PUDONG, Monday, October 26: My alarm went off at 5 a.m. I bounced out of bed, scurried around throwing stuff in my packs—one da, one xiao. I was ready to go at 5:45 a.m. so decided to leave. It was a mistake, as I got to Hongqiao Airport at 6:14am, 45 minutes ahead of schedule. I had embarked on my first — maybe my last, who knows? — China Alive trip. A last minute e-mail from Yvonne Zhu, China Alive coordinator, had inquired as to my availability to make the trip. After checking with superiors, I said, “Yes,” and now here I was — about to spend a week 24/7 (and I do mean 24/7) with over 40 teenagers. When was the last time I had ever done that? Like, never.

Soon I met my chaperone colleagues: Trip leader Holly Lin, Jan Murphy, Shanti Vandijk, Ellen Levenhagen, Warren Michel, and the medical guy, Danile Dela Cruz whom I called Dr. Dan. Lily Zhang from Real Travel showed up to help us expedite the boarding process and soon the students began to arrive and fortunately everyone in my group had their passports with them.

I should mention the young men for whom I was responsible as they deserve special recognition for putting up with me all week, but I am happy to report that I brought them all back home alive, safe and sound: Gabriel Zijie Cao, Jung Soo Choi, Hyun Jun Jo, Joshua J. Lu, Jonathan Liu, Raymond Song, Dennis Yue, and Nicholas Lok Ch Tsui.

This China Alive trip had as its destination Yunnan province where we’d spend most of our time in and around Dali, with one night in Kunming.

The trip was full of a variety of experiences, some relaxing and others physically challenging. We sat in hot mineral springs, and enjoyed great food in a number of hotel venues, but we also rode bikes down to Erhai Lake, rode horses up Jizu Shan, and hiked about 15 kilometers high on the flanks of Cang Shan above Dali.

During the trip our mode of transportation varied: planes, trains and automobiles—buses, actually—and horses, chair lifts, bicycles, and cable cars.

Wednesday was a particularly long day. We piled into the bus, I did a count to make certain that all of my charges were present, and then we took off on what would be by day’s end a 200km (round trip) peregrination to a holy mountain and the temple that sits on its peak, with stops along the way.

We stopped first at a tangerine orchard. The owner showed us how to pick fruit that was ready to eat and allowed us to pick on the spot and eat as much as we wanted. We were also allowed to take two tangerines with us for the ride. It was a fascinating experience to learn how the farmers terrace these orchards and do so in a way that irrigation is still possible. These tangerine trees or bushes were healthy and green and loaded with fruit.

We boarded the bus and journeyed further north and east toward Jizu Shan. We could see the white pagoda sitting atop the mountain from miles away. The road was winding and tortuous. There’s no a straight stretch of road in this area of more than 100 metres, I swear. The ride was not for the faint of heart. The bus ripped up these narrow roads, and you looked down on the ribbon of road from whence you came and felt like singing the old hymn, “Nearer, My God to Thee.” Atany given moment, I thought the bus would go flying off into the blue, and I’d be meeting my Maker.

Actually, not to give the wrong impression, our driver was fabulous, and he got us safely to our destination without fail every time, and without running into single water buffalo, goat, donkey cart, or pedestrian. He was amazing.

We came to the end of the road. Here we saddled up and headed up the mountain on horses. My particular horse was spectacularly unwilling to do anything I asked him to do. So I just let him clop his way up behind another horse and left it at that. An hour later we arrived at the cable cars which would take us up yet another leg of this huge and very high, not to speak of holy, mountain. Once off the cable car, we then had to climb steps to get to the temple and pagoda itself, for, as anyone who’s been in China long enough knows, wherever there’s a temple, steps are usually involved. A lot of steps.

There is no elevator to enlightenment.

By the time I huffed to the top of Jizu Shan on this sacred mountain, I was plenty enlightened, believe me.

The views were fabulous. Erhai Lake to the west was now only a sliver of a ribbon, a laser flash in the mauvy twilight. Although the lake is 42km long and 9km wide, it was barely visible. In other directions we could see distant valleys of farmland, or terraced plots of corn, or onions, or some other crop. It was a place of serene beauty, and as I watched through billowing puffs of incense a few of the monks attend to their prayers, I could understand why this place had become a refuge for those seeking peace and inner contentment.

We took the cable cars down, but instead of riding horses, we walked back down to the bus, a walk that involved countless steps. I thought I was doing fine until three Lisu ladies with canes blew past me; I soldiered on, made it to the bus and started to work on my application to Tie Care for a set of new titanium knees. It was good to get on the bus, and off we went.
It was nightfall ere we’d hit the valley, and the bus was quiet. We had a two hour trip ahead of us, but nevertheless we were excited because we were to meet up with another Yunnan trip group led by Gary Pearlz for a bonfire and barbecue and dancing!

The two hour ride became a three hour ride when traffic was re-routed because of an accident in which a motorcyclist lost his life in a collision with a truck. This announcement shocked us all, and numerous expressions of sympathy were offered on behalf of this man’s family and friends.

Our bus driver knew these roads, even in the dark. There’s no way I could have gotten these kids back to Dali, not even with a GPS system built by NASA itself. But our driver knew exactly where to go, and when we drove in to the parking lot at about 8 p.m. that night and saw the bonfires blazing, and smoke rising from the barbecue there was instant whooping and hollering. These kids deserved the celebration. It had been a long day, but a good day.

Not every day involved long bus rides.

One day, we drove to Xizhou, a village about 20km north of Dali and enjoyed three fascinating experiences. It was at Xizhou where the students got most involved with the cultural learning opportunities the trip had to offer.

First, we went to a family-owned “factory” where we learned more about the tie and dye process. The students, including the boys, sat down a small tables to do some sewing. Actually, an old Bai lady at each table showed the students how to thread a needle along a pattern and then twist and tie it with the thread. The fabric was then dyed in vats of indigo, red or green dyes. We all were quite involved in this project and later, our pieces of fabric, after being dyed and tried, were sent home with us and given to the students at a later date.

From here, we journeyed a short distance to the Linden Center. Here we were met by our host, the American, Brian Linden, 47,  whose work, coincidentally, was the subject of an article by James Fallow in the current (October) issue of The Atlantic (http://jamesfallows.theatlantic.com/archives/articles/ or http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200910/chinese-town). Here’s what Fallows says, in part, about the experiment known as the Linden Center: “In Xizhou, the Lindens worked with party officials to secure something rarely accorded foreigners: the right to use a “Class A” historical relic and restore it—its tiling, wooden arches and fretwork, painted murals. The buildings survived the 1960s because a People’s Liberation Army detachment had encamped there, keeping out the Red Guards. The Lindens have invested their savings in the faith that the rest of the town will be restored in similar taste—as local officials assure them—making the Linden Centre and Xizhou an internationally appealing cultural destination.”

We were met by both Brian and his wife, Jeanee. The students were impressed. They listened carefully as Linden explained what they were trying to do at the Center. After feeding the entire group, one of the artists associated with the Center distributed paper, cups and watercolors to every student and they then scattered to different spots within the Center or out on the road to draw and paint for the next two hours.

What appealed to the students, I think, was that the Linden’s were living examples of people who had a dream and were working on it, and making a difference. Because, these students, too, have dreams. You better believe it.

That very night, we boarded a late train for Kunming, climbed into berths and slept (?) for the clackety nine-hour journey to Kunming, and soon we were on a plane for home.
People ask me, “Timothy, would you do it again?” Why do they ask me that? Do they think that I don’t like kids or something? Or that I’m too old to be shepherding students around? Or that I’m just too old?

Sure, I’d do it again.

Yes, Warren Michel retrieved my camera when I left it on the bus, and yes, Jan Murphy got my bag of Yunnan coffee after I’d left it in the airport terminal. But I kept up just fine, thank you very much, and the boys were fabulous, and I didn’t droul on my shirt or anything.

And I think my colleagues would have me back.

But the students—I thought about how great it was for this sophomore class to have this fabulous experience as they continue to grow as the class 2012. Their take on the trip differed from student to student. For Yvonne Hsiao, the people were wonderful, “warm and genuine.” Sharon Hu enjoyed the biking and the hot springs, while Nalyn Siripanichgon said that “climbing the mountain was tiring, but the views were rewarding.”

Of course, China Alive is first a cultural experience. According to Shanti Vandijk, High School Physical Education Teacher, “China Alive helps the kids open their eyes to other parts of China—helps them to respect the culture in which they’re living.”

But Warren Michel, High School Mathematics Teacher argues that the China Alive experience is helpful in at least two more ways: “A lot of bonding takes place at this level and there’s a benefit to that,” he said. “But there’s also a maturity component this trip gives them—a chance for the students to practice growing as a person, rendering their own choices, not always good to be sure, but choices made in an atmosphere that is safe, non-judgmental and supportive.”

When this class leaves Shanghai American School, this event, along with a host of others, will be one aspect of a narrative tapestry as colorful and beautiful as those we saw in Dali, an adventure that will help them proudly tell others later in life, “High school? I went to Shanghai American School—yeah, it was great!”

 By Timothy Merrill, Editor, The EAGLE