Last night a group of us, becoming increasingly tired of Chinese food, attempted to cook an American(ish) feast. Anika's mom took us on the 30 minute drive to Metro, the international food store. We must have spent at least an hour in the store searching for cheddar cheese, butter, and brown sugar, three ingredients that are apparently very scarce in China. We finally made our way out successfully; we had purchased everything we needed (minus baking soda for cookies) all for a total of 800 yuan (a crazy amount to spend on groceries in China).
The hard time we had shopping was nothing compared to the even harder time we had with the actual cooking. For three hours the six of us, about half of which had never even cooked pasta, bustled around the kitchen, never without a knife/spoon/pot in our hands. After curdling the milk for our chicken-broccoli alfredo and nearly melting a pot in the oven, we were finished. Our efforts had resulted in: surprisingly good quesadillas (homemade tortillas!), rigatoni broccoli and chicken alfredo, apple crisp (really just apples with oatmeal and brown sugar mixed in-we had many difficulties), and oatmeal raisin cookies/globs. While maybe not the best looking food I've had, it certainly was American: messy, filling, and a much needed taste of home.

Our trip to Zhouzi this weekend was the perfect end to a weekend. Xi'an is a compilation of high-rise residential complexes and wide streets filled with crazy drivers. Coal burns throughout the city, creating a disturbing haze. I still haven't gotten used to the air here, and neither have my classmates, four of which are becoming increasingly ill. As we left the bubble that is Xi'an, the air seemed lighten, and the skies brightened. Being around mountains and lakes, even if only for a couple of hours, felt like a much needed retreat.

The town of Zhouzi is extremely small. There is one main street lined with stoors and food stands. As more and more stares came our way while my group of exchange students walked down the road, it became clear that some of the people around us had never seen foreigners before. The culture and ways of these people was so apparant in everything they were doing, vastly different from the industrial, westernized Xi'an. We even got a glimpse of twins! (a very rare thing in China)

My Host Family

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This past weekend we went to the rural Zhouzi No. 4 High School. A group of students from this school had been studying this past week at the Gao Xin School, and in an effort to integrate the three groups of students (Zhouzi, Gao Xin, and Brookline), we were all taken to the countryside for a visit. Surrounding the school was a town much different than Xi'an. The streets were lined with people selling food, playing mahjong, and fixing cars. Dirty faces peered at our group as we roamed the dusty roads, taking pictures of everything in sight. I wrote the following journal entry for Ms. Francescon about our trip.

As we made our way to the Zhouzi High School, it was clear that we were headed to a place far different from the city of Xi’an. The high rises that each of us goes home to at night slowly morphed into small houses, then into shacks with tin roofs. The sea of city-dwellers trickled into puddles of farmers working in moss-green grassy fields. Yet, surprisingly, as the quality of the houses worsened and the people became fewer, the scenery became more beautiful the further we ventured from our homes. In what seemed like an instant, towering mountains jumped from the pancake-flat land that is Xi’an, and the sun gave us a glimpse of its rays for the first time since our arrival. It seemed we had emerged from the haze and journeyed into territory unharmed by the yells and honks of the city.
In the midst of this astounding landscape lies the Zhouzi No. 4 High School. As I expected, it is not nearly as modern as Gao Xin. Where there are heaters and cafeterias at Gao Xin, there are small coal burners and outdoor pavilions without seating at Zhouzi. After reading the journals of the exchange students from last year, I expected that the Gao Xin kids would have an air of arrogance towards the poorer Zhouzi students. In my mind I pictured them walking through the school wearing their stark white uniform and sneers on their faces, disgusted by the dusty desks and unwashed chalk boards. I braced myself for the rude comments I would hear, but as I listened, I heard nothing of the sort. Besides the few baby wipes I saw being passed around, there was no sign that the Gao Xin kids didn’t feel comfortable in this completely different environment.
Standing in the top floor music room of the high school, I got a breath-taking view. The mountains that stood proudly before me seemed to spread like a blanket over the entire earth. Their power seemed endless- unstoppable. As amazing as they were, my eyes were focused on something else. Right in front of those incredible mountains, was another astounding sight. Below me was a field of blue and white uniforms, North-Face jackets, and hand made t-shirts. All woven together, it became hard to tell who was who, but this much was clear: all of us, the Gao Xin, Brookline High, and Zhouzi students had come together. Basketballs were being passed, kites were flying through the air, and hands were being held. The money, oceans, and city walls that separate us normally had vanished before my eyes. Our differences had been left behind with the high rises, and suddenly we were all the same.
Just before heading back onto our warm, cushioned seat-filled bus, we said goodbye to the Zhouzi students who had been attending Gao Xin high school the previous week. As I watched, I saw the Gao Xin and Zhouzi students embrace each other in some of the longest hugs I’ve witnessed. These embraces were followed by leaks of tears and down-turned mouths. Slowly, the Gao Xin students crept back into the bus, and were returned to a school filled with heaters and cafeterias.
The Gao Xin students have surprised me more than I could have imagined in the past week, first with their eagerness towards us, then with their acceptance of the poorer Zhouzi students. While our moment of togetherness was brief, and despite the fact that our differences will soon pull us apart, I’m glad to know that I have found the possibility of a friendship that can plow through the strength of boundaries.