Lessons With Chopsticks
By Bailey Skiles, Hong Kong, China
Bailey Skiles visits a fish market near her dorm in Hong Kong.
My first pair of chopsticks was salvaged from a takeout bag. A friend and I were celebrating my upcoming semester abroad when she bypassed the chopsticks, handed me a fork, and only half-jokingly added, "You can keep that for your trip to China." Like so many other friends and family members, she was supportive but a bit perplexed by my decision to study in Hong Kong. I did not speak Cantonese or know much about the culture. While these facts puzzled others, they were the very reasons I chose Hong Kong. I wanted something new, different, and completely foreign. However, as I sat there eating fried rice with a fork, I realized that I needed to learn at least one skill before leaving. I spent the rest of the summer eating with chopsticks.
When I left for Hong Kong, I felt that I could use my chopsticks quite skillfully. At my first,
true Chinese dinner, I learned that this was not the case. While I had learned to maneuve the distance from plate to mouth, group dinners in Hong Kong require eaters to reach across the table with their chopsticks for one of the many shared dishes. Our first course was an appetizer of oiled peanuts. To my consternation, I could not pick up a single one. As the main dishes arrived, I began to wonder if I would recognize any of the other foods. One of my dinner partners noticed my struggles and proceeded to show me a different method of holding chopsticks. Another person simply asked the waiter for a fork. "Mm goi (thank you)," I said when he brought it to me.
The lessons of this meal were also the substance of my experience in Hong Kong. First, I stretched myself farther than I ever had before. I left my comfort zone in Kansas, and I refused to waste a single moment while I was away. Hikes up Victoria Peak, an extra class on Hong Kong's economy, and afternoons wandering through small neighborhoods with my camera filled my free time. Second, I learned to accept that some parts of the culture would remain difficult for me to grasp. For instance, I cannot begin to explain the process by which China's new president was chosen although I tried to understand the dynamics of this change. Third, I discovered that exploration of the unknown, whether tasting an unusual food or venturing into a Buddhist temple, oftentimes brought me unexpected fulfillment. Fourth, I began to examine my own knowledge of the world from new perspectives. Perhaps the concept that I struggled with the most was what it means to be an American. Conversations with my newfound friends from Hong Kong, France, Austria, Japan, the United States, and elsewhere prompted my internal debate. Lastly, I remained grateful for the everyday efforts of others to help me adjust. When the bank teller taught me how to pay my tuition electronically or my floormate let me know ER was one, I always followed their kindness with "Mm goi." Thank you was the first and most important expression I learned in Cantonese.
I spent my last few nights in Hong Kong sorting through souvenirs and packing my suitcase. My roommate stayed awake to keep me company, and we quickly developed a simple game to pass the time. Taking turns, we would each think of something Chinese that I now needed in order to survive in America. "An umbrella for Kansas hurricanes," she offered. "A jade stamp, because I have forgotten how to sign my name," I responded. She handed me a slender, wrapped gift, "Chopsticks so you can eat." Just a few months before, another dear friend had handed me a fork with the same concern. My chopsticks and my time in Hong Kong taught me that nourishment comes from stretching, accepting, exploring, examining, and appreciating. However, their last lesson was perhaps the most poignant. We share the same needs and concerns in life, our cultures just provide us with different tools for the journey.
My Pride and Joy
By Lindsay Mathews, San Jose, Costa Rica
Costa Rica was a part of me long before I even arrived on her lush Latina soil. I like to imagine that my love for Costa Rica and its inhabitants is not unlike the love a mother has for her children. I knew I would love it unconditionally even before I arrived, and my love would continue long after I left. The
idea of studying abroad in Costa Rica was conceived in the spring of my freshman year. I felt my biological clock ticking: I needed out of Kansas. It didn't take me long to settle on the Costa Rica program. I wanted Spanish, political stability and complete cultural immersion. I began the application process in October, and it was a long two months waiting for the results. And then, in early December I heard from the Office of Study Abroad. The results came back positive! I was officially on my way to give birth to a whole new experience. Just like a mother waits for the delivery date with a strong sense of anticipation. I too sat with my bags packed long before my departure date. Before I left I would stay up late at night, snacking on bean and peanut butter burritos, imagining all of the possible situations that lay ahead. Finally on a cold early morning in late January I arrived at the airport ready to begin my adventures.
My emotions ran high during my first week in Costa Rica. I was worn out from the flight and the immediate language shock. I slept 12 hours a day and I late without an appetite. The first month flew by. Embedded within it were trips to the
situation struck home. Not only was I expected to speak Spanish at home, but also in the classroom.
On the timeline of my experience abroad I hit the terrible two's mark, and my walls of fortitude began to tremble. I did not throw tantrums, nor did I paint the walls of my home with beans and rice, but for a
The Spring of 2003 "Grupo de Kansas."
beach, volcanoes, and the rainforest. I lived in a fantasy world, in which everything around me was wonderful and exciting. As the second month came around I began school and the reality of my
brief time I felt small and helpless in a bigger man's world. Luckily, time continued to pass and soon enough I was moving on to bigger and better things.I improved my Spanish comprehension level and gained confidence in all aspects of daily life.
Reflecting back, my months abroad passed by like the early years of childhood. Each year was significant at the time, yet looking back it seems like one large smear of faces and words. By the end of my five and a half months I felt like I had raised a successful experience, from infancy to adulthood. And then, just as easily as it all began, it ended. With respect I buried my Costa Rican experience among the pages of my scrapbooks and journal entries. Yet still her presence in my life exists. After the end of anything one must search for closure in order to move on from one moment to the next. So I said my goodbyes, shed my tears of love, and I let go. Every once and a while I reminisce over pleasant memories, spreading Costa Rican stories throughout the Kansas prairies. And through such moments, in which I reflect back and smile, I realize I once held something
beautiful within my fingers. Now I move forward, with the belief that next time I will enjoy it even more.
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Jayhawks Abroad Fall 2003