I have been reading a book called “Chinese Lessons” this past week. I had seen the book in bookshops before but I wasn’t interested until it was spotted in the library a week ago. It is one of those books that you may find hard to put down once you get started and I had a crush on the author right from the beginning. LOL. I fall easily for adventurous Western (not to be confused with cowboys) men who can forego the comforts of the Western/Developed world to live elsewhere for a while. John Pomfret scored even higher marks when I learned that he is multilingual. Now, as almost always, I read neither what was written inside the front jacket nor what was inside the back jacket, I started the book knowing only that he went to China. It was towards the end of the book that I learned that he was already married with children. Bummer! LOL. That was good news to the slightly jealous M who has begun to call him ‘Fred’ to annoy me. LOL.
The book struck a chord with me because I too had spent some time in Nanjing many years ago. I was only there for about a month and a half though. John Pomfret went to Nanjing in the early 80’s when he was 22. I was younger than him when I went there in the mid 90’s – the December when that Big Bluffer Ye was appointed deputy chief of Nanjing’s Drum Tower District. I also got to Nanjing by train. To the utter horror of my parents, I talked my uncle and cousin into buying two tickets for my then boyfriend and I to travel to Nanjing from Guangzhou by train. I didn’t attend Nanda though. I spent my time improving my pronunciation at Nanjing Normal University with my own personal tutor in a big classroom. So, why was I given the special treatment? The reasons to that depend on who you ask!
Chapter 4 was especially hard to read. What happened to Old Wu’s parents was absolutely awful and it happened right on the lawn that I used to walk past almost daily. At the time when I was there, I knew very little about China’s recent history (post 1949). I had only just started to take an interest in what happened to Nanjing in WWII. My tutor and I used to visit the campus library to dig up books about the 1937 massacre. She thought I was rather odd to be so interested. So while I was quite capable of imagining the campus being part of the safety zone during the war, I was shocked to learn that the very same lawn also witnessed another bout of brutality against humanity and the complete madness that occurred during the Cultural Revolution. I too wondered how Old Wu could accept a teaching job at NNU after his graduation from Nanda. He must possess an infinite ability to ‘ren’.
Wow! That’s a lot that I have revealed about myself. I hardly talk about my experiences in Nanjing. The trip was one big adventure. I was on a high even though I developed minor chest problems when I left China and required asthmatic medication when I got home. My mum was proud of me. I was the first in my generation to have stayed for a period of time in China. Since the ban was lifted around 1990, most of us returned only for short visits. The high was short-lived. I came crashing down when I was informed of a death about two weeks after I left China. The death of this person shook me to the core and it forever changed me as an adult. It not only overshadowed my Nanjing experience, it sent my sense of adventure packing. From then on, the old adventurous Priscilla was packed away and a new pathetic Priscilla emerged. Poor M has never seen the old Priscilla. He has only heard of her in the stories that I told him.
The book struck a chord with me because I too had spent some time in Nanjing many years ago. I was only there for about a month and a half though. John Pomfret went to Nanjing in the early 80’s when he was 22. I was younger than him when I went there in the mid 90’s – the December when that Big Bluffer Ye was appointed deputy chief of Nanjing’s Drum Tower District. I also got to Nanjing by train. To the utter horror of my parents, I talked my uncle and cousin into buying two tickets for my then boyfriend and I to travel to Nanjing from Guangzhou by train. I didn’t attend Nanda though. I spent my time improving my pronunciation at Nanjing Normal University with my own personal tutor in a big classroom. So, why was I given the special treatment? The reasons to that depend on who you ask!
Chapter 4 was especially hard to read. What happened to Old Wu’s parents was absolutely awful and it happened right on the lawn that I used to walk past almost daily. At the time when I was there, I knew very little about China’s recent history (post 1949). I had only just started to take an interest in what happened to Nanjing in WWII. My tutor and I used to visit the campus library to dig up books about the 1937 massacre. She thought I was rather odd to be so interested. So while I was quite capable of imagining the campus being part of the safety zone during the war, I was shocked to learn that the very same lawn also witnessed another bout of brutality against humanity and the complete madness that occurred during the Cultural Revolution. I too wondered how Old Wu could accept a teaching job at NNU after his graduation from Nanda. He must possess an infinite ability to ‘ren’.
Wow! That’s a lot that I have revealed about myself. I hardly talk about my experiences in Nanjing. The trip was one big adventure. I was on a high even though I developed minor chest problems when I left China and required asthmatic medication when I got home. My mum was proud of me. I was the first in my generation to have stayed for a period of time in China. Since the ban was lifted around 1990, most of us returned only for short visits. The high was short-lived. I came crashing down when I was informed of a death about two weeks after I left China. The death of this person shook me to the core and it forever changed me as an adult. It not only overshadowed my Nanjing experience, it sent my sense of adventure packing. From then on, the old adventurous Priscilla was packed away and a new pathetic Priscilla emerged. Poor M has never seen the old Priscilla. He has only heard of her in the stories that I told him.
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