A Glimpse Into the Fellows' Travel Journals

One of the common denominators of this trip (and all Caldwell Fellows trips) is that everyone keeps a journal, each in one’s own style. In one of our pre-trip sessions, we explored how to use journaling as a means of reflection, more than a simple record of activities. Folks have taken the recommendation to bring unlined journals and not to be confined by the routine of filling in lines of text. What has emerged is a collection of well-worn books of various size and style tucked under arms and into backpacks as we move through our days. They bulge with mementos (ticket stubs, receipts, random artifacts) pasted in among written words and sketches. We have a fair number of design students among us whose propensity to fill their books with sketches has rubbed off on everyone else. We talk about sketching as a vehicle to paying attention to detail and to “being present.” Being in a place of such grand sights, we cannot escape the fact that part of who we are here is being tourists. So, we strive to redefine how to be a good tourist.

Here are excerpts from a few journals:

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What is autism? More importantly, how does one cope with a person with autism? How does a child or adult with autism cope and interact?

I sat there with four Caldwells, four children and five teachers. The teachers wore matching pink polo shirts, standing out against the brightly colored walls, tables, chairs and bookshelves. The tables had scars from previous battles against an array of colored markers. Each child was 4 or 5 years old and wearing a navy blue uniform, reminding me of what a sailor would wear. We sat among the kids as they trained their hands and eyes, making bracelets with bright colored beads and turning dough and a mixture of vegetables and pork into the tasty art of dumplings.

The children would talk, some more than others, yet not to each other. The teachers are like mentors, mothers, guides. They are playmates and providers of comfort. Tiny hands push into the dough, feeling the inside of the wet, floury ball.

I helped one kid with his bracelet, handing him beads. He would grab them out of my hand and say “sank you,” one of the few things he would say along with his numbers 1 through 10. “Sank you,” he would say in his soft little voice. He would repeat it again, “sank you.” “Sank you.” He loved the phrase, repeating it primarily for his own ears to hear. Each time he would say it a soft giggle followed, just a small one, a soft one, before another bead fell down the string.

What was the point of a day with these kids . . . . an experience for them? . . . . or an experience for me? -Wren

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When I first arrived, I was placed with the least responsive child, a 5-year-old boy with severe autism. My initial reaction was to want to be with the most responsive, alert child – maybe I thought I would get the most out of it and feel accomplished and warm inside from all the interaction. After two hours by the side of this child, making bracelets and dumplings (he wanted to eat the raw dough and apparently my finger), exercising and feeding him lunch, I felt blessed to be able to work so closely with this child. His hands, they always wanted my hands. His voice only produced one word. His face was serious and poised, until it began recognizing my face. His little hands and voiceless presence gave me so much more. -Katrina

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“The first time we meet we are strangers, the second time we are friends.” -old Chinese saying quoted to us by members of the Hangzhou Charity organization.

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Experiences are like stars. They shine on their own with their own light, but it is not till you start to connect them into constellations that they really start to mean something. -Van

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The Chinese college student I am having tea with is a real leader on his campus. He is doing a lot of service but coming from a sense of duty and obligation to his country and to his people. What a different and interesting framework . . . . How do I perceive myself in these China experiences? I hope to understand better my relationship to myself. China takes me out of my usual context . . . . to breathe new life. – Dane

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Shanghai possessed an unprecedented energy. Maybe it was the lights or the constant bustle of people, 24 hours a day. Maybe it was the vertical race the skyline participates . . . . Whatever it may be, this city is experiencing a monumental time in history. I felt it in the streets, in the contrast of beggars and businessmen who represent the economical gap in society as communism fades and market forces take over. I felt it as I looked down from 88 stories high into the foundation going up of the tallest building yet for this city. At this turning point, I am blessed to be present to observe all of this.

As I ride past villages in rural areas, it is important to recognize that in China, just like other parts of the world, there are different ways of living. The metropolitan lifestyle in the cities may be “civilized” or “materialized,” but that alone does not constitute happiness or quality of life. -Kristin

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While language appears to separate humans across the globe . . . . I attempt to defray that gap through drawing. (Written in the journal under a sketch of a Home Sweet Home resident, with his signature beside it). -Kristin

Kristin Cunningham