"You are from China?" the gentleman sitting across the room stood up and started walking toward me after our conversation in an East Glacier, Mont., restaurant turned from the weather to where we came from.

"Which China?" he said?

I knew what he was getting at, but just said, "I'm from the northeastern PART of China."

"Really? Red China?" he seemed even more interested.

I haven't been asked that question or heard the phrase "Red China" since I left North Dakota in January 2004. Now more than three years later, as I traveled to Montana to see the Glacier National Park before moving back to China, I felt like I was revisiting rural America, where I spent the majority of my nine years in the U.S.

My conversation with this gentleman, who told me he was a naturalist born and raised in Montana, started with the snowstorm in forecast. I was planning to spend the day at Glacier, but the potential winter storm made me nervous and I was debating whether to leave early. The naturalist was very helpful -- he gave me his newspaper, which carried a story about the winter weather, and talked about the different ways to get to Idaho, where I was headed, and the various possibilities of weather and road conditions.

The "Red China" question came up after the weather discussion. And the gentleman proceeded to say how very few people from "Red China" get to visit the United States.

I just had to correct him. Between 2000 and 2005, about 355,000 people immigrated from mainland China to the United States, and in the 1990s, about 460,000 Chinese immigrated to the U.S., according to official reports. How could this guy think that few Chinese get to come here, I said to myself, annoyed. Does he think the Cold War is still on?

But on second thought, it's normal he holds the opinions he does -- with less than one percent (0.6 percent, to be exact) of Montana's total population of 944,000 being Asian, he probably hasn't seen many Chinese people, let alone talking to them and understanding China.

It'll take many, many more Chinese visitors to the area to change his perception.

今天决定加入一旅行团，游温哥华岛。一大早等着上轮船的时候买了热巧克力和banana bread, 心情很好，回到旅游团的车里，刚坐下，发现前面一个大约4岁的小孩盯着我看。我不知道他什么意思，就回看了他一眼。不料，他伸出手来指着我，大叫：

“妹妹！”

全车的人都把目光投向我，小孩的父母也转过来看，之后赶快把小朋友的手压下去。

郁闷！

＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊

下了轮船，来到了著名的宝翠花园(Buchart Garden)。因为季节过了，游人稀少，而游人中又 有 百分之 八十是中国人，都是跟团而来。有的长的肥得流油的样子，好象人群中也经常有个李总、冯总之类的。

这些人当中，还真有挺恶心的。在公园里大声喧哗不说，还有的在不该上的地方 爬上爬下的。更有甚者，索性在圆中点根烟抽上，害得附近的游客皱着鼻子，尽量躲着他们。。

这些人见了 牌子就大声郎读，有一个女的还指着 一个写着“100％ smoke free area"的牌子大声说， ”百分之百随便吸烟区。“

I'm finally all packed and ready to go.

It's been so busy this week that I have had little time to think. Everyday, I just get up, go to work, come home, work some more, sort my stuff and go to bed. Tonight I finished working at about nine with a couple of my colleagues and several students who participated in my program. It felt like a nice way to wrap up. I got home, took a shower and tried to fit everything into two suitcases and a backpack. I had to throw away a few more things (I feel like the whole month, all I did was getting rid of stuff.). Had Jack Johnson in the background the whole time I was packing, and now that I'm done with everything and have a chance to sit down and be by myself and listen to his music, I realize it's making me a little sad. A good friend sent me all of her Jack Johnson CDs after she got all the songs onto her iPod. Just listening to them brings back so many good memories.

For a moment, I couldn't believe I'm leaving -- and leaving all of this behind. Then, I was amazed at how brave I was. Then I was sad I was leaving. Then I was excited about the new possibilities, about being closer to my family, about finally doing what I've been thinking for years. ... Then, I'm too tired to think or type or sit here. :)

I guess life is like a TV series. As I put a period to my life in the U.S., I'm starting a new season -- a season in China. So this is not the end; this is "To be continued."

千千阙歌

徐徐回望 曾属于彼此的晚上  
红红仍是你 赠我的心中艳阳  
如流傻泪 祈望可体恤兼见谅  
明晨离别你 路也许孤单得漫长  
一瞬间 太多东西要讲  
可惜即将在各一方  
只好深深把这刻尽凝望  
来日纵使千千阙歌  
飘于远方我路上 来日纵使千千晚星  
亮过今晚月亮 都比不起这宵美丽  
亦绝不可使我更欣赏 Ah...  
因你今晚共我唱 临行临别  
才顿感哀伤的漂亮 原来全是你  
令我的思忆漫长 何年何月  
才又可今宵一样  
停留凝望里 让眼睛讲彼此立场  
当某天 雨点轻敲你窗  
当风声 吹乱你构想  
可否抽空想这张旧模样  
来日纵使千千阙歌  
飘于远方我路上 来日纵使千千晚星  
亮过今晚月亮 都比不起这宵美丽  
都洗不清今晚我所想 因不知那天再共你唱 

I've always loved moving to a new place. The excitement of the unknown, the potential for new opportunities and the possibilities for change attract me a great deal.

But moving also comes with a great cost: friends. Each time I move, the friends I hang out with in the evenings and weekends become my long-distance friends. Inside jokes and laughters at dinner tables are reduced to hours of long-distance phone calls. Christmas and New Year's greetings are reduced to a mass email. Birthday celebrations become Borders gift cards ordered online. You see a fraction of these friends every year or every few years if you are lucky, and lose touch with many gradually.

So when I moved again a year ago, I decided not to make any friends, knowing I'd move again. What's the point of making new friends, I said to myself, just to move away from them?

But life is not that simple. You can't just shut the world away. People come into your life somehow. For different reasons you connect with people, even the ones who just provide services to you and do not ask for your friendship -- the hairdresser you see every six weeks, the banker you go to only when you have questions, the maid who cleans your apartment once a month (Ok, this one's made up). So I know when the time comes for me to say goodbye again, I'll be missing my new friends and the people who've entered my life in the past year.

... Sometimes I think of long lost friends from years ago, I think of those who made a great impact on me at one time, I think of the people I loved, and I ask myself, will I ever see them again?

I guess moving isn't so bad after all. Maybe people come and go. Maybe every time I move, I lose touch with some of my friends. But I know deep down in my heart, I have a place for them. And I'll always have the wonderful memories -- even if they'll be fading over time.

最近很忙，要处理的事情很多，头绪也很乱,所以心里开始有点烦。

晚上在家整理东西，突然想起了我在缅因登山的情形。想到自己当时连手带脚，胆战心惊地一个人爬到山顶的情形，忍不住就自己默默的笑了。

当时正值美国劳动节，我刚刚从国内出了一夏天的差回来，很累，很想出去散散心。选则了一直想去的缅因 Baxter State Park —— 户外运动的胜地。

星期六早晨选好了自己要走的trail (主要是因为书上说在这条trail上可以看到moose)，但到了以后却被告知这条trail在早上6点时就已经人满了（为了给游客清静、接近自然的机会，和保护自然，公园管理人员统筹调度，每天只允许很少的人数去每一条路）。 他们告诉我去另一条trail,名叫The Owl,山有1100米高，来回好像是十一、二公里，难度中级，大概来回5小时，我是那天他们让去那条trail的最后一个人，后来才知道，那一天走那条trail的一共才8个人，算我在内6个人登上了峰顶。

每次我提起爬山，总是联想到蓝天、绿树和清新的空气，心中无限神往。可是其实每次过瘾的登山历程、每次能看到无限美景的历程，都是对身体的一种挑战和折磨。

拿这次登山说吧，出发的时候背了几瓶水，一个苹果、一个香蕉、一个李子和几块糖。前半个小时地势比较平，不累，我也兴致勃勃一边走，一边欣赏沿途的景色，还观察各种植物，照了无数的相。接下来的半个小时，坡度明显变陡，一路爬上去，就已经气喘吁吁。在一条小溪前停下歇脚，遇到了一个中年女子，一看就是个real hiker.她友好的告诉我上到山顶用了她两个半小时。

“你用两个半小时，我起码要爬三个半，”我心想。不敢耽搁，穿过小溪，继续赶路。想到5月份有一天爬了9个小时的山，到后来累的包里只剩一瓶水都嫌重，我这次不敢怠慢，赶快拿出包里水果开始吃，以减轻重量。

接下来的路越来越陡，有些地方要爬过接近我人高的大石头。我手脚并用，但没过多久，就开始想退。

还有多远啊？前面还有多少这种石头啊？上去了可怎么下来啊？

我心里越发的忐忑不安，腿已经开始发软，人也喘者粗气，大汗淋漓。身上的疼痛已经从腿转移到后背转移到肩膀、脖子。为了减少重量，水果吃光了，水也喝的只剩2瓶了。可是背包还重的象石头，我真恨不得把相机（小小的傻瓜相机）扔了。

但就是这样，我的脚下却没有停步。不知道为什么，我总是很好奇前面的路还有多难，自己到底能走多远。一路的景色也随着高度的增加越来越美。向上看是石头，向下看是树、远处的山和蓝蓝的湖水和河水。

后来在网上看到一个posting,说人们之所以喜欢爬山，就是因为到了一个高峰，又想看下一个高峰是什么样的，又期待征服下一个高峰。这样就会一直走下去。我觉得说得很有道理。

出发3小时15分钟后，我真的到了山顶。手已经因为扒石头扒的生疼，身上好像也没有舒服的地方。但丛山上俯瞰周围景色那种心旷神怡的感觉却是难以形容，脑子也觉得轻松和清醒了很多。真的没白受累啊。

The mother of a friend of a friend died -- of cancer.

I feel really, really sad and really, really awful. And I know the next thing I'm going to say will make a lot of people uncomfortable, but I still will say it: In a way, I feel somewhat relieved for that friend of my friend.

It sounds insensitive and I probably don't have the right to comment, but if you've been through a major illness as I have, you would know how much the whole process can take out of a person and his/her loved ones. I was lucky -- I went through 14 months of grueling treatment and got better. But a lot of people didn't.

I've seen two of my coworkers (at different jobs) die of cancer. Both had been on and off treatments for more than a year. Both had been told they were getting better at one point. Both fought until the last minute, trying every possible option they had and traveling long-distance to clinics where they hoped miracle could happen. But neither was able to escape death.

The end was always painful. But in some situations, living didn't seem so much better. I've seen a lot of cancer patients' family members. Nobody wants his/her loved ones to die. But everyone sure looks tired from going through the ordeal with their loved ones.

And after seeing all this and been through all that, I ask myself, at what point is life not worth living? How much suffering is too much?

Tomorrow, I'll be going through two very important checkups, and I've been through many like these since my recovery. The results in the past year have always been reassuring -- they show that I'm enjoying good health. But I can't help but wonder, what if the results THIS TIME are bad? What if I get it again?

My natural reaction is to fight like hell. That's who I am -- I'm "strong" (or at least pretend to be. To my doctors, I'm probably a wimp.). I am willing to go through pain to get better. But I also understand the limitations of medicine. And I understand why some people would want to give up, not because they don't value life, or they are not courageous enough. Sometimes, people are simply too tired -- physically and emotionally -- to carry on.

So hang on to the beautiful life you have now, but if one day it gets too hard and you change your mind, I would understand.

The whole time I was walking home from work today, I kept looking up -- at the sky. It was soooooo blue, so clear, with a few white clouds -- like in a picture book. I can't help but wonder how much I'm going to miss the blue skies and clean air here when I move back to China.

I still remember this summer, when I was visiting a friend in Beijing, she looked out the window and said, "Oh, it's sunny out."

I looked out and saw the sky all grey and foggy, with this tiny ray of sun barely getting through the clouds, the smog, the whatever.

I just looked at my friend in disbelief.

She said, "Yeah, we Beijingers are pathetic."

Now I wish I could take a piece of the blue sky with me when I move back -- to share with my friends and family, to remind me of the beautiful places I've been to.

前两天给以前的老板打了个电话。他刚刚退休，所以我想问候他一声，看看他生活怎么样。


退休前，老船长几十年如一日地坚守着他很重要的新闻岗位，他住的那个州不管除了什么事，都是他调遣手下的10来名记者报道，给全国、甚至全世界供稿。有重大突发新闻和竞选时，老船长都要承担起统领的重担，经常工作到深夜。他做事严谨，对手下要求严格，如果我们业务上哪里做的不好，是免不了受他的批评的。所以他手下的记者，有时难免抱怨。


但我在他手下工作的一年多，虽然紧张、劳累，却学到了很多东西。他给了我很多很多的机会，有重大新闻时从不把我当成新人，而总是信任的交给我一些重要任务。偶尔走运的时候，他会亲自坐到我身边改我的文章，让我又领教了他的实践经验。

 老船长虽然严格，却也很有人情味。我第一年拼命加班，想积攒一些overtime好让父母转年来玩。但公司的规定是不可以把假期留到明年的。老板听了我的要求，立刻说他会给我一个破例，还说有多少人的家人在大洋彼岸，说父母来时一定要好好陪他们。

 我们看到老船长一心扑在事业上，近几年又是一个人生活，就不免很担心他退休后的日子。那么爱工作的人，能适应呆在家里吗？他有朋友陪他吗？事实证明，我们的担心是多余的。老船长和我的通话中，说他很enjoy退休生活，现在有时间了，每周都能读5本书，中午经常和朋友出去吃饭，每天也会在美丽的Lake Michigan边上散布。他问我身体怎么样、工作怎么样、家人怎么样。聊半个多小时，没听出他一点不对劲的地方，放心的放下电话。


回头想想，真的很佩服老船长。快乐，不在与你工作多气派，陪你的人多多、或者拥有什么；快乐，在于你去了解自己想要的生活，而去追求那种生活；快乐，在于你适应生活中的各种变化，而去把不可能完全控制的生活变成你自己的生活。

老船长，我向你敬礼了！