So this story will continue. Last week I found out that I have been accepted into the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Program. Next month, I will find out exactly where in Japan I will be placed. I arrive in Tokyo on August 5. I plan on arriving in Iowa around July 12.

Last weekend I went to Heijing, an ancient village in the Chuxiong Mountains, about a six hour train ride from Kunming. There is one train a day there, and I think that's the only way to get there. When we arrived at the station, we were met by a multitude of horse carts which took us about a mile to the city gates. We crossed Five Horses Bridge and entered the village proper. Heijing is known as a "salt city." The salt mines have been used for hundreds of years. Even Marco Polo supposedly commented on them. There is one main street--no cars in the whole place lined with lanterns and wooden buildings. The town is not quite that touristy, nothing like Dali, although tourism is the mainstay of the economy. At night the town comes alive with folk dancing and traditional music. People break out their traditional costumes (it's an Yi village) and sanxianqings and erhus and play and sing and dance in a circle all night long. Old people and young come out. In the surrounding mountains we met a 100 year-old woman. Apparently the mountains are full of old people--the locals said it was due to the clean air and water. All in all, a beautiful place.

The train ride there was a challenge--it's a local train, stopping about every 10 minutes from here all the way to Panzihua, Sichuan. People are getting on and off all the time, loaded down with bailing wire, boxes of live chickens, people smoking cigarettes, screaming babies, large baskets of vegetables carried on farmers' backs, straw hats.

A couple of weeks ago, Lester invited me with his friend Palindrome to visit Bamboo Temple, on the northwest side of Kunming. We took a minibus up, up, up into the surrounding mountains and explored the site. There is a room full of exquisitely life-sized clay luohan (arhats or noble ones), carved by the master Li Guangxiu between 1883 and 1890. There are surfing Buddhas (standing on blue dogs, turtles, giant crabs), one with very long eyebrows, one with a thin arm stretched all the way into the ceiling! I saw something like this in a cave in Baoshan, but the level of detail capturing the varieties of human expression.

The day after that, I biked to Tanhua Temple, whose pagoda is within view of my apartment. The grounds are very peaceful--people playing majiang & cards, sleeping in hammocks--so I sat down at a picnic table and started correcting student essays. Soon I noticed people hovering over me and looking over my shoulder, trying to read the students' text. There is no privacy in China! I quickly finished my work and climbed up to the top of the pagoda, which I hadn't done since my first week here. I was much more familiar with the city and could recognize many sites. I even could see my apartment from the tower. Looking downtown, I saw the familiar Industrial and Commercial Bank of China's spiral-top skyscraper along with all the other massive buildings that make up a booming city of 3.5 million.

I have witnessed so much change here in less than eight months. Buildings going up and down. My favorite hot pot place is now a pile of rubble, along with the rest of the city block. The landscape is constantly changing as familiar landmarks go down, replaced by new multi-story apartment complexes and office buildings. We are in the middle of the largest human migration in history--the flight of the rural Chinese to urban areas. There must be housing and facilities for all these people, so progress continues at an astounding rate. I have gotten used to living in a construction site. Even the shortcut I used to take home is now a foundation for a new building.

I saw a jazz concert a few days ago. It was put on at Nordica, a Swedish-run cultural center/cafe/art gallery/(and what I strongly suspect to be an underground church). The musicians were all Chinese, teachers at Yunnan Normal University (Teacher's College). I was greatly impressed with the skill and intensity of the piano-bass-drum trio. They even brought on a professional singer (Chinese) who brought the house down. It was an amazing event, and my first time to see jazz in a long time.

A couple of weeks ago, I was getting short on money (due to my Guam interview). Suddenly, the office manager, Wendy, of the Foreign Languages Department called me. "I haven't seen you for a long time," she said. Then she gave me 570 yuan for giving a guest lecture and judging some speech contests last semester. I immediately went to Mandarin Books (by far the best English language bookstore in Kunming) and bought Atop an Underwood, the early writings by Jack Kerouac. Then I went to Prague Café and had a pizza and some beer.

I am very sad to be leaving Kunming in July. I was seriously thinking of staying at least another year, but I worked so hard to get into this JET Program, and it's a big deal--less than 25% of applicants make it in. Also, Yuka said she'd go with me wherever I end up in Japan, and I can't pass that up. I miss her too much. But I will make the most of my time here in China, and will sure to be back as soon as possible, you can count on that.

There is something about Asia that I've really grown to love, something that keeps drawing me back, and it's not just the food. It's the people, of course, but I can't seem to put it down precisely. I just know the draw is there, and if anything, is growing day by day. In four months, I will be in Japan, trying to speak Japanese once again, eating okonomiyaki, hopefully sending emails back about the strange and exciting and wonderful experience of there, too. But also with a tear in my eye for China, for it will be sad to leave and you know I love it dearly, a love like that of a native son's.