After my last post in the height of culture shock, Todd wrote to suggest I adopt the "zen approach"--which honestly I think deserves its own chapter in Larsen-Freeman's 'Techniques and Principles in Language Teaching.'
Zen.
how beautiful. and how true--what other options are there? I can't build or break the academic reputation of a university, I can't make my students do things which they aren't prepared for. in nine weeks, of course I can do something--even somethings--but I can't do it all. I can only do what I can do. the trick is figuring out what I can do--and what I can enable or encourage others to do. because for me zen is also about pushing things forward, about growth.
In so many ways, striving for zen I think describes my approach to culture shock in general here--working to not let things 'get to me'--and when they do, having lots of conversations in public places where I just make loud hand motions-- and, by the same token, doing what feels right to me without caving into fear. I often hear people speaking about, or from, a place of fear--and not of huge things, but fear of the mundane, fear of the day to day; fear of walking alone (let alone at night! gasp!), fear of stray dogs, fear of becoming infertile from sitting on pavement, or having my kidneys freeze because my shirt isn't tucked into my pants, fear of the omniscient/omnipresent all-judging eye (of the neighbors, people on the streets, colleagues and strangers alike).
And so, yesterday, Malvina and I bought bicycles. Even as I reject materialism--pedaling away, I felt like I had just bought freedom.
However, most of the other people on bikes are
1. men, and
2. elderly
so Malvina and I stand out just a bit. and I realized that we basically have two options:
1. let standing out bother us--and not ride, or
2. smile and bike on
even in the rain.
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