Name of Author: Katie E. Elliott Date of Writing: April 27th, 1998
Location of Writing: Bell Tower Hotel, Xi’an, China
Type of Writing: An Exciting Start.
When we arrived at the hotel we hurried upstairs to eat our box lunch. An hour later we were on our way again but this time we were walking. This picture was taken at the beginning of our trip. This is a picture of me, Wynn, and Jocelyn in that order. (No my grammar is not that bad, it’s supposed to sound like that). We may look sweaty and tired now but you should have seen us three hours later. During our walk we ventured down a street where almost everything was made from rattan (a type of straw used for weaving objects). We took a few pictures there and then headed on to a food market. We walked through, utterly horrified because they had piles of raw meat that were sitting out in the heat and sun and were probably close to rotting.
Hello everybody! Well, we finally got here. After an excruciating wake up call from my mom and dad at 4am I quickly double-checked what I had packed and we were off. Surprisingly enough everyone seemed to be wide-awake. All too soon we were driving away from our parents and school. All of a sudden I started to get this feeling of uncertainty about whether or not I had chosen the right trip. These fears continued on through the flight but were suddenly ceased as I walked off the plane. The air was warm and dry and the sun was shining brightly down on us. We took our time going through immigration and got on the bus. We drove through the countryside toward the ancient city while the guide explained Xi’an’s history. As she spoke, nameless tombs seemed to appear everywhere; gigantic hills beaten down by the weather of two thousand years. They were still holding that symmetry which is unmistakably the handiwork of humans.
We quickly moved on but soon stopped at an interesting music store where I bought a hat that is used in the traditional Chinese opera (an imitation of course). We then walked down an alley that is known to us as Banner Street. There, we were able to practice our Mandarin by speaking with small children and asking if we could take their pictures. We were pressed for time, so we hurried on our way to the West Gate of the wall surrounding old Xi’an city. We climbed up and rested. Presently an electric cart came along the top of the wall, so we jumped in for a ride around to the South Gate of the city. We then walked back to the hotel and got ready to go to the Dumpling Banquet. Dinner was delicious! I can’t wait for tomorrow!
Name of Author: Wynn Tanner (HKIS 7th Grade Student)
Date of Writing: April 27, 1998
Location of Writing: Bell Tower Hotel, Xi’an
Type of Writing: Perspective of a Vegetable Seller
Ah! I finally get a rest from the morning market! All of those people coming to your shop everyday can get very exhausting. Oh, look, now I’ve got these yellow-haired tourists everywhere. What are they doing with those things in their hands? They’re some sort of black object that keeps flashing. One person would control the black object, another or more would stand in front of it and pretend to look happy.
One girl in particular was looking at my vegetables and commenting something about them to her friend who was yellow-haired, just like her. She looked like she had never been here before so I thought it was pointless to ask her to buy vegetables because she might think they were probably all dirty and not well taken care of. I would never sell my vegetables unless they were certifiably clean, but I doubt that the girl would have ever believed me.
I was surprised when she asked me in Mandarin if she could take my photo (not that I knew what it was) to give to me. I answered in Mandarin that I would love to. I had not expected her to speak my language because I had seen many tourists and they did not speak my language. She aimed the mysterious object at my cart of vegetables and me and, suddenly, a slit of something came out of the front. I didn’t know what it was. But then she asked me if she could do the same thing but keep the "photo". I was so excited about being given what they call a "photo" of me, that I immediately nodded my head, not thinking again that she had asked me in my language. She told me, in Mandarin, to turn my head straight and act like she was not even there. These words, I realized, she had asked the older looking woman that was with her.
I would suppose that the "photo" of me turned out good, I never found out though. I wanted that photo also. I wanted so many photos of me that I could give one to every person in my family. So then, I would always be remembered. But you don’t always have to have a "photo" of someone to remember him or her by. Just like I will always remember that one-day when I met that one yellow-haired girl who gave me my picture.
Name of author: Jocelyn Liipfert (HKIS grade 7 students)
Date of writing: April 27, 1998
Location of writing: Bell Tower Hotel, Xi’An
Type of writing: Perspective from a local Chinese boy; "Confusion"
My tiny, chubby hands were sore and exhausted from the heavy load I was carrying. I was tired and hungry, for I had not probably eaten for a day or two. My family store was not having a very good season. It seemed as though we went many hours without eating a good, nurturing meal.
As I sluggishly brought in the basket carrying the goods, I was pleasurably rewarded with a toy airplane; at least I think that’s what it is called. Sometimes I would hear thunder coming from the sky, and I would look up. The vehicle soaring through the air looked like a bird. I one day asked my mother what it was, and she said it was a plane. The toy my mother handed to me closely resembled the bird-like creation. I ran my dirty, pudgy, mud-covered fingers over the colors decorating the object. The light in our shop wasn’t very good, so I brought it outside into the street.
"Wait, wait!" My mother called to me. I abruptly turned around to face my young mother’s face. She gestured for me to hold out my hand, and I did so. She placed in it a remote control, like the one I had once seen used on a television. "What’s this for?" I inquired. "For your new toy!" I looked down in awe at this. A remote control for a toy? What an idea! Happiness overwhelmed me. I skipped back outside onto the cement and sat down comfortably and began to investigate this creation.
Oblivious to the world around me, foreigners walked circling me, and were staring at me, and smiling. One of them had very strange hair, a color like the sun. It was golden. I looked at her with curiosity, while she stared right back at me with friendliness. My father laughed silently to himself, and one of the foreigners gestured to me with a funny-looking contraption. I had no clue what was going on, and so I went back to the exploration of my mechanical bird.
All of a sudden, flashes of what seemed to be lightning flickered from my right side, and I looked up in amazement. What were they doing to me? The foreigners attempted to say "thank you" in my language, but didn’t fully succeed. I cocked my head in confusion, as the strange people of the sun just laughed, smiled, and walked away.
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