Travel is Fatal

Welcome to... SURVIVOR: GALILEE

"On a large enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero." -Chuck Palahniuk

During certain endeavors, this survival rate may fall more quickly than at other times. One such hazardous endeavor (apparently) is sightseeing in Galilee. For the past three days there have been no blog updates, emails, or episodes of the Colbert Report. Rather, with my comrades at my side, I have traveled to the Frynges of Civilizatione! Together we have braved landmines and border patrols, giganticgriffon vultures and malevolent microbes, vertigo-inducing cliff hikes and baking archaeological digs. (And, you know, rolling green hills, banana plantations, and the pseudo-tropical Sea of Galilee. But the dangerous, melodramatic stuff was there, too...)

This is not to say that previous expeditions have been without their perils- we almost lost Lisa to the ravenous, litter-bug tourists of the Dead Sea. The very next day, Joseph was struck down by a pernicious bacterial attack, before he could even set foot on the Temple Mount.

Thus, it was with great trepidation that we set out on our (air-conditioned bus ride) trek to the north, past where rocky Judean desert melted into rolling grasslands and on to the tropical plantations and fertile valleys of Galilee. Our first destination was the ancient city of Beth-Shean, known by the Romans as Scythopolis.

 
Overview of Scythopolis from unpleasantly elevated archaeological tell/hill in the city.

At first, it appeared that all was well. We wandered around ancient bathhouses, took in ancient street promenades, treated milennia-old archaeological treasures like jungle gyms for our picture-taking amusement (cough cough Alex cough)... but we had allowed ourselves to be lulled into a false sense of security! Without warning (okay, with plenty of warning), two of our number were struck down with a (not-at-all) lethal malaise! We bravely trucked on, trying to get in the most important sites, like the theatre, the ancient public restrooms (marble seats- no joke), and the tree from Jesus Christ, Superstar.  But as more and more of our number fell victim to heat, dehydration, and disease, we were forced to return to the bus and retreat to a place of safety, where we could gather together and convelsce in peace. Yea, a place of asylum and restoration! A place like... the Golan Heights?

 
The heights of Golan. I was trying to capture one of the "Warning! Landmines!" signs, but we were driving too quickly along the hairpin turns.

After having veered perilously close to the valley of the shadow of messy and explosive death (several times) we turned into a tiny drive, lined with flowering trees, that said "Banias National Park." After having driven the rocky hills around Jerusalem, having tested the truly painful salinity of the Dead Sea, and having nearly expired of heat stroke in the scorching desert at Qumran- finally! a place that made me start to understand why God may have chosen to be born in Israel.

  

Spring and waterfall at Bannias National Park. The actual theological significance was more in the temples carved into the rockface, but my camera couldn't capture those. Just enjoy the pretty pictures.

Unfortunately, we didn't have time to hike over to Nimrod Fortress (no joke- King Nimrod is in the Bible), but it's probably just as well since Lorraine almost died before we even left the park.

Five down. How many of us actually came back from Galilee? Is this actually even Jacqui writing? I have to give up this computer since there are seven people waiting for one of the two working computers at Tantur, but stay tuned next time for the exciting conclusion of...

SURVIVOR: GALILEE!

 

Convalescence

“I enjoy convalescence. It is the part that makes the illness worth while.” -George Bernard Shaw

Fall is on its way out here in Jilin. It's getting colder outside, and the leaves (those that haven't been rendered unresponsive by pollution) have changed to reds and golds and oranges. It's quite beautiful, but it does make me miss the endless valleys of autumn leaves of the Cuyahoga Valley. I never appreciated the novelty of free access to nature until I came to China. I opted out of the 100 rmb visit to Red Leaf Valley this year, in spite of its beautiful scenery. Instead,I chose to visit the campus of Jilin Medical College, where my dear friends Father Brian and Wang Wei (and their free coffee) reside. (Disclaimer: Wang Wei does not actually reside at the Medical College, but with the amount of time she spends there, she really might as well.)

(Jilin Medical College- a small selection of the 2008 trees planted to commemorate the 2008 Olympic games)

Although you wouldn't know it from the colors of the leaves, we've already had our first snow in Jilin- a couple of days ago, in fact. It didn't stick, but the chill lingers in the cold breeze and the clammy interiors of apartments whose heating units won't be turned on for another two weeks. I think my apartment building is planning to freeze the swine flu out. It likes warm climes, right? Really, it's quite a logical approach. I'm sure that the fireworks that are still going off outside my window everyday are an equally logical attempt to scare the swine spirits away.

Maybe Beihua should give the old frozen firework approach a try- it seems like most of the people on campus are sick with something: the American guys all got either stomach viruses, bad colds, or the flu; a bunch of Pakistanis came down with laryngitis; and the Koreans have had a monopoly on digestive issues. The Russians claimed to have some sort of something, but I suspect they were just hungover. I, myself- being the global citizen that I am- have tried my best to catch all of the above, but have managed to escape with minor stomach weirdness and four days without a voice. I'm hoping that the latter is the result of a cold, rather than early-onset throat cancer from my exposure to Chinese air. The voice seems to be coming back more or less normally, though, so I think I'll be okay. Maybe I'll write an inspirational book about it someday... Where Miracles Happen: The Shocking True Story of How 1.6 Billion People Breathe Chinese Air Every Day... And Live to Tell the Tale!

Okay, so it's a working title.

In spite of all the illness and coldness, the Beihua students were adamant about getting English Corner up and running. Dedicated kids, my former students. That's why yesterday, despite sounding like an 80 year old smoker with an artificial larynx, I found myself on the 32 bus headed to Beihua. 

Now there are some very nice bus lines in Jilin. There are bus lines with big, spacious aisles and modern steering apparatuses. There are bus lines with new brakes and working doors. There are even bus lines that may be accidentally fuel efficient. The number 32 bus line, however, is not associated with any of the aforementioned characteristics.

The bus I was on seemed to have only two gears- go and neutral. For the most part this was fine, and I didn't even notice anything amiss until halfway through the journey... that was when we tried to stop on a hill. The driver gunned past the bus stop, then put the bus in neutral and opened the doors. Fascinated, I watched as the passengers lept off the bus, which was slowly sliding back toward the stop. When we reached the bus stop, the waiting crowd casually hooked arms around the sagging door and pulled themselves up the stairs. I was most impressed by an elderly woman who came just as the bus driver started to rev the engine- she took a running leap and managed to simultaneously squeeze past three people waiting in line and avoid being crushed by the closing bus door. I wonder sometimes if public transportation in China is merely one giant training scenario for future Chinese gymnasts; it would certainly explain why gymnastics is the Olympic flag sport of China.

I exited the bus and walked toward the building where English Corner was being held. The road outside Beihua looked like a scene from The Great Escape- kids climbing over fences and slipping between holes in the fence, skulking in the shadows outside the lights as they waited for the guards' attention to wane. Campus quarantine is kind of a joke. Some of the Chinese students just walk right past the guards, jabbering in a made-up language; they say the guards think they're Korean, and let them walk right out.

 

Scenes from Beihua: (left) the field students sneak across to get to the fence, (right) the street outside campus

English Corner itself was short and crowded. I passed the time by surreptitiously beckoning George's students over to my group, while he tried to retaliate by mocking my taste in clothing. I think we should do an English Corner focusing on trash talk, so the students will be able to keep up next time.

(George attempting to lure students to his side by virtue of his abnormal height)

After English Corner was finished, I opted to take a taxi home, rather than risk dismemberment on the 32. I climbed up the stairs to my apartment, let myself in, and thought about how much more enjoyable convalescing would be if only I had heat.