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Here I finally am, writing the last quarterly report I will ever write for Grinnell Corps. During the semester, when there is so much going on around me, I often feel that I should be using my time here to experience as much of China as I can rather than reflecting and writing about it. I do realize the importance and therapeutic value of this reflection, though, and my reluctance to even begin this report is due to a different reason: I know that it signifies my time in Nanjing is coming to a close and a chapter of my life is ending. I can no longer convince myself that I still have lots of time to do everything I want to do, to see all the things I want to see and to eat whatever delicious food strikes my fancy on any particular day. I still DO have time (almost a month) to get my fill of China before I leave, but compared to the amount of time I have already spent here, it seems like only a moment.

I have reflected about the people I've met, the ways I have touched my students' lives and the ways they have touched mine, the places I've been, the things I've learned, the people I have loved, the experiences we have all shared and the life that I have built here. All these things make it difficult for me to come to terms with the fact that I will soon be gone. Sometimes when I'm confronted with this reality I have found myself so overwhelmed by emotion that all I can do is have a good cry. Though draining, this does ground me, centers my mood and allows me to experience China as fully as I can with the rest of my time. My impending transition seems to always lurk in the back of my mind and has been more a source of writer's block than inspiration. How can I sum up what have been two amazing, mind-expanding, fruitful, perspective-changing, joyful, challenging, and incredibly enlightening years of my life into one neat, tidy report? As have many Fellows before me, I am finding it to be no small ordeal to write about my experiences while I am still experiencing them. Given my writer's block and aversion to admitting that the end is drawing near, it seems easiest to begin by writing about the past and working my way forward.

My Last Semester
After returning from our winter break travels, Vicki and I swapped classes for the new semester. Even so, I still began the spring term having already taught about half of my "new" students during the previous year. Rather than making my semester easier, though, classes with these students seemed comparatively challenging. Problems I encountered last year as an inexperienced teacher-uncertainty and lack of knowledge in classroom management techniques, for example-recurred this year; students already bold from my first year's leniency came ready to test boundaries even more during my second year. I think I may have also become over confident in my teaching abilities, which only made me more frustrated when disruptive students gave me trouble. In my most problematic class, their behavior got to be so bad that I had to have a very stern talk with them before class even officially began the following week. I put on my best "teacher face," used my best "teacher voice" and warned them that if they continued t o be disruptive, I would deduct points from their class roster. Much like house points in Harry Potter's school, Hogwart's, each class has a running tally of points that are recorded daily on a board near the school gate that everyone sees when they enter or leave. Although this may not seem like much of a threat, it is one of the most drastic things we can do to manage a class without talking to their head teachers. It did seem to do the trick, though-that period was one of my most productive classes I've had with these students the whole semester. Whether or not they will revert to their old ways, however, remains to be seen.

This experience made me realize I have a lot of work to do with my classroom management skills. At the same time, though, I didn't feel too terrible since many of the same lesson plans worked well with the second class. Every class in our school (and I believe, every public school in China) is ranked according to performance through standardized tests, roughly one every three years after grade school. Although we only teach the classes ranked 1st and 2nd (out of a total of eleven), the distinction between these two classes IS significant. During the Chinese equivalent of Senior year, as many as three out of four students from the 1st class would typically get into a university whereas only about a third or half of the 2nd class students would be able to. I suspect the admissions statistics on the other nine classes is even lower, although I have so far been reluctant to ask my coworkers about it.

I admit that my inexperience probably has a lot to do with not being able to handle both classes equally well, but I also found it interesting that I had the most trouble with the supposedly "best" classes in each age group, rather than those ranked slightly lower. At this point in my teaching career, I can't say whether this is true because I handle students who aren't top performers better or whether the students in the top class have a certain cockiness and predisposition to mischief that makes them more difficult to manage. In an environment where tests count for 100% of a student's final grade, it may also be that the students who are the best test takers are not necessarily the most engaged.

I have pursued different goals and skills in each grade level throughout the year, but this spring I have especially tried to focus on helping my students exercise their creativity; they don't seem to have this opportunity in many of their other classes. Among my younger students, this has taken shape in the form of a poetry unit (much of which was inspired by Josh Blue's old lesson plans). We have considered the way words sound through working with rhyme, have played with language by making up ridiculous words and have simply become more comfortable in describing things. I can't wait to see their final projects, in which students will illustrate and use their own made-up word in a rhyme, after next week.

In my older students' classes, having a visitor proved to be a welcome change of pace, though I can't say my students really livened up that much until I informed them that Cathy, my "guest," happened to be my girlfriend. After they recovered from the "teachers don't have girlfriends or boyfriends!" shock, they couldn't stop asking questions. Before this point, I had hesitated to broach the topic of dating in class due to concerns over wrongly assessing what would be appropriate for a classroom setting in a Chinese high school, sensitivity to my student's self-consciousness and a general caution for respecting cultural differences. However, taking the focus off the students for a class and putting it on someone else provided a comfortable environment for them to finally talk about dating, something as interesting to teenagers in China as it is to those in the United States. Challenging questions like "how much do you love Mr. T?" or "will you please tell us when (not 'if'!) you get married?" poured out of their normally reticent mouths. I was also impressed by questions that were challenging in different ways, such as "what do you think about the role of the law in Chinese people's lives?" or "how can Chinese people improve themselves?" With our remaining class time, I plan to have groups of my Senior 1 students instruct the rest of their class on how to survive certain "Worst Case Scenarios," a lesson that was popular last year with the current Senior 2's, who will be looking over brochures brought back from the States to create short advertisements.

Service and Guanxi
One afternoon I had the fortune to meet a high school student from the drama school on the outskirts of town when she appeared at NDFZ #11 to ask if I could come to her school's English corner on Friday afternoon. She was so nice and sincere in her request that I agreed to do so the following week even though it conflicted with my regular schedule of morning Chinese classes. Despite the school being a 50-minute car ride away, I am very happy that I decided to go; many of the students were absolutely thrilled that I came, and that day's English corner must have been attended by over a hundred students. This is a large number to begin with, and an even larger number proportionally, than the number of students who come to the English corners Vicki and I hold every Wednesday at school. After being dropped back off in front of NDFZ, I couldn't help but reflect on the service aspect of my Fellowship in light of this experience.

In the U.S., I think a relatively small number of people would be interested in talking to a native speaker of a European language, much less an Asian one. But in Nanjing, where students are ranked every three years based on Chinese, English and Math tests, and where every student who wishes to apply for a public University (average admission rate of 12.5%) must take a four day exam with English as a main component, knowledge of English translates directly into opportunity. Even post-graduate job offerings may hinge on language ability. I think Jack, one of my oldest foreign friends in China, best summed up this situation last semester: "There are kids who live on the edge of town who would give anything to be friends with a native English speaker. But people who live close to foreigner hang-out spots like Skyway's and Xi Yuan are the ones who actually end up with all the 'foreign friends.'"

My experience with the drama school and its students corroborates this, and I see the time I spent there as a valuable service, one which was greatly appreciated by the students and teachers alike. I certainly felt better appreciated at the drama school's English corner, where nearly a third of the students in the entire school showed up when I came, than I have at NDFZ, where Vicki and my English corners are typically attended by less than one percent of the school's student body. During the two years I have been teaching at NDFZ, where students are accustomed to seeing foreign teachers nearly every day, I have never once received a hug from a student, but I did the first time I visited the drama school. Thanks to my extracurricular activities at Grinnell, I was familiar with general issues surrounding community service and realized that doing service internationally would be different from doing so in the States (as I had attempted to do so in Tanzania). But I was unable to see how doing service in Chin a would translate before I arrived. Even now, I'm only beginning to understand how this works because it seems like service, as with most things in China, is closely tied to the concept of guanxi.

As far as I know, there are few humanitarian organizations in China. On a typical trip from Xi Yuan to the Nan Da main gate for dinner, I might be approached by as many as three or four beggars asking for spare change. I'm told they are so prevalent in cities nowadays that they often form into a loose kind of union. Regardless of one's opinion about what should be done for these people, I get the impression that neither the government nor any other organizations have been able to effectively address this kind of problem. As a foreigner I sometimes feel like my hands are tied since I am not allowed to participate in organizations without risking my visa and my right to stay in the country. However, that is not to say that people here do not help each other. In the West, many live by a "do unto others as you would have them do unto you" rule to spread goodwill through the general population. In China, a similar philosophy seems to accompany guanxi, which provides a more focused, personal approach to help ing others.

A school such as NDFZ #11 that has a special relationship (guanxi) with western partners is consequently able to give its students special exposure to native speakers of foreign languages. Although I don't know what the Grinnell Corps-Nanjing program was like in its infancy, one can easily see how it has positively impacted the school where we teach. NDFZ is one of only a few schools (and to my knowledge, the only public school in Nanjing) that can boast having two foreign teachers on staff every year for almost 20 years-something that many universities do not have. Furthermore, it is able to nominate one of its graduating students to compete against three others for the Nanjing Special Scholarship to attend Grinnell-the kind of opportunity many students (and their parents) dream of.

The drama school, on the other hand, is in the process of establishing this kind of guanxi, but at the moment is unable to offer its students the same chances that more well-connected schools can. Located almost a full hour's drive away from the foreigner-rich area around Nanjing University, it is also much more difficult for students who attend this school to even meet foreigners than it is for those who can walk up to the Xi Yuan stoop and strike up a conversation with anyone who is sitting around.

I still greatly enjoy English corners at NDFZ; it gives students we don't directly teach (i.e. classes ranked third through eleventh) the chance to practice their English if they so choose. It has served as a great forum for showing baseball to the rest of the school, and it always warms my heart to know that if we're more than two minutes late, the English corner regulars will climb five flights of stairs to our office in search of us. I have been asked some of the most surprising questions during English corner, sometimes by students I have never taught; the most recent one that springs to mind being "so, is Taiwan a country?" But I do want to remind future Fellows to consider the service aspect of this Fellowship, especially in the light of what seems to be NDFZ's growing prosperity. I know how unnatural it feels to be asked to "have an English conversation" with someone or how exhausting it is to be targeted for tutoring jobs and invited to English corners because one is a foreigner. But just remembe r that a little good, or guanxi, can go a long way and can go even farther in places that have little access to foreigners and the opportunities we are perceived to bring. Be patient with people who approach you and invite you to their English corner. They may be students who would give anything to have what the students at NDFZ #11 have every week.

The Great Outdoors
…have been, well, great! I've gone to the Purple Mountain greenery area several times, visited Mei Hua Shan (Plum Blossom Mountain), picnicked in public parks around the city and taken time to read for pleasure on the Nan Da campus much more than I did last year. This has been a wonderful way to remember that even though construction has dirtied the area around Xi Yuan for the past few years, there are still plenty of beautiful places left in Nanjing.

I have also tried to take advantage of my remaining time here to travel as much as I can while the spring weather lasts, now that I have almost two years of Chinese know-how under my belt. Nanjing's central location along the coast and its proximity to Shanghai makes traveling to a variety of interesting destinations relatively easy, often only an overnight train ride away. During the mid-semester break and the May 1st holiday (International Labor Day), I visited two cities-Qingdao and Xiamen-which, although separated by a considerable distance from each other, were otherwise similar in many respects. Both were port cities with semi-colonial pasts, beaches, excellent air quality and great seafood. Consequently, I spent much of my time away from Nanjing outdoors as well.

During our mid-semester break, Vicki and I took an excellent sleeper bus to Qingdao, an old German leased territory brimming with beaches, beer, Bavarian architecture and brides. Although I had read about the beaches, beer and architecture before I went, the brides proved to be quite a spectacle. Living in Nanjing has made me familiar with the phenomena of brides and grooms posing for pictures in groups of two or three throughout the city, but I had never seen so many newlyweds in one place at one time before. On a particularly nice stretch of shoreline, I counted no less than fifteen couples all waiting their turns to capture their special event with what was considered to be the most beautiful background scenery. Another time Vicki and I were wandering along a pathway, we had to wait for a full two minutes before the procession of brides, grooms and their enthusiastic photographers passed us by. While the wedding parties may have made it difficult to find a place where we could enjoy the ocean view, th ey did, at least serve as a testament to our good taste-the city must be pretty beautiful to attract dozens upon dozens of people willing to wait their turn for a wedding photo shoot. As we found out, the city itself has a great atmosphere; the Bavarian architecture, great tasting, fresh-out-of-the-ocean seafood, and air quality were a wonderful break from Nanjing.

The next day, we met another traveler who only had a total of six hours in the city before leaving. Despite our new friend wanting to do a sizeable amount of touring during a short time, we were still able to enjoy a pleasant stroll through back alleys and take in the architecture that makes the city so noteworthy. During our whirlwind tour through the city, the three of us walked the length of the pier pictured on the Tsingtao beer bottles we had been drinking from all year long and visited a towering Catholic church as well as a German governor's mansion so extravagant that its excess later got him sacked. Of course, no visit to Qingdao would be complete without a tour of the brewery; for anyone who might be interested, the beer tastes MUCH better from the brewery than it does from the bottle. Before we returned to Nanjing, we also walked through a very nice sculpture park and saw the city from the vantage of a hillside Buddhist temple.

My second big trip, over the week-long May 1st holiday, was with my girlfriend to another ex-treaty port, although this time in the opposite direction-south to Xiamen (Amoy). We spent roughly equal amounts of time between the island of Xiamen itself and Gu Lan Yu, a smaller island only five minutes away by ferry. Like Qingdao, both places enjoy low levels of pollution and abundant opportunities to sample a variety of excellent seafood. On Gu Lan Yu, Cathy and I enjoyed eating at places we dubbed "squirmy tub" restaurants, where the workers helped us select the liveliest of a given type of sea creature from the middle of a squirming mass. The first time we tried them out, we were lured in by a particularly enthusiastic server who reached into one of the plastic red tubs to brandish a flapping stingray at us as we passed. That was all it took before we were hooked on "squirmy tub," as much for the ambiance as for the food itself. Xiamen and Gu Lan Yu have their fair share of nice beaches, but offer even m ore than Qingdao in terms of scenic spots. On the main island, there was a Buddhist temple and one of the best botanical gardens I have seen in China-it even had a shade garden, a rainforest area and an impressive cactus house. The smaller island was covered in rolling pathways and Mediterranean-style architecture reminiscent of Qingdao, although no building matched the Catholic Church or the governor's mansion I saw earlier for size.

We also had time for a day trip to Chongwu, a city with long stretches of its ancient walls still intact and a sculpture park with more recent stonework. But one of the things that made Xiamen so remarkable to me was the previous western influence that could still be seen today, especially on Gu Lan Yu. We saw Christian churches, western-style cemeteries, a pipe organ museum(!) and, probably my favorite thing on the island, an antique piano museum. As an amateur pianist myself, I found it incredible to see what must have been 70 or more antique pianos on five floors in two buildings, most of which were from the 19th century. I was mesmerized by the plethora of shapes and sizes the pianos came in, but my favorite one was a piano designed to fit in the corner of a room, with the keyboard bent at a 90 degree angle in the center. With the two candelabra attached to it, the piano looked like it belonged in a haunted house rather than an island museum. Back in Xiamen proper, I was amazed by the extent that mo torcycle sidecars were still in use, some of which appeared to be antiques as well. It was also nice that small children didn't cry aloud in horror at our appearance as they often seem to do (even in Nanjing), and I was dumbstruck by the first parking spaces and meters I can recall seeing in China. As a special economic zone, the city seems to cater to rich tourists, Chinese and foreign alike. The only problem I experienced the whole time was related to this-altogether, it took nearly an entire day to find an affordable place to stay for the week, and even then it cost more than I had expected. Part of the reason for this may be because it was the May 1st holiday, but then again, I didn't have nearly so much trouble the last time I traveled during a National holiday. Overall, it was a very nice trip, and more genuinely relaxing than most of the other traveling I have done.

After being here for two years, I have had the chance to revisit some incredible places. The school took all the teachers on a day trip to Yangzhou (my third time), where we spent an afternoon around the lovely Slender West Lake and wandered along streets beside the city's canals. Vicki and I also had the chance to climb Huang Shan with several of our mutual friends. I first went with Katie at about the same time last year, but it was nice to return with a larger group of people and see the area under different weather conditions. The first time, Katie and I had some great views of dramatic rock formations against the clear blue sky almost everywhere we looked. This time, it was just as wonderful to gaze out from the peaks and watch clouds swirl around these formations in the ocean-like way Huang Shan is famous for.

2 Years
Being able to revisit places again and come away with a deeper appreciation of their uniqueness is something I would not have been able to do without the benefit of two year's time here. It took most, if not all, of the first year for me to gain a functional understanding of how things work in China, in Nanjing and at the school where we teach. I was able to start off my second year with a basic knowledge of the language and more importantly, the culture. All these things gave me an increased sense of stability and confidence that was lacking during my first year, and contributed to making my second year so good. Without a second year I wouldn't have been able to watch one of my closest Chinese friends care for his all-important only child during her first year of life. I wouldn't have had the chance to visit a peer's apartment and see how a Chinese person my own age lives. I certainly wouldn't have been able to travel as far and wide as I have and to see so many new places like Inner Mongolia, Sichuan, the Three Gorges, Qingdao and Xiamen, to name just a few. I couldn't have had such a great year in the classroom or experienced the kind of comfort with teaching that I struggled for during my first year. I never would have been able to celebrate Chinese New Year with a student and her family, learned how to make jiaozi (Chinese dumplings) or been able to study two kinds of martial arts. I couldn't have begun and built upon friendships with so many people from different countries or become nearly so close to all the people I will soon say "good-bye" to. I wouldn't have been able to witness an American election from abroad or had the chance to serve as a cultural ambassador for another year. Before coming back a second time, I never would have believed just how quickly China is changing or have imagined how my neighborhood could be rearranged so quickly and with such little notice.

I can honestly say that my second year has just flown by; it seems like it was only last month that I was playing the old vet, showing people around and eating at restaurants that are all gone now. When I was trying to decide whether to stay here for another year, one of my friends told me many people's second year is better than their first. My first year will always be endowed with a certain magic, as I first made my way through a completely foreign country and slowly started to find my way. Since I had been mentally preparing to go back to the States at the end of my first year, it took a little adjusting to come back to China for the second. But overall, I would say that my second year was even better than my first because I had so many fewer problems and hardships. In addition to helping me avoid such pitfalls, the extra year of knowledge and experience also made it easy to make new friends as old ones gradually trickled away. Helping people as they arrive, in addition to being fun, is a great way to make friends at the beginning of the year.

I realize that part of the idea of Grinnell Corps is to expose as many Grinnellians to this international service experience as possible, but I think it would be incredibly helpful to both our work site and the Fellows themselves to have the option of serving two years. It is easy to see how a second year has benefited me and how having an experienced guide could really help fresh arrivals avoid common pitfalls. Through my own experience, though, I also know how a new Fellow can enrich the older Fellow's year. Although I did not doubt the committee would select an outstanding replacement for Katie, I was unable to foresee how Vicki would make my year so fresh and dynamic. During our first year, Katie and I had inevitably grown used to certain aspects of daily life in China-doing certain things, eating specific dishes and going out to our favorite restaurants. So it was wonderful having Vicki here to remind me of things I had originally marveled at myself, to bring fresh ideas and perspective to Nanjing a nd to laugh at things that might have otherwise made me frown. Having Vicki here has allowed me to get more out of my year than I otherwise would have; needless to say, I am a big fan of seasoned Fellows and green ones having the chance to work together and learn from each other.

After China (AC)
It seems cliché to say that spending two years in China has changed my life, but I feel like this is the only way to express how the past two years have impacted everything from my perspective to my paradigms. I've undergone a qualitative change in my life, one that will make me think of nearly every event in terms of whether it came before or after my time in China. I find it much easier to understand why people from other countries might see Americans in an uncomplimentary way and am better able to comment on the veracity of such preconceptions. But I also feel like I have been able to challenge typical stereotypes through my own example (people don't necessarily take me to be American at first glance) and widen people's perspectives on the spectrum of U.S. citizenry (like the time I was interviewed by University students). I now find it difficult to understand how someone would need anything besides a bike or motorcycle as a primary means of transport, regardless of the heat, cold or rain and have some how come to think of cities with "only" 4.6 million people as "quaint." I've been surprised about the extent to which these changes have happened just during this year; I wonder if I would even have been capable of knowing how much a second year would affect me at the end of my first…

I am also apprehensive about returning to the States; I wonder how I will relate to my native country and what it will be like to remember how to use a fork and knife or get used to not causing traffic accidents by walking down the street. I have experienced my fair share of negative discrimination in China based on nothing more than my status as a foreigner, even though it seems like differential treatment works to my advantage more often than not. Although it was aggravating at first (and still can be) I think I have come to enjoy all the special attention I get just because of my appearance. Who wouldn't enjoy being offered free fruit, French fries or beer the instant they set foot in a bar? I sometimes worry about not having constant access to a giant thermos full of boiling water to make tea or instant noodles. I wonder less about the ways the country has changed since I've been gone (though undoubtedly, it has), than I wonder about how much I've changed since I was there last. Will I feel like an outsider when I return to being in the majority again? Will people look at me sideways if I relax into a China squat instead of sitting down? Will I be able to relate to anyone who has not gone through a similar, international experience? How will I possibly keep myself from being bored after leaving such an exciting place? Thankfully, I DO, at least have an answer to that question.

Starting June 20th (I still can't believe it's only a few weeks away!) I will begin Harvard's Teacher Education Program in pursuit of a Master's in Teaching. My time here has confirmed that I really do want to teach, specifically in an urban setting, when I return to the States. At this point, I don't feel ready to leave China yet. I've become so comfortable in Nanjing that leaving the city will be like leaving my home. I have lived in this same room for the past two years, a longer amount of time than I have lived in any other room since high school. While I regret having to leave, I am also getting more and more excited about the program I will be starting. I'm looking forward to moving to a new city, meeting new friends and having a new beginning in the States. Although I am a bit anxious about starting my program jet-lagged, I think the quick transition will be good for me. It will help to be a part of what sounds like a close cohort of people making similar transitions, and doing so quickly won't leave much spare time for me to miss China.

I realize that I have been very fortunate to have two years here and am incredibly grateful I have been able to experience Nanjing, China for so long. During my two years, I have seen Chinese script come to life with meaning and old grannies cross four-lane highways without a crosswalk in the middle of rush hour. I've come to an intuitive understanding of the chaotic traffic flow and how to safely weave through it every day. I've been to Chinese punk concerts where the drummer smoked a cigarette during his solo and have thrown snowballs made of flakes collected from my bike raincoat. I've seen Shaolin temple monks use their bare hands to scoop pieces off concrete landscaping bricks like forks with a baked potato. I've watched my understanding of guanxi open doors and more often, my lack of understanding close them before I even know what's happening. I've marveled at how someone could talk on a cell phone while they drove down a street…on a bike. I am still struggling to reconcile my having ridden in a jaguar to tutor the son of two wealthy businesspeople with the existence of so many homeless and beggars in a communist country. I've been soothed by familiar tunes from passing trucks as they water the street outside our dorm, and watched in amazement as two KFC workers taught a group of children to dance to the song I know as "Yankee Doodle Dandy." I've eaten dog and scorpions, and dozens of other dishes that five years ago I didn't even realize were "food." I've learned how to play Mah Jong and erhu, and have led an active, healthy lifestyle. I've stared down a charging bus from the middle of the road and a classroom full of disgruntled students and still can't decide which is more frightening. I've seen more things transported on the back of a bike than I had ever thought possible-20 car tires, 113 Liters of water, 20 live ducks and even a kitchen sink-and I want to stay here and see more.

I feel like no matter how much I write about my experiences, it will only convey a small part of what China is really like. I have had an incredibly memorable, worthwhile and exciting experience. But I also know that it wouldn't have been nearly as positive without so many people's help, support, advice, kindness, friendship and guidance. First and foremost, I want to thank the committee for offering me another amazing year in China and Doug for his dedication and hard work. Thanks to Chris Connelly for showing me how to develop my voice, to my students for teaching me what Nanjing's youth are really like, and to all the people who have showered me with random acts of kindness that have helped me through my "China Days" on the road, at school, and at Xi Yuan. Thank you to everyone who has called, e-mailed or sent a package or letter. I'm sorry I've been so slow at responding and hope to be able to write more frequently once I return to the States and get back into a more predictable, western, schedule. Thank you to my family for always listening to my worries and for not letting me forget where I have come from, even after living on the other side of the world for so long. Cathy, thank you for being such a wonderful part of my second year, for helping me laugh when I have needed to, for meeting my Chinese family and for brightening my day with your smile. Thank you, Vicki, for making my second year so vivid and memorable, for always being there whenever I have needed you and most of all, for being a great friend.

I could go on thanking people forever, but somehow it seems right that I should finish by thanking China. Thank you for lulling me to sleep with the hum of heavy machinery, for offering a seemingly endless expanse of places to explore and people to meet, and for never letting me get truly lonely. Thank you for every student who lights up when they see me, for all the banquets, the laughter, the tears, the politeness, the train rides, the pictures and poses, the promotions, the shrimp bowls, the stories and memories, the ever-changing cityscape and for seeing me safely through it all. Thank you for the time to take long backpacking trips, and for the massage waiting at the end. Thank you for showing me that there is still a place in the world where practically anything can be fixed as long as it is in a recognizable state of repair, for playing jokes on me and showing me how to laugh at them later. And thank you for giving me the benefit of the doubt much more often than I have deserved.

I've put off finishing here for almost 23 pages, and I'm still reluctant to go. But deep down I know that now is a good time to do so, while I am still enthralled with the country and want to come back. It won't be long before I leave, but even now there are things I am looking forward to before I go. I hear that the subway is open for touring and want to see what all the noise (mostly of the construction variety) over the past two years has been about. I definitely DO plan to return some day; I've invested too much of myself in Nanjing and been affected too deeply to just pack up and leave, never to return, after my time is over. And while I am sad to be leaving, it makes me happy to know that another generation of Fellows will be able to come and have their own experiences for the next year and in the years to come. Congratulations to Lara and Julia! I hope you're both getting excited about next year-it's an absolutely amazing experience! And for anyone else who is still reading, you should come to China, too. At the end of eight reports, I still think it's impossible to really know what China is like without experiencing it yourself. It's something that has changed my life and I'm sure would change yours, too. If you're interested in having a guide, look me up. I can't wait to experience China all over again. The fact that it will undoubtedly be different each time I return is a big part of the charm for me. China's ever-changing banquet of experiences will keep me coming back for seconds (and thirds) as surely as I'll crave eating real Chinese food and using chopsticks once I leave.