Family Fun & the Fourth of July

Xiaoyu and I once had friends, and sometimes we still pretend like we do...but mostly we are found hanging out with each other and our family.
The other day we were able to spend some time with Pa at the Murray Park. We had heard from our sources (Sharon) that there was an Irish band playing at the park, but by the time we got there all the tin whistles had been put down, all the four leafed clovers had been retired, and all the leprechauns had left the building. We didn't let it phase us though, and we made use of our time just walking around the park grounds, remembering the time when I hit a seagull with an Easter egg and almost injured it for life, and having fun with Pa.We also had a fun time at Grampa & Grama Baugh's house celebrating the Fourth of July. The ceremonies began with Fernando, Pa, myself, and eventually Blake cutting...or attempting to cut down some branches on Grampa's tree with his newfangled "high limb cutter." Looks easy enough...and truth be told it wasn't really that hard. However, I must say that the above picture of an aged man (even with what seem to be pretty strong old man arms) effortlessly cutting down a ten-inch thick branch like he was slicing through butter with a hot knife is a little misleading. The hardest part was throwing the "throwing weight" right over the branch that you wanted. I got it stuck once, and although Fernando was almost sentenced to a monkey climb up 40 feet to go snag it, Blake finally dislodged by throwing a basketball up at it (my idea). All in all it turned out to be 2.5 hours of pure, uninterrupted, old fashion fun with the family.This is a picture of Miranda thoroughly enjoying her vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup and a cherry on top. I've never seen somebody enjoy something so much as she enjoyed those cherries.
Okay so I take that last statement back, because Miranda really seemed to enjoy her birthday party yesterday (except for the part when Pa took away the butterfly garden piece with the long sharp metal rod sticking out from its bottom, or when she got in trouble for telling me I wasn't very smart...which, yes, hurts coming from a 4 year old). She was so excited about her presents that Grampa Baugh asked if she was serious. I'm pretty sure she was. If she's anything like her mother, who I happen to know quite well, then she was dead serious. I think my favorite thing she said was, "Mom. Dad. It doesn't matter what this present is. I love it just because you gave it to me!" Who says that?! Who says that and actually means it?! Miranda...that's who.
Lucas had a great time too, and he loved being outside and around his family. When he wasn't eating or sleeping, he was talking and smiling. He had a good, long conversation with Fernando, and enjoyed listening to Miranda serenade him with her impromptu melodies (my favorite line, "Everyday, new faces. Everyday, the sun is there." That's Lucas' life to a T). Eventually, however, he partied a little too hard, and after an embarrassing episode involving too much bosom milk, some gas, and a messy diaper, he finally passed out. At least there is consolation in the fact that he never remembers what happened when he wakes up the next day.

Genius. We gotta get one.

Well, well...so we've been slacking a little lately. Its no big deal though, because nothing has really happened since our last post...except that our son Lucas 萧义博 Patrick Belnap was born. Just a minor detail really. Its not like having a baby changes anything. Life just goes on as it usually does, with just the addition of another person to enjoy it with. :)

NOT!!! PHSCY!!! Everything has changed! Messy diapers, baby wipes, breastfeeding, mastitis, car seats, Baby Bjorn, circumcision, swaddling, baby blues, messy diapers, Secrets of the Baby Whisperer, doctors visits, messy diapers, rectal temperature readings, sleepless nights, parainfluenza, and we can't forget messy diapers! AAAAhhhhhhhhhhh........!

So there is a pretty good verbal rendition of how we felt most of the time during the first, say, three weeks or so after the little man made his grand entrance. Now, however, I think it is safe to say that we have made some simple adjustments (basically just giving up on the idea that we will ever have our own lives ever again...forever...until we retire...or die...maybe) and are enjoying our new lives as parental units.
We like to think that Lucas is pretty happy with us too. He has his own special way of showing affection to those he loves. Mostly Lucas says "I love you" through the unifying act of urinating all over yourself, himself, and anything else in close proximity (usually the couch, the diaper you were just about to change him into, the sheets on the bed and your pillow, etc). Other than the Lucas fountain of love, he is also good at smiling to those he loves. Actually, KT stated that she thinks Lucas is a child prodigy...at smiling. We agree. Being Chinese, Xiaoyu of course hopes he becomes a piano prodigy as well, but we'll take smiling for now. Some pictures or a video here should provide ample evidence to the above claim:

Other than that life is actually pretty normal. I'm still working to heal the world, and make it a better place, for you and for me and the, entire human race...and Xiaoyu is holding down the fort. We're still here in Salt Lake County, and will be here until September...upon when we will be back off to Nanjing, China to finish up my schooling. So for those of you that are here in the States, come see us! And for those of you out in China, see ya soon!

(Notice General Sheng's reaction to Sam's sillynessess)

Ni Hao Yao!

(Please note the expression on Xiaoyu's face)

(Xiaoyu, Yao, & Uncle Mutombo...Best Friends Forever)

博爱中心 The Center of Charitable Love

Today I was able to sneak away from "the compound," and forget about myself for a couple hours. Bus 13 from right outside of our campus provided the escape, and dropped myself, Caleb (a friend from church), a couple Chinese friends from Nanjing University on another side of the city. After wandering through a maze of small, windy alleyways, we arrived at the door of a small 3 story building. It didn't look like much from the outside, but--as is so often the case--its true value was found within.

The 博爱中心 (bó ài zhōng xīn) or what I have translated as The Center of Charitable Love, was started in 2004 to provide specialized education and activities for those with various mental handicaps, and now has five locations throughout Nanjing. This specific location had what looked to me to be around 20 students, although I was told that a number of the students were off visiting the zoo.

When we first arrived, the doors were locked, and the metal gate chained shut. Soon, however, a very nice girl somewhere in her 20's came and let us in. I had expected the place to be packed, loud, and unavoidably messy. However, the first floor was empty, quite, and more in order than my own living quarters have ever been. We made our was up to the second floor, and saw that the students were split up into groups found within three different rooms; some were learning computer skills in the first room, a few were drawing in the second, and others in the third room were working on some handicrafts. Immediately, a cute girl with down syndrome came running out of a room and down the hall toward us. She was all smiles, and without the least bit of hesitation she put an arm around my waist and the waist of my friend next to me. It felt so nice to feel her love and be close to someone so pure. She almost stood on me she was so close, and it was so refreshing to be close to someone in such an embrace of innocent physical affection. To the world she is "handicapped," yet in her situation she was free to hug and hold hands with a complete stranger without any reservations as to race, culture, nationality, or sex. Between the two of us and our search for acceptance and love, who is truly handicapped?

As I think of her beaming face, I am reminded of the first down syndrome person I saw in China. He was barely clothed, dirty, a beggar, with a big smile on his sunburned face despite his humble situation and the mean looking man that seemed to be taking care of (or advantage of) his handicapped existence. I had always wondered what could be done to save others like him from such a fate, and was impressed at the answer given to me today from the clean, joyful, and carefully cared for friend with whom I shared my personal space.

One motto of the Center, is not to dwell upon their students disadvantages, but to accentuate and build upon their abilities. By doing so the students at the Center have learned to make beautifully intricate handicrafts. Since I could not do their crafts justice through any written description, I'll let a couple pictures do the talking.


Soon, other students were coming out and greeting us. Most were happy-go-lucky, some were extremely quite, and only one seemed to be a little more "cloudy" than the rest. After talking for a little while, we all moved downstairs, and the students sat at their appointed places around their desks. It was here that I realized there was only ONE teacher taking care of these 20 something special needs individuals (she was the nice girl in her 20's that had let us in). She controlled the class very well though. Unlike the soft and "friend-like" approach I had seen used in the States, she was very strict with the students, and did not tolerate too much rambunctiousness. Two years ago I might have thought she was being a little mean, but I now could see that she was expressing her care for her students by fulfilling her role as the teacher, which demanded her to correct them with sharpness rather than let them continue on in ways that would cause harm to themselves and the harmony of the class. The students also responded as the role of a loving student called for by obeying and respecting their teacher's orders. I was indeed impressed at how much mutual respect and love they had between themselves.

The funnest part was next, as all the students got to choose from the volunteers (there were about 15 students from Nanjing University already at the Center when we arrived) one person that would be their buddy when they went out to play. In turn, each would either yell out the name of a volunteer they had made friends with, or the more quite ones would just quickly jump out of their seats laughing, and grab the hand of their chosen partner. I was chosen quickly by an older (late 20's?), quite plump girl who jumped up and yelled "我要美国人！" or "I want the American!"
After they had lined up and sounded off at the door, their teacher yelled, "Ok students! Now what's the most important thing? You have to take care of your volunteer! They are your responsibility! You can't let anything happen to them! Got it?!" The students then yelled out in the affirmative, but we, the volunteers, all knew who she was really talking to.
We had fun playing outside with the students. We walked to a little park just down the street, and they all practiced hitting balls with their paddles (actually it is that Tai-Chi Ball thing that KT brought back from China), playing red light--green light, and just kind of letting loose. Some of the volunteers seemed clueless as to what they should be doing, while others were having a great time letting loose themselves. My buddy was always smiling, although she didn't have the motor skills or the attention span to hit the ball. Ha! It was actually sort of fun, because she would get all concentrated at throwing the ball up, but when she finally succeeded, she immediately looked over at someone else playing another game, and by the time the ball had come down she was already long gone. She was also probably the most positive person I have ever met. About 93% of all her sentences started with the words "我喜欢。。。” or "I like..." "I like you!" "I like that other volunteer!" "I like hitting this ball!" "I like red light--green light!" That last one was said as she was walking away from my attempt at getting her to actually PLAY red light--green light.
After about an hour of that, it was time to go back. Again we all lined up, and slowly caterpillar-ed our way back to the Center. It was funner on the way back though because they were all singing a popular song about a beautiful girl, but when the part came to sing the girls name, they would switch in each others names, to which everyone would laugh, and the person whose name had been switched in would get a little embarrassed and giggle.
When we had to leave they were a little sad to see us go, but they all asked us to come back soon. I was the last one out of the room, and one of the students in the back yelled out "GOOD MORNING!" At some point they must have all been taught that one word, because everyone got the "oh yeah! I remember that! I can say that too!" look on their faces, and everyone started yelling "GOOD MORNING! BYE BYE!" as I shook their hands and walked out of the room.
My favorite part of the whole experience though, was seeing the parents of the students waiting for them outside of the Center's doors. From their voiceless expressions, you could see how happy they were that their child's happiness was not being ignored, but instead that their child was making friends and touching lives . . . something they probably never thought possible when they first discovered their child's complications. I wanted to go up and shake the hands of each and ever parent, and tell them how amazing they were; both them AND their children. I wanted to let them know that there was much more to their child than we could see with our limited mortal vision. Instead, I practiced patience and faith, and prayed that somehow they would know, or be able to feel that message anyway.

This Is My Life

The S.S. HNC / Nanjing Botanical Gardens

It was nice to finally take a breather and get off of what I call the S.S. HNC (Hopkins-Nanjing Center). It has thus been dubbed because I have found it in many respects to be similar to a cruise ship. Here's a quick explanation that will make sense if you have been on a cruise. First off, everything that is needed for living is on board, saving you from having to go off the ship. This doesn't mean that everything you want is on board, it just means that everything you need (living quarters, food, entertainment, sports, etc) is there. At first everyone is on cloud nine eating all the good food, playing the games they have, and doing what they came to do. Eventually, however, you start seeing the rotation of things going on: pancakes every Tue. and Fri., B-ball every Wed. afternoon, karaoke every Fri. night, and so on. Around this time you need to get off the ship, but the ship is moving, and you will get left behind if you don't wait until it docks to get off. In the case of the S.S. HNC, it is the academics/homeywork/papers that just keep on coming, and it is a dangerous move to get off the ship or out of the library.

Every once in a while though, you are able to stop the boat, and get your land legs back for a bit. Today I chose the quiet and well kept Nanjing Botanical Gardens. It was great to finally be able to look up! (I have realized how much time I spend looking down since coming out here, and it is kind of crazy. I look down to eat obviously, as well as read my books. However, because I am a bit taller than most of my colleagues, I have to look down when talking to them too. I have actually gotten a crick in my neck before as a result of it, and I am convinced that my vocal cords are shrinking because my head is always tilting forward pushes down my adam's apple--which is making my voice higher by the day.) The way the bamboo trees curved at the top to rest on the branches of a large maple tree was quite a sight . . . of course only for true geeks like yours truly. In fact, I even tried climbing up between two large bamboo trees like they do on kung fu movies. After getting down I figured that it was probably the most nerdy thing I've done in a very long while . . . and I don't know why I am even writing it down right now.
There was an amazing bonsai exhibit, with trees that have been passed down for literally hundreds of years. I made friends with one of their care takers. It has always been on of my dreams to work in a place like that; every day wake up, water some bonsai here, bend a twig there, prune some roots here, practice being an idiot by climbing up some bamboo there. I asked him how he liked working there, and he said, "Working here . . . life is tough. The pay is not good." Turns out he only gets paid 1000 RMB a month ($150), which would explain his humble appearance. I still think something is wrong when someone caring for living artifacts like that is getting paid so little.
I had a good time off the ship though, and should be able to keep my sanity on board now for another week. Here are some pics I took. Enjoy!

Happy Birthday

Although I feel a great importance to search out any and every opportunity to celebrate in this life, and although a birthday is one of those occasions, for certain reasons my last two B-days have been . . . well . . . unique.
Last year, Xiaoyu and KT had to dance practice for the Christmas With the Mormon Tabernacle Choir concert. Mom had to go to a Young Women's activity . . . where she broke her ankle and basically stole the spotlight from your's truly! (yeah, she's sneaky like that). I think Dad was on the computer doing some work. And I was locked up alone in the attic where I sang "I have a castle on a cloud" basically for the majority of the night.
This year was a lot better though. This year I got to do what I had always dreamed of doing for my birthday ever since I was a little kid: complete a 2,500 character (Chinese that is) long essay on the complications found within China's social strata that were brought about by the last 20 years of economic reform. Again, like last year, Xiaoyu wasn't able to be with me, although she made sure to call me numerous times and make sure I was having a good time . . . writing my essay. Actually she gave me the best possible gift I could have asked for that night, when she helped me correct my paper. She told me once that it was my birthday so I had to go buy a little cake and a candle. But the thought of me sitting in some little bread shop or in my room singing happy birthday to myself and blowing out a candle sounded basically like the most depressing thing I could think of. So I didn't.
Actually, although it sounds like I am really down about that fact that my last two birthdays have been very "special," I really have nothing to complain about. When I think about it, I have been given way more than I ever could have wanted. I could tell that Xiaoyu felt bad she couldn't be there with me, and was a little worried about me being sad during my birthday. However, even though of course I would love to be surrounded by family and friends during such an occasion, how could I be sad when I know that any separation during this life I experience with my family is only temporary. When all is said and done, the time will come that Xiaoyu and I will never have to be apart, neither will we have to be apart from the ones we love. No gift could be greater than that (no Fernando, not even that blender you've always wanted). So how could a birthday alone affect my attitude?! The thought of it is kind of ridiculous if you think about it.
That being said, I'm predicting that my B-day next year is going to be PANDA-MONIUM! Until then . . . happy birthday to me.

Its that time of year.

Halloween in China? You best be believin' it! I have proof!

Had to see it to believe it eh? Well here it is. The Halloween section of a Target-like store here in Nanjing. And although it isn't big, it does still do a good job of representing arguably the funnest holiday around. I'm sure there are many who have no idea what this little section is even about, and those who do celebrate Halloween do not actually trick-or-treat. Too bad.


This is a scary looking insect. Scary insect . . . Halloween . . . yes they do go together.



This is a better shot of its totally sweetnesses legs!


And, of course, a guy selling hand spun cotton candy. Candy . . . Halloween . . . yes. And also I thought that you would all like to see how read-deal-holyfield cotton candy is made. Watch and learn . . . and then watch again . . . and then realize that no I didn't take a video of him actually making cotton candy because it cost 3 RMB which I didn't have. But I did have 2 RMB which I gave him for being nice and letting me take the video.
So while Halloween might not be what it is back in the States, it still has its own Chinese style charm . . . if you know where to look for it.

The Beautiful Benefits of Being a Brother.

I just finished reading my sister Sharon's latest blog about how her son Sammy is all about whacking his older sister with various objects upon the head. It reminded me of some of the good ol' times when we were young, and when I could still make my sisters cry without feeling too guilty.
I actually don't think that I even inflicted a large amount of physical pain on either of my sisters. This is probably due to a couple reasons; physical abuse left marks and thus hard evidence, my little sister KT--although small--was quite dangerous when it came to hand-to-hand combat (i.e. the "sink my long fingernails into the flesh of your arm while gritting my teeth and bombarding you with an almost unholy evil stare" technique), and probably the biggest reason was that it was just too base a platform from which one can perform truly devious life-scaring deeds.
I think two examples should suffice. During our younger years (teen), my older sister and I did not spend the majority of our leisure time playing together. However, that did not mean that we didn't love each other, nor did it mean that she was exempt from my boredom-bred offensives. One of my assailments into her constant and otherwise sheltered boarders began when she received a heavenly down comforter for either Christmas or her birthday. She always got that kind of stuff as presents, and although her gifts were always utterly boring by nature, I was often able to find a much more exciting use . . . if the situation called for it.
During this time, for some reason I was really into the ability to move throughout the house and within the close vicinity of people without being detected. Naturally, at the completion of sneaking up behind someone while they are on the computer or underneath the kitchen table while they are eating or reading the news paper, the next natural step is to . . . well . . . for the lack of a better term . . . scare the crap out of them. For those of you who have tried this, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Eventually, my skills were becoming so finely tuned, that an even greater challenge was needed to test my real ninja-like potential. Sharon's down comforter provided the challenge.
At first, it seemed like each night, before going to sleep in her cloud of a bed, she would fluff up her comforter before gently laying back on it. But slowly she ended that ritual, and after reading her scriptures and saying her prayers, would just hit the hay and call it a night. After a couple nights of becoming familiar with the layout, and taking mental notes of her nightly routine, I made my move. While Sharon was in the bathroom getting ready for bed (approx. 15-20 min.) I snuck into her room, being careful not to disturb anything or leave any visible traces of my presence, and slid myself between the top of the mattress and the down comforter. I then shook my body in rapid succession, thus bringing the surface of the comforter to a more even plain, and made sure to leave a slight crease from which (as my head was resting sideways facing toward the nightstand) I could see out into the room. Then all I had to do was wait.
While waiting, it did occur to me that I could get in trouble for what I was about to do, and that it probably wouldn't make Sharon too incredibly happy, but any drawback was totally overshadowed by my curiosity. Could I actually pull it off? If I did, how would she react? Has anyone in the history of man ever been so skilled in their sneaking/scaring abilities?
When she came back into the room, it was almost too much not just to jump out and expose my hiding spot. However, I refrained, and even managed to keep completely still and silent as she read her scriptures and prayed right next to the side of the bed where I was laying. Now this comforter was not to be slept under, but to be slept upon. So it had originally been my plan to wait until she actually laid down before I scared the living daylights out of her. But as she got up from praying and began to pull back her blanket to climb into bed, I made the quick decision that doing so might actually scar her for life . . . and I refrained. Right before she started the movement to get into bed, I burst out in an awesome array of yelling, flailing my arms and legs, and (of course) laughing my head off. I know that most of you think that I am a horrible person by now, which I can totally understand, but even now as I am writing this here some 15 years later, I still can't help but laugh out loud like a gitty school boy when I think back on it. It was, in my book, the perfect scare. The only problem, was that it was too perfect. It actually made Sharon cry (should have thought of that one), and dad told me that if I ever scared anyone again that he would scare me. Truthfully, although I would like to say that it was Sharon's tears that touched my heart and ended my frightening antics, but that wouldn't be completely true. Dad had never scared anyone on purpose that I had known of, and the fact that I couldn't even draw up a mental image of what that would be like disturbed my stealthiness into a standstill. That isn't to say that I never scared anyone again after that, but I was definitely more careful about who, when, and how I did.

Again, although scaring my sisters is probably not the only trick up my sleeve, it is probably the best. For some reason, my once eccentric little sister Katie was always scared of the basement in our Orem house. She hated going down there, especially by herself, and even more so if the lights were off (you had to enter the dark before you got to the light switch and turned on the lights, and when it the lights were off down there, it was DARK.) On a certain occasion, mom and dad had to leave for some reason, leaving Sharon in charge of Katie and I. Whereas Sharon and I weren't always spending the majority of our time together, Katie and I were almost always either playing together or bugging each other. And while Katie is more reserved and laid back today, you wouldn't have believed it possible with the fiery attitude that once embodied so much about her (although I love the grown up KT, sometimes I do hope that the younger "I will freak out, throw a fit, and get you" KT would resurface . . . if not just every once in a while). She was the cutest little sister an older brother ever had, and our relationship was one of love and loving to bug and be bugged. I obviously did the bugging, but I think KT will agree that for some odd reason she often "asked" to be bugged.


At the very least, she knew me well enough that she knew well in advance what I was going to do, and more often than not, there was no way for her to avoid it.
This instance (which occurred some time around, but before the above "down comforter" incident) was no different. Sharon was in charge, and she asked KT to go downstairs and grab something. KT immediately opposed, but for some reason it needed to be KT to get it. Knowing her brother, she complained to Sharon that I was going to somehow scare her when she went down there. Sharon told her that I wouldn't (Sharon obviously had more faith in me that she should have), but KT was sure I would. (I should stop here to say that I can't remember if at that time I had really thought to scare KT or not. In all actuality, it could have been KT's bringing up the topic of me scaring her that actually caused me to do so!) Sharon insisted that I wouldn't but still made me promise, out loud, that I would not scare KT when she went downstairs, and then she even offered to go down there with her. I don't think that satisfied KT, but she had no more excuses to go.
In our Orem house, there was an intercom system with speakers in almost every room of the house (which is such a ridiculous and lazy thing now that I think about it. But anyway). It was an old system that had been put in way before we had been there, and each time you pressed down on the "talk" button it would give a quick and loud "pkhhh" sound. I can't tell you how many times mom or dad or whomever inadvertently scared the pants of whoever was in the basement. You'd be watching a scary movie, and then all of the sudden "pkhhh! Patrick can you come up stairs for a second?" Oh man. Or you are just thinking or doing something quietly when "pkhhh! Katie Winnerholm your mom just called and says that you need to go home."
After they had both descended into the dark abyss of our basement, my promise and all my normal thought processes stopped, and all I could think of was "Intercom! KT! Screaming!" Without too much hesitance I walked over to the intercom, pressed, and the next 10 seconds went a little something like this, (in my best deep devilish voice) "pkhhh! KATIEEEEEE!!!! AAHAAHHHKATIE! BLAHHHAH (and so on)!" then the highest/loudest little girl scream, "AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" and finally Sharon's voice, "PAAATRIIIICK!!!!" That one, I think, really did scar KT for life. However afraid she was of the Orem house basement before, it has magnified at least 2 bizzagillion fold.


Oh the good ol' days. Sadly enough for some reason its not the same when I scared Xiaoyu (I say scared because up til now its only happened once, for good reasons), and I am afraid to say that for the most part I am past my prime. My only hope now is in my nephew Sammy and my own future offspring, who I'm sure will not let this old timer down.

Tweed

I just took about the last 20 minutes writing about how much I like this graduate program I'm in right now and how much I'm learning . . . and then I realized that it would probably be the most boring thing in the world to read . . . unless, of course, you are a super-geek like myself (Sharon?).
However, I thought I would post something that one of my geekafied (Princeton, Harvard, the whole works), but very good British professors put up on his Facebook page. I thought my dad might like it. (When you read it, it might also help to imagine it being read in the British/Haaaarvard accent.)
From the Introductory Address to the 61st Annual Tweed Conference, Cheltenham, England (June 2004):
"Not only by donning a tweed item does one wrap oneself in a delightfully variegated weave (whose very structure seems to embody an inclusive, multicultural agenda), but one also enters a long and noble genealogy of the fine material and its judicious wearers. Even a simple and commonplace tweed can become a nexus upon which quotations of human excellence collide and vibrate. Wearing Nike may at best connect you to the likes of Michael Jordan, or Adidas to David Beckham, but usually it simply renders you visually complicit with big business. Choice of Denim or Gap simply homogenises you, while suits and ties ultimately bind you, slave-like, to your profession. Tweed is different. It is the antithesis of homogeneity and the beacon of heterogeneity - the champion of rugged individuality and the woven-material messiah. It is astoundingly versatile; equally comfortable in rural retreats, hip urban parties, university campuses and increasingly, many offices too. Moreover, if one binds oneself to any demographic by its wearing, it is to a league of the greatest achievers of human history: to Jacques Derrida, Ludwig Wittgenstein, Albert Einstein, Sherlock Holmes, Charles Darwin, James Joyce, and many, many other wearers. Why, Plato was even reported to own a tweed toga!
For all owners of this illustrious fabric, we congratulate you. For all those without it, take the plunge and let yourself BE FREED BY YOUR TWEED."

Question of the day.

How did this happen? Is it broken or not? If you can answer these two questions correctly, then you win the prize. If you at least try, you win a prize. If you leave any sort of comment . . . you win a prize. If you don't even read our blog anymore . . . you win a knuckle sandwich and a hurts donut.

"Xiaoyu gloating," and "Good ol' China."

Quick update on our lives: Right now we are living in Nanjing (directly translated as "Southern Capital") where I am participating in the Masters of Arts in International Studies program at the Johns Hopkins University SAIS--Nanjing University Center. We'll be here for two years, which is the duration of the program. Nanjing is a nice place, about 2 hours west of Shanghai along the Yangtze River, and about a 16 hour train ride away from Xiaoyu's hometown of Xi'an.

Well I thought we could take a break in between introducing Xiaoyu's family, and watch some movies!
These first two may be boring if you don't know Xiaoyu, but may be pretty funny if you do. And . . . yes . . . Xiaoyu did take these clip for the sole purpose of gloating about China's domination of the gold medal count during the 2008 Beijing Olympics.
(the song she sings in this first one is the Chiense national anthem)



This next one is basically the same idea, except she does some cool sound effects which is always good.



This next one is just one of the many, many reasons I love China.



Finally . . . its always nice to see close families. And what could be "closer" than a daughter giving her elderly mother a piggy back?

Take some time to meet the family.

Xiaoyu’s family is made up of some of the most interesting, kind, funny, and considerate people I have ever met. Lets take the next couple blogs to introduce ourselves to some of them shall we?

Xiaoyu’s mother, Xiao Ju Li:
In her 50’s, she is constantly being pestered by scientist from around the world all hoping for a chance to study how much energy can be contained in such a small being. I mean, literally this lady wears out anyone who dares to try to keep up with her. As a matter of fact, it can be quite taxing just to be around her sometimes when she is “going” . . . which is basically all the time.
I’m not sure either where she gets her energy from, but I have my theories. Maybe its because she eats well, and exercises. Although her financial situation hasn’t ever allowed her to eat like a queen, she tells me that she has always “eaten well” (meaning that she will only eat clean, healthy food). In fact, supposedly now if she eats something below her standards, she claims to have stomach problems. I can remember when she came home from work one day bragging about how all her workmates thought her stomach was so spoiled because she had to eat better than they did.

Her energy could also be the result of never really having the chance to slow down. I haven’t been able to get her to put it down in writing yet, but parts of her history have been given to me—when the situation calls for it—and I have tried my best to piece things together. Here is the little I have gathered. She is the oldest daughter in a family of six children. She has one older brother, but for those familiar with Chinese familial relationships you know how the mother spoils the oldest boy (as it “should” be his responsibility to take care of the parents as they grow old). This left the family’s first female, my mother-in-law with a daunting amount of responsibilities. My mother-in-law obviously took the responsibilities with style.

From what I can gather she was also a good student. She attended medical school, during which (or after? This is where things get a little blurry) she was sent off to the countryside to receive her “rural education,” as stipulated by Chairman Mao at that time for all “city dwellers.” She was also to teach the farmers about, and help enforce the newly formed One Child policy. I won’t get too much into this time of her life now, but this very well could have been the point at which she gained her familiarity with a superhuman work ethic. I enjoy Xiaoyu’s mom relaying stories from this era to me the best, as they usually involve angry individuals or families chasing after her with kitchen knifes (people are often quite angry when told that they are only allowed one child per family), or surgical operations in extreme situations for unbelievably long periods of time (30+ hours), with only a hard boiled egg shoved into your mouth every so often to work off of. For someone who lived like this for years on end, yeah, maybe things that make us all tired like a 9 to 5 work day, mopping the floor, or making some zha jiang noodles don’t really faze her. If that’s not enough, add in the fact that for a large part of her marriage (and Xiaoyu’s life) she was the breadwinner for the family, and that after her husband divorced her she had to start from zero, and provide for herself while also providing for her child’s education; a feat that not every husband and wife’s salary together can accomplish in modern China.

Finally, the only other possibility I can think of, is that she has some sort of mutant ability to sleep so soundly that when she wakes up she is completely recharged. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it, but I think this woman can literally sleep through anything. What is amazing, is not only how soundly she sleeps, but the speed at which she cruises off to dream land. Xiaoyu and I will be watching some movie on the TV located directly outside her room, and only about 4 feet away from her head, and she will say, “I’m going to sleep.” So I turn the TV down, and Xiaoyu says, “Don’t worry, it won’t wake her up.” Wake her up? How could it wake her up if she isn’t even aslee . . . and then I hear the heavy breathing of someone in deep (and I mean like Deep Space 9 deep) sleep. At 2 o’clock in the middle of the night, twenty tons of coal is slammed into the coal yard right outside our window by a large and loud frontloader. Xiaoyu and I can’t sleep a wink, while Xiaoyu’s mom claims to have no idea the next day of what sounded like us to be a backyard Armageddon. Amazing? Yes. Result of mutant powers? Most likely.

Of course there are many other amazing and awe-inspiring aspects of the wonderful person who we both call “ma,” and we could go on and on about how cool she is, however, we don’t want to be accused of bragging. I guess it’s like Confucius said though, “It’s not bragging if you can back it up!” Or . . . was that Muhammad Ali?

If pictures say a thousand words, then movies . . .?

Movies from the cell phone. Classic . . . class . . . ic!

Xiaoyu was either playing an advanced form of DDR, or she's just crazy . . . or both.

Shanghai, Pudong

One World, One Dream.

If some geeky guy on TV—dressed in a tacky blue suit, a 2.3 mile comb-over covering his large noggin, and pair of thick coke bottle glasses resting on his overgrown nose—said, “According to the calculations performed by myself and my esteemed colleagues at Haaaaarvard . . . it can be concluded that the Beijing Olympic Summer Games of 2008 has affected more lives than any other Olympic Games held before it.” I would believe him in a second. It sure has affected our lives.

Among other ways in which it has affected us, and the most cutting and hard to bear of all ways, is that we are so often reminded of the family we left behind back in the U.S. of A. Some ways in which they are connected with the Olympics are completely expected; we are watching the opening ceremony, and we think, Pa would really like this part, Sharon would love that thing, Fernando would be so excited to see that, Mom would enjoy that, KT would miss China when she saw that, Miranda would actually sit still through that part, Sammy . . . man we miss Sambo! Other ways that they are connect don’t make any sense except for in the twisted mind of Xiaoyu Fan Belnap; we are walking through a 7 story Super Mall where, on the first floor, around 100 crazy Chinese sports fans are watching the heavyweight Judo Competition between China and some other country that is not China. The two competitors are so big they look more like monsters than men . . . well . . . actually women. China wins, the crowd screams, and a middle-aged woman sheds tears of joy. Xiaoyu and I have no real reaction to the victory, mostly because we are still surprised that Chinese people can be grown that gynormous. The victor’s stats are thrown up on the screen, and Xiaoyu looks up at me with the big eyes of unbelief. “130 kilograms!!!” Since the measurement of “kilograms” means nothing to my U.S. raised brain, I bust out my trusty cell phone, go straight to the “converter” application, and convert, convert, convert. The results are in: 130 kg = 286.5967 pounds!!! That’s a big Chinese lady. Then, for some reason, in an attempt to explain to Xiaoyu how big that really is, I say, “That is like . . . way bigger that Pa!” (As if the rock solid and totally in shape/handsome/coolest daddy-O in the world is his own separate unit of measurement.) We both look over to the huge screen as a full body shot of the victorious victor fills the screen. Xiaoyu looks back at me with another set of big eyes. Not the big eyes of unbelief, but the big eyes of “that was a total understatement, and now I’m going to set the record straight” that only those who know her best have seen. And with those eyes come the statement, “Pa?! Her boobs alone equal the size of Pa!” An odd comment? Yes. A true statement? Yes. A called for statement? Maybe. A round about expression of how much Xiaoyu misses Pa? Mos Defnily!

So, to better illustrate why we be missin’ them much . . . here are some classic Kodak moments from our life back at home (and some new ones just for kicks).

The girls bringing back goodies from the grosheriey store.

This is what happens when you have Xiaoyu and Patrick watch your kids.

Me and the little geek.

Probably the happiest day of Xiaoyu's life.

Geeks.

Xiaoyu and her new hairdoo!

Life is like a box of . . . white elephants.

For Forest Gump, life was like a box of chocolates. For Xiaoyu and I, I think it is more like a white elephant gift. At least with a box of chocolates you know that you are going to be eating . . . well . . . chocolate. Our lives have gone far beyond the realm of milk, dark, or even flavored chocolates; far beyond mint, cherry, or even coconut fillings. Instead, whenever we are presented with the gift of change, upon opening the wrapping we could expect to find apple pie just as well as finding a pig’s foot, a pop can just as well as M.C. Hammer, or a washing machine just as well as a . . . white elephant. If you are familiar with our lives together, then you already know this. If you don’t, and if we actually keep up on this blog, hopefully you will come to understand what we mean.
Since being married in May 2006 up until moving back to the States in June 2007 we hadn’t lived in the same place for longer than around two months. Our year in America, however, was relatively calm. I was happy to be back “home,” and Xiaoyu was more than happy to be part of our “big” family. And just when we were getting used to things, our addiction to opening another white elephant package of action led us down another road back to China.
Enter graduate school stage right. Originally the plan was to drop out of school, I would open up my Hmong eggroll mobile, Xiaoyu would use her experience as a kungfu/ninja/samurai master to teach elementary P.E., and we would live out the rest of our days peacefully in a tent up in Rock Canyon. However, we decided that it would be too selfish to keep all of our many other talents (such as doing thumb pushups, getting A++ on Dance Dance Revolution, etc.) hidden from the rest of the world. So in order to make our mark on the world, and because we wanted to know what it feels like to be totally submerged in debt over our heads, we thought it wise for me to apply to a graduate school. Yes, just one graduate school: Johns Hopkins University. Luckily I was accepted (although had I not been, there was still eggrollin’ and P.E. teachin’). However, instead of studying in Boston, or even Washington D.C., I will be working on a M.A. in International Studies at Johns Hopkins Nanjing, China campus. That means that although we will still be up to it in D E to the B and the T, room and board is much cheaper (YEAH!!!); however, it also means that all but one class a semester will be totally in Chinese (EH?). I’m not worried though, because I have a secret weapon . . . Xiaoyu! So if I have a tough test or something, because we look so alike I can just have her go in and take it for me!
Before our two years in Nanjing though, we were able to end our time in the U.S. with a bang! Think of this: almost two weeks time, one Subaru Outback, five-tons of luggage, one case of CD’s, one Hunnington Beach, one Sea World, one Raging Waters, one crazy Belnap/Seminario BBQ, and about 2,032,238,685,331,048,349.9834 unforgettable memories. Nothing like good times to make you even sadder when they have to end for a while.
Only one thing was missing from the above equation, and one of the most important reasons for us to get up and out of town, was because little sis. Katie (aka The Life of the Party, aka Chobble Wop, aka Sherry Waters) was already in Chinaland with BYU’s Dance Study Abroad group. Yet when we found her the dance group had already gone, leaving KT along and helpless in a Beijing’s Jing Shan park to fend for herself. It took us three days before we convinced her that she wasn’t a 75 year old Chinese woman, and even up ‘til yesterday before we sent her back to Utah we found her fan-dancing, practicing tai chi, and (most disturbing) slapping her belly and yelling randomly into the air. We had a great time with her here, and we are realizing how much fun she added into our boring lives now that she has gone back. But as the ancient Chinese proverb states, “I believe I can fly. I believe I can touch the sky. Think about it every night and day. Spread my wings and fly away.” And so we had to let KT move on with her life, and away from our protective embrace. But we will forever keep with us the fond memories of our trip to Pingyao’s bodyguard training grounds, our hike up Shan Nan’s beautiful mountains, and our many walks down Stinky Stealth Street.



--As usually happens, upon trying to save the completed version of this entry, Word 2008 just shut down. Luckily whoever made this version of Word knew that there would be this problem, and updated the auto-recovery application. So not all is lost. What did you miss out on? A paragraph on what we are doing right now (I am doing consulting work for a hospital as well as some PR work for a steakhouse here in Shanghai). About a paragraph on how Xiaoyu and I miss everyone in the States, as well as our mother in back in Xi’an (who just texted Xiaoyu and told her to buy some new shoes that she saw on TV that look like sports shoes, but make you a couple inches taller and make your legs seem longer). And then one last paragraph that was my weak attempt at adding some meaning to this otherwise transient entry. But you didn’t really want to read all that anyway . . . so here are some pictures!