Dragon Hearts: Eagle in China

By Carol Ann Nix

Dragon Hearts: Eagle in China is the first sequel to Dragon Hearts: Love in China. Books in the Dragon Hearts Series are memoirs containing candid accounts of the author’s life teaching Chinese undergraduate and graduate students in Beijing. While in China, Carol Ann Nix fell in love with a Chinese colleague, with her Chinese students and

• Language: English
• Publisher: Koehler Books
• Release date: Dec 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781633932449

Carol Ann Nix

Carol Ann Nix is a lawyer and former university professor in the United States and China. She taught undergraduate and graduate Chinese students in Beijing over a four-year period for Valparaiso University, Fanzhidu International Educational Information Consulting Co., Ltd., Graduate School of Chinese Academy of Agricultural Sciences (CAAS), and at Peking University. She was a Visiting Expert who taught at the United Nation's 91st International Training Course held in Tokyo, Japan sponsored by the United Nations Asia and Far East Institute (UNAFEI). Carol's previously published works appear in a UNAFEI publication, a professional legal journal, and at Amazon.com.

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PREFACE

Dragon Hearts: Eagle in China is my first sequel to Dragon Hearts: Love in China. Books in the Dragon Hearts Series are memoirs containing candid accounts of my life in China from 2009 through 2013. The stories embody my personal experiences and impressions as a university professor teaching Chinese undergraduate and graduate students in Beijing. The books are about Chinese hearts touching my heart, and my heart touching theirs. More sequels will follow.

While in China, I fell in love with a Chinese colleague, with my Chinese students and their rich culture, and with nearly every man, woman, and child in Beijing. The dragon swallowed me whole. My Dragon Hearts Series focuses on many aspects of love and adventures in Beijing, Inner Mongolia, Jincheng, Guangzhou, Zhuhai, Xiamen, Guilin, and other fascinating cities in China. I hope my stories help you come to know the good Chinese people as I know them—and to love them as I love them. We are so much more alike than different.

As an insider, I learned Chinese ways firsthand, and I pass them on to you via my Dragon Hearts books. The stories take you into the lives of young urban Chinese professionals and university students in modern-day Beijing—a teeming city undergoing spectacular growth and renewal—an ancient city rapidly adapting to and adopting Western material culture.

My heartfelt thanks to Yo, Wen Wen, Marilyn, Lisa, Lucy, and each and every one of my Chinese friends. You know who you are, and you are dear to my heart. A world of thanks to my publisher John Koehler, to Leticia Gomez, and to all the other good people at Koehler Books.

Thank you Philip Vaughn for creating my woweezow website at www.carolannnix.com. And thank you, Wild River Bear (Gerald L. Hill), a member of the Bear Clan of the Oneida Nation and my longtime friend. You have helped me better understand the significance of Eagle and my connection with that sacred bird.

I enjoy a profound and abiding admiration and respect for nature—for eagles in particular. I worked with injured eagles as a volunteer for two weeks at the Alaska Raptor Center in Sitka, Alaska. My duties included capturing injured eagles inside large enclosures and holding them in my arms in the Center’s medical clinic while a veterinarian treated them. A bald eagle flew a low circle above me while I canoed on a river in Wisconsin. A Native American elder gave me the natural name of Eagle Tree Woman during a Sweat Lodge Ceremony. Thus, my personal email address begins with eagletreewoman. Most significant was an encounter I had with two eagles in Custer State Park, a wildlife reserve located in the Black Hills of South Dakota. The Eagle in Dragon Hearts: Eagle in China refers to me—because of my connection with eagle on both physical and spiritual levels, and because I am an American, for which the bald eagle is a prominent symbol.

Thank you Sandy (Wang Na), Xia (Zhang Xia), and Doral Chenoweth for your all-out support. Special thanks to Sue, Kevin, and Ashley Holland—also to Janet and Dave Burke—my great friends and neighbors at home. If you had not taken care of my cats and house, I would have missed China altogether. And thank you readers—for what is an author without an appreciative audience? Lastly, thank you, mystical Muse of mine—and Mom and Dad.

Carol Ann Nix

Plymouth, Indiana

December 2015

1

SANDSTORMY REALTIOSHIPS

March 3, 2010

What did Yo and I talk about last night at Pizza Buffet in Beijing? Us—him and me—Yo and Carol. That was a first. We are happy with our relationship. We won’t tag it with a name or plan for the future. Yo is an honorable, traditional Chinese man. I love that, but tradition places demands on him. I am an American and considerably older than Yo. Aging won’t stop. Are Chinese tradition and a significant age difference insurmountable obstacles? Time will tell. For now, we will kick back and enjoy each other. Yo believes in destiny. I believe in God. As far as I am concerned, anything can happen.

Spring Festival is over. We are officially in the Chinese Year of the Tiger. Spring semester is beginning at Fanzhidu School in Beijing, as I continue teaching Chinese university students here. A few words of explanation: All my students and colleagues are Chinese. They use English names to help Americans and other foreigners who are either too lazy or too inept to remember pronunciations of Chinese names. I will place myself in the inept category. I just cannot master pronouncing the likes of Zhang Zhiyao.

I am also excited about teaching two new American Law courses at world-renowned Peking University—an institution where significant historic events took root—the Cultural Revolution in 1966—Tiananmen Square protests in 1989.

March 4, 2010

Ever hopeful, I texted Yo. I invite you to my apartment on Sunday for dinner and a stab at studying English.

I don’t know if I can be with you, he replied. Our Fanzhidu boss James wants us Chinese teachers to hand out promotional brochures on Saturday. Teachers shouldn’t have to pass out propaganda. It’s not professional. We aren’t marketers. Anyway, hope I am free on Sunday.

March 6, 2010

Hot water went on strike in my apartment. Not Wen Wen’s fault. The main pipe in the building broke. Both my home telephone and Internet service are down. Totally Wen Wen’s fault. She forgot to pay the bills. Wen Wen is my best lady friend in Beijing and my landlady. She is an infinitely better friend than landlady.

I rendezvoused with Wen Wen in the lobby of Swissotel in downtown Beijing. Swissotel is a luxury hotel in Hong Kong Macau Center where Fanzhidu corporate offices are located. Wen Wen wore a new coat—buff-colored cashmere with full fur collar. She bought it from her cousin Ling for 900 Yuan ($150.00). We ate at our favorite Korean restaurant. I saw the publisher man for the second time, said Wen Wen. I like him better now, but my parents think he’s too old. I like older men. They’re more mature and reliable. I am thirty. A man anywhere between thirty-five and forty is good for me.

Yo texted, Sorry, we can’t be together tomorrow. I have to hand out more brochures. Have a nice weekend.

Can we get together after you finish working? I replied.

No, I need to prepare to teach Monday classes. Hope you understand.

Big sigh.

March 8, 2010

Happy Women’s Day! was Wen Wen’s early morning text. I had to Google the term to learn that International Women’s Day is celebrated in China. The United Nations theme for IWD 2010 is Equal Access to Education, Training, and Science and Technology: Pathway to Decent Work for Women. My question: Do we even celebrate International Women’s Day in the United States? Shouldn’t we?

My toilet doesn’t flush. I called Wen Wen. You’re out of cold water, she explained. I need to buy more. In China you have to buy cold water and hot water separately. I can’t buy more until tomorrow.

Tomorrow? What do I do now?

Pour a bucket of water down the toilet. Everything will go down with it, she said. I held my nose and poured. More and more, I am learning acceptance. Perhaps that is one reason I’m in China.

My Fanzhidu colleague Lisa married shortly before I arrived in Beijing last October. Together we paged through her wedding photo album. What a beautiful bride she made. Lisa is happy. Her husband does all the cooking.

I received my first ever email from my married niece Annie back home. Bad news. Her husband left her. He wants a divorce, but still wants to be friends. I would scratch his eyes out if I were her. I was their wedding photographer. It was my gift to the newlyweds. I thought their marriage would last. I thought wrong. No one can accurately predict which marriages will flourish and which will wilt—not even a fortune-telling Chinese monk in a Buddhist temple.

I told Yo about my niece’s broken marriage. I’m not surprised that people divorce, he said. You can’t know someone until you’re married.

If you date long enough, you can know a person pretty well, I said, but you cannot know if the two of you will change in compatible ways after marriage. Too many spouses get weird after the wedding ceremony.

March 10, 2010

I called Yo. James is sending me back to Jincheng, I said. Mr. Wang is sponsoring more promotional English classes. He promised an American teacher but couldn’t find one in a week. Lisa calls this an emergency. Mr. Wang will lose face if he doesn’t produce an American teacher. No worries. He won’t lose face. He will produce me.

Will I come with you? Yo asked. I want to be your teaching assistant.

I hope so, I said. James will make that decision. We will find out everything tomorrow.

Seeing Tony at school reminded me of the lovely silver necklace he bought for his girlfriend in Jincheng last week. Did your girlfriend like her gift? I asked.

She was moved, he said.

She smothered you with hugs and kisses, didn’t she?

How did you know?

I smiled a knowing smile. Women everywhere love gifts from boyfriends and husbands. Hugs and kisses are our global expressions of gratitude.

March 11, 2010

I continue self-flushing the toilet. It could be worse—it might not flush at all.

Lisa brought me up to date on Jincheng. I will leave Beijing tomorrow morning on the express train—alone. No Yo. No Tony. Nobody.

March 12, 2010

It was Yo’s duty to get me to the train on time. My phone rang at 6:30 a.m. It was Yo. I’m on my way to your apartment with the Fanzhidu driver, he said. Are you ready?

I frowned. You’re early. Tell the driver to slow down. Yo knocked on the apartment door too soon and mumbled when he found me still packing. Hurry, Carol.

Okay, okay, I’m doing my best. I self-flushed the toilet one last time and closed the apartment door behind us. Beijing’s rush-hour traffic was particularly snail-like and snarly. Yo kept glancing nervously at his watch. James would blame him if I missed the train. When the driver jerked to a halt in front of the station Yo grabbed my suitcase and forged his way through the crowd. Follow me, he said. Stay close. A security guard blocked him at the last security gate. Only ticketed passengers were allowed beyond that point. I would have to find the reserved car and my reserved seat alone. I was doomed.

Yo said something to the guard in authoritative, rapid-fire Chinese, and the man opened the gate, allowing us both onto the boarding platform. Huge sigh of relief. Yo maneuvered us through scurrying passengers. He was the head of the dragon, and I was the tail. He led me to my reserved first class seat exactly three minutes before departure. No time for long goodbyes, He placed my suitcase above my seat and left me with other business passengers. Smiling, I wondered what white lie he had told the guard to get past the security gate. Yo overcomes obstacles the way Liu Xi’ang leaps over hurdles.

In a fast three-and-a-half hours I arrived in Taiyuan, the capital of Shanxi Province. Mr. Wang and Smily met me at the station. The city was gritty. Smily explained Taiyuan burns massive amounts of dirty coal in order to produce electricity. Ah, that explains the soot in my eyes. We ate lunch in a hotel and then began our drive south to Jincheng. Smily and I happily chatted away in the backseat. My cell phone rang. Yo. Are you safe? Where are you?

I’m happy and healthy in Mr. Wang’s car, I said. We’re on our way to Jincheng.

Good, he said. Did you need me on the train?

Of course, I always need you, but I managed. The express train was clean and fast. A nice Chinese man lifted my suitcase off the rack when we pulled into the station. What’s new with you?

A friend wants to introduce me to a French girl who works in Beijing.

I frowned inside and out. Does she speak Chinese or English? I asked.

Neither. Only French.

How would you communicate?

English was my first foreign language at university. French was my second.

I sighed and decided to put in a good word for Smily. Yo’s relatives are intent on marrying him off. At least I can help him choose a girl worthy of him. Let me introduce you to my friend Smily. She lives in Jincheng. She’s a sweet, traditional girl.

It doesn’t matter how well suited we are, he said. She’s not from Beijing. I will marry a Beijinger. If I married Smily she would want to spend too much time with her parents in Jincheng. It’s far away from Beijing and inconvenient to visit.

You’re probably right about the parent thing, I said.

When I was recently in Hohhot a female friend offered to share her new car with me. I could drive it to Beijing and use it as my own.

That was generous of her, I said.

No, not generous. If I accepted, I would have to be her boyfriend.

Oh, I get it. There’s the rub.

What does that mean?

It means the boyfriend thing is the downside of driving the girl’s car.

I like my female friend, he said, but if we became boyfriend-girlfriend, we wouldn’t be friends forever. Yo was right, of course. When a man and woman take that wild running leap from friendship to romance they can never return to square one. The initial leap is one of blind faith and cross-your-fingers hope that the romance will last. What are the chances of that? If romance ends—and it probably would—the wonderful spirit of friendship could never be rekindled. Eventually, the two would split and go their separate ways. It’s just the way human beings are. At least, that’s my experience.

The students in my dorm are too noisy, Yo complained. My Beijing relatives offered to let me live with them. I would commute to school. They offered to find me a good job in business too.

I think you should give business or government a try, Yo. You’d be a formidable businessman or director of an important government agency. You need to consider your future. Teaching isn’t your destiny. You didn’t major in English or Education. You can never be a professor at Peking University. I see your future in the world of business or government.

I won’t leave Fanzhidu, he said resolutely, not as long as you are there.

His words touched my heart. Thanks, Yo. We’ll teach together at Fanzhidu until I leave China. You can change careers after that.

Smily and I rode on in comfortable silence. I focused on the passing landscape. The English translation on a highway sign made me laugh. Do not drive tiredly. I noticed trees, tens of thousands of trees, planted along the highway. Planting trees throughout China is one of the government’s most visible responses to pollution. The Chinese economy is growing by leaps and bounds—so is resultant pollution. Being Eagle Tree Woman, I love the tree-planting policy.

Smily explained my teaching responsibilities for the weekend. I will teach both primary and middle school students tomorrow and high school students on Sunday. Frankly, I dread teaching the preteens. They didn’t understand my English words a week ago. Nothing has changed. Also, the control issue looms large. My teacher colleague Tony failed miserably to maintain proper classroom decorum even though Chinese is his native language. I don’t speak more than ten words of Mandarin. How can I hope to do better with such a yawning language gap? Impending disaster. Mr. Wang checked me into the Jin Yuan Hotel—the hotel where I stayed last week and had bathroom issues. I’m tired from travelling. My stomach hurts. I’m glum. Before lights-out, I texted Yo. Wish you were here. I’m not confident about tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Don’t worry, he said. You are the master teacher.

March 13, 2010

So nice to find both hot and cold water flowing freely in the sink and tub this morning. Humming cheerfully, I turned on the shower full blast and went about setting the day’s clothes on the bed. Naked, I returned to find a flooded floor. The showerhead had gone goofy and sprayed water everywhere except in the tub. My optimism gurgled under an inch of water.

Mr. Wang drove me to school. I walked into the classroom smiling, yet intent on being firm with my young charges. Some faces looked familiar. Others were new. A Chinese teacher named Paul was to help me with the little ones, but he was a no-show. With only Smily to translate when necessary, I grabbed the Chinese ox by its horns and did what I was born to do—teach.

I texted Yo late in the day. Much to my surprise, class was superfine. Somehow, the children understood me. Smily gets a cartload of credit for that. Mr. Wang offered me a permanent teaching job in Jincheng. He doesn’t care that James would be furious. I won’t take the job. Jincheng is nice, but you are in Beijing.

Yes, stay with me in Beijing, Carol, he replied.

At midnight, I lay in bed thinking about lunch with Smily. A Chinese woman took care of the restaurant bathroom. She smiled at me when I entered. After washing my hands, the woman handed me paper towels. She held up four fingers on one hand and two on the other. Then she pointed to herself. Forty-two, the woman was forty-two years old. She pointed at me. I held up six fingers close together. The woman thought I was younger. She pointed at her grey hair roots. The rest of her hair was dyed harsh black. I don’t need to color my dark brown hair. The woman wore an old face—sagging, lined, weathered. I wondered what trials in life had caused her to age so severely. Still, when she smiled, I only saw her sweet ageless spirit.

March 14, 2010

After showering I opened a small complimentary bottle of lotion and spread the white cream over my body as a fragrant moisturizer. The consistency was odd, sticky. I slipped on my reading glasses and read the label. Shampoo—I had rubbed shampoo all over my body.

High school students were on today’s agenda. Ten were expected. Thirty-two showed up. We moved to a larger classroom with electric lights. Neither room had heat. Something was wrong with the light switch, so I taught without benefit of incandescent lighting. The room would have felt like a coal mine but for scant natural light filtering through large filthy windows. Despite adverse conditions, the class went well. I taught. The students learned. Everyone laughed. Good experiences all around. In every group of Chinese students, I can identify those who will eventually travel to the United States to study. I have a knack for recognizing adventurous spirits.

After class, Mr. Wang introduced me to twelve special students he calls Arts Candidates. They are all beautiful, active young men and women planning careers in the arts. Understandably, these passionate artists find traditional classroom learning unbearably boring. This class for Arts Candidates is an experiment. I seemed to fascinate the lot of them. Like curious children, they touched me—scrutinized me. I felt like an alien being examined by NASA scientists.

One young man performed a special dance for me. The front of the classroom was his stage. He was a proud peacock. No one told me. I clearly saw the showy bird in his body language. Another kind of artist sketched my face and torso. I posed on the edge of a table. He said something in Chinese, and Smily translated. He said he’s nervous and his hands are quivering.

Tell him I’m nervous too, I said. Everybody laughed. Shyly, the artist showed me the finished portrait. The class thought it was a good likeness. I asked him to sign the sketch. He seemed honored and bowed slightly as he presented it to me.

March 15, 2010

I am Beijing-bound today. During hotel checkout Mr. Wang raised his voice and made angry gestures. What’s wrong? I asked Smily.

The hotel receptionist says you bought a battery charger and must pay for it.

I didn’t buy anything. Someone made a mistake. Tell her she can search my purse and suitcase.

Smily translated and then said, That won’t be necessary. The hotel believes you.

Mr. Wang and Smily drove me to Taiyuan in time to board the train to Beijing. I sent a text from the train. Hey Yo, the weekend was a whopping success. Twenty-five new students registered and paid to take a semester of English classes. You and I should open our own English school in the South of China where it’s warm. See you tomorrow.

Great idea, he replied. Let’s seriously consider it.

Tony and the Fanzhidu driver met me at the station. Tony was smoking. I was surprised, because he had given up cigarettes. Did you meet your girlfriend’s parents? I asked.

I met her mother at dinner. She said I must have a house in Beijing before I can marry her daughter. That’s impossible on my salary. Houses in Beijing are expensive. Even worse, she wants my girlfriend to leave Beijing and move back to their hometown. My girlfriend wants to stay here with me and keep her airport security job. The three of us will have dinner again tonight.

Tony, your girlfriend’s mother is looking out for her daughter’s welfare. I can’t blame her for wanting a rich man for her daughter. Life is easier if a couple has money. She wants a man who can afford to take care of her daughter and a future grandchild. Raising a child is expensive. You know what a college education costs. If you’re intent on marrying the girl, you need to find a higher paying job. If she loves you, she will wait.

Tony was uncharacteristically quiet during the drive to my apartment. At the gate he removed my suitcase from the trunk and lit another cigarette. Good luck, Tony, I said. Maybe things will go better tonight. Prepare yourself for the worst, I thought.

I opened my apartment door expecting to step into an icebox. Normally, the government shuts off central heating throughout Northern China between March 15 and November 15. What a surprise and relief to find a cozy warm environment. I called Wen Wen for an explanation. The government delayed turning off the heat because more cold weather is coming, she said. We have one more week of heat.

Ah, a reprieve, I thought.

March 16, 2010

I gasped when I saw Yo at school. You got a buzz, I said.

What’s a buzz?

I placed my hand on top of my head and slid it backward to the nape of my neck. It’s the style of your new short haircut. He nodded his understanding. I like it, I said. (Lie.)

Tony sat slumped in his chair looking like a drunken bum. I walked over to him and gently placed my hand on his shoulder. How did things go last night?

My girlfriend’s mother cancelled our dinner. She told me never to see her daughter again."

Oh, Tony, I’m so sorry.

I called my girlfriend. She wants to see me. She wants to be with me. She wants to marry me. I stayed out all night drinking and smoking.

Don’t give up hope, Tony. Something might happen. When is your girlfriend’s mother leaving Beijing?

She isn’t. She lives with my girlfriend now and will get a job in Beijing unless they move back to their hometown together.

Not good, I said. Her mother is tenacious. She’s not giving you any opportunity. Perhaps your girlfriend will defy her mother and see you anyway.

Not in China, he said. My girlfriend is an only child. Chinese parents exert strong control over their one child—especially over girls.

Perhaps you could compromise, I said. You could move to your girlfriend’s hometown. A house would be cheaper there.

I have a sister, Tony said. She lives in Beijing, and our parents are moving here to be with us.

What else could I say? I patted Tony on the shoulder and left him to grieve.

Yo took me to dinner at Pizza Buffet. We sat in our favorite booth against the wall. Tony is getting behind in his work, Yo said, so Marilyn is transferring some projects to me. I saw him standing outside smoking today. He was wasting time. It irritated me.

Cut Tony some slack, Yo. He’s losing his girlfriend. Her mother is against the match and imposed impossible conditions for marriage. She wants him to buy a house in Beijing before a wedding. She expects him to buy it outright with cash. A mortgage isn’t acceptable.

Yo shook his head. "This is common in China. It puts pressure on young guys. Rich men get their choice of women. If a girl’s mother told me to buy a house for her daughter, I would say, ‘No, you buy a house for me. If you do, I might marry your daughter.’"

I laughed. You’re a proud man, Yo.

While you were in Jincheng my relatives introduced me to a new girl, a teacher. We didn’t have many common words. She wants me to play table tennis with her every Saturday and Sunday. I won’t do it. She’s trying to lock onto me. How could she? Never. I told my relatives I won’t see her again. They said I should reconsider because her father is a rich Communist leader who gave her a house in Beijing. I won’t give my heart to a house.

Good for you, Yo, I said, relieved to know he remains unattached—at least for now.

I have a female friend who works at a television station in Beijing, he continued. She’s beautiful and could be a famous model. She asked me to be her boyfriend. I refused because it would ruin our friendship.