Paper Cutting

Today is Wednesday, so it must be Chinese paper-cutting day. Do you remember back to your childhood, when you folded paper and then cut out a single figure, unfolded the paper, and discovered a series of figures holding hands? Chinese paper cutting works along those same principles, but can get quite complex. Our teacher does not speak any English, and I don't understand a thing he says. But he is excellent at drawing diagrams, showing the proper proportions, and helping us through the tough spots when we go astray. He is also an extremely capable paper cutter.

One of our Japanese classmates cuts hair for a living. You can imagine that he is usually the first one finished. As for the rest of us, some of us are proud of our productions and others feel that our scissors have been sent to earth to humble us. Hilda generally falls into the latter category, breaking into fits of laughter as she finishes an assignment that didn't turn out quite right.

This one is supposed to be a mushroom. Check out the seeds of the apple. For other classmates, the joy of proud parents shines through as they show off their newborns.

Enchanting Chanting

As the city breaks into its oppressive summer heat, I have taken to exploring the city in the morning before class begins. At 6:15 in the morning, there aren't many young people out yet. Some people board the bus fingering their prayer beads. Generally, groups of older people get off the bus at Wanshi Botanical Garden and Nanputuo Temple. Most of them are starting their day with prayer.

I get off at the gardens and find that I am almost immediately covered in a film of sweat. Since I have removed myself from the hustle and bustle of the city, I am unconcerned. I notice a woman walking backwards up the hill. I walk backwards with her for a while. As I get closer to the first temple, I hear a man give off a long, deep howl. Within five seconds, another howl comes booming from the distance. This is a long-distance call and response. It continues for about three or four minutes and then stops for a while, only to start up at unexpected intervals.

At this time of day, the gardens are serene.

One of its temples is full of women chanting, generally in unison, sometimes with prayer books, sometimes walking single file, at times with incense.

I have explored several routes up through the gardens over the mountain and descend to the Nanputuo Temple complex. As I climb over the top, there's a great view of Xiamen University. The calm evaporates slowly as I get closer. The Chinese tour groups have already arrived.

By about 8am, the Nanputuo monks have gathered for some morning chanting. They use bells and drums. All is well in the world. At about 8:40am, it is time to head out, cross the street to the University, and walk to class. By the time I arrive at our building, I am drenched in sweat, but this never-was-a-boy-scout is always prepared. I change into a dry shirt. Since the air conditioner is not yet running inside the classroom, it is more an ineffective gesture than anything else. The rest of the students are too polite to comment.