut. Bri challenged that it was her father who initially wanted the relationship to end, but now she was also beginning to lose feelings for Rim. The boy flung his hands up in there air and said that this was lie. "You know, it's not as easy in China as it is in America, " Bri said. "We must do what our parents say, even if we don't always like it."

The talk lasted about a half hour and ended with me telling Rim that he must respect Bri's wishes. Sometimes I fool myself into thinking that China has become something that it has not. I hear my female students call out for equality, I see their notions of sex being influenced (or warped) by western media, but I have to remember to not get ahead of myself. One could take this small issue and potentionally relate it to much bigger issues. I've heard people speak of modernization and of democracy. However, when push comes to shove on these bigger issues, I wonder if China, much like Bri, will fall back on tradition and standard practice, proving the discussions I've heard to be little more than lip service. After all, I considered Bri to be one of my most progressive students, but that didn't seem to matter in the end. China has an interesting way of smoothing out the ruffles.

I am about to leave on a month long trip to Veitnam and Cambodia. Wish me luck and look for updates about my travels...if that's your thing.

Let me know if you still read this. I'm getting a tad lonely and I need some ummmffff.

After all, I will be home soon, so your rudeness will be punished shortly.

Tommy

My First Goodbye

Ladies and gentleman, classes are over. Tommy is no longer a teacher. Well, to be honest, we still have final exams ahead of us, but the english lessons are over. This really does feel like my first goodbye.

I feel much more sad than I expected. I have recently realized that my students have been the best part of my Chinese adventure. In fact, traveling all over Asia comes in a suprisingly distant second place, which is not to say that these travels have been anything short of amazing. It's just that the classroom has easily been my greatest motivator, entertainer, and teacher.

The emotional rollercoaster began during one of my final lessons. At the beginning of each class this term, I wrote down and explained a famous quote. In typical American fashion, I didn't necessarily explain the quote, but tried to facilitate the students' own discovery of the quote's meaning. The students did not like this. They wanted the answer and didn't trust their own insticts to provide it. I didn't stop though. Each morning I kept on urging my students to tell me if the question "How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man?" had an actual answer and whether or not "With great power comes great responsiblity." is a quote that can only be applied to superheroes like Spiderman. During my final week, I had each student return the favor by teaching me one of the quote's meaning.

When it comes to classroom activities, the vast majority of my class usually took the path of least resistance, so I fully expected almost all of my students to choose the easiest quote. Instead, however, the quote selection was an almost perfect distribution. Most students began their "lesson" by declaring that they had decided to teach me their favorite quote and (sniff) it seemed like they meant it. Not only did each student (yes, even the bad ones) do a fantastic job explaining their quote, but their explanations often strayed away from my own, showing an unmistakeable fingerprint of originality. You might as well call it: Moment I almost cried #1. It might be difficult for non-teachers to understand why this was such an important moment for me. I fucking did it! I got through to them. Months of uncertainty were washed away! Furthermore, I had conquered their Chinese hesitancy. I had opened their minds and I don't care in the least that I'm getting a bit carried away.

This exciting day was quickly followed by the final day classes. I started each class out by taking care of some housekeeping issues and marveled at the fact that it was I who was now using such an annoying teacher term. This was followed up by the most intense competition I had ever witnessed in the classroom: a paper airplane competition. This was my treat to them, as I knew they LOVED making paper airplanes. Every class exploded with excitement, laughter, and joy. The school moniter (sort of like my boss who has no direct control over me) stood outside and took notes. I don't think they considered this an acceptable use of our time, but at that point, I couldn't have cared less. This was my parting gift to my students and if someone didn't like it, well they'd have to give me a lecture quick because I was only a teacher for about three more hours.

For the rest of class, I had my students work on their final exam. While they were doing this, I walked around with my video camera and got every single student (280 or so) to give me a message that I could take back to America. Some students cried their goodbyes, others told me how cool I was, some sang songs into the camera, one did an amazing rendition of "Zombie" (Cranberries) using a broom as her guitar, all of them insisted that I never forget them and promised they'd do the same for me. I told them I wouldn't, which was true of course. I really won't forget those kids. It's the kind of video I can't wait to watch 5, 10, 20 years from now.

The entire day I was emotionally ripe, overwhelmed at how much these kids seemed to care about me. However, only one time did tears actually form. One of my best students, a very special girl, gave me a note and this is what it said:

Once upon a time, there was a travelor who traveled all over the world. One day, he passed by a deserted field which was full of little plants. He thought, "if only these poor little plants could be taken care of." At that moment he made a decision to be a gardener. From then on, day after day, he watered and fetilized the poor little, weeded them and even sang beautiful songs for them. These little plants had a very good time with their gardener and grew bigger and bigger, day by day, until one day they could shyly turn out their beautiful faces, each the same shape as butterflies, and also secretly gave off their sweet smell. The gardener was happy that the ever desolate field had taken on a new look. How colorful and aromatic!

However, all good things must come to an end. Seeing those well grown plants, the travellor thought that he had already completed his mission and it was time for him to say goodbye to those lovely plants. But you know, how reluctant those plants were to depart from their benefactor. They prayed day and night to stay together with that travellor forever. At last, thier love touched God and God bestowed a pair of wings upon each of those butterfly shaped flowers, enabling them to fly and travel with their benefactor. So from then on, the travellor was protected and blessed by his butterfly fairies and became the happiest man in the world.

At the end of class, the girl who wrote this story, Mary Mack, came to me and said she had a secret to tell me. She said, "you are the gardener" and ran out of the room. Men don't say they cried, men say they teared up. You can go on an extended international vaction, you can study abroad anywhere in the world, but it takes special circumstances to obtain moments like this.

That's all I have for you right now.

Thomas

**Note: I lightly edited the student's story for the convenience of reading. Even so, the quality of english that the original contained suggests that multiple hours were spent working on it. This, in my opinion, greatly adds to the gesture's significance.