False Endings

So, this past weekend felt ridiculously like the end.  No, I'm not just saying that because I want to get home.  It really really felt like the end.  We had an end of HBA talent night on Saturday, as next Saturday night everyone will have gone their separate ways, and next Friday night, people will have be frantically packing and basking in the glory of their restored capacity to speak whatever language they feel so inclined.

It was gloriously fun.  People sang, danced, performed Chinese Martial Arts.  Pictures below:

(some second year students' interpretation of Romeo and Juliet--HBA style, with a Harvard Juliet and a Yale Romeo)

(Stephanie sings a Chinese Pop Song quite spectacularly)

(me, during the Taichi Performance)

(some of the students who went to Inner Mongolia, and Siodhbhra the HBA secretary, perform a song we learned on the trip)

(me painting a character on Alec's back as a part of the Calligraphy performance.  哈佛北京书院--Harvard Beijing Acadamy--was painted onto the backs of six worthy 男生）

What was the hardest part about the evening was at the end, everyone was taking pictures with the teachers.  It really felt as though we were never going to see them again--even though we definitely had class this morning.  While everyone was smiling and posing, there was still, lying dormant in the back of our minds, the fear of saying goodbye to the second year teachers with whom we have spent so much time and whom we have come to care about so deeply.  Except for the older, American University professors, we don't know if we will ever see these teachers again and it is so very sad.

(me with 冯老师 and 胡老师, two of the three 二年级 lecture teachers)

(me and 杨老师, thanks to whom I was able to buy this qipao!)

The next day, there was an inter-summer-program speech competition.  I did not compete, but a few of my friends and I went to support our classmates as the unofficial HBA 拉拉队 (cheerleading squad).  We used Scott's calligraphy ink and brush (I don't know why he had them with him) to paint black sports stripes on our faces, much to the amusement of our teachers, who hadn't seen such a thing before.  We even convinced a few of them to paint some on as well.  It hadn't occurred to me that this was a very American thing to do.

(HBA's 拉拉队）