a little bit of extraordinary

This morning when beautiful Catherine went to work, I walked toward the "Octagon" at the center of Dunedin . . . into a lot of stores that sold jewelry, pottery, gifts, and merino clothing . . . and then out again, empty-handed, every time, despite the fact that Christmas is coming, much of it was very nice, and some even locally made.  But my suitcase space is limited, and (are we paying attention?!?) everything is just so much cheaper in the US. I assured myself I'd buy nice, locally-made things back home, but only what I need, and what will last. (Thank you, Patagonia, for your initiative.)

The last store I walked out of was on a corner across from the train station.

Dunedin train station

On the sidewalk in front of me I saw a Chinese student who, at least from the back, looked a lot like Jeff, a friend from Nanchong. This guy was waiting at the stoplight, so I had a moment to decide whether to walk up behind him and awkwardly peer round at his face to confirm . . . or just walk away. I knew Jeff was on working holiday in New Zealand, but this guy looked a bit too clean-cut. A bit too run-of-the-mill-Chinese-tourist with his backpack and jeans. I remember Jeff wearing a colorful cloth bag from Thailand slung over his shoulders, and his hair slightly long. It didn't seem likely, but I checked anyway, just to be sure.

It was him, of course.

You know when something so extraordinary happens that you struggle to even acknowledge it? As if you know any reaction you produce will not measure up to the moment, so you just sort of shrug, and walk down the street. It was like that as Jeff and I hugged, found a place for coffee, caught up on travel and plans, walked back through the Octagon, bought strawberries on the street, shared a plate at the Chinese fast food restaurant, wandered through the Cadbury factory free exhibit, until we eventually parted ways. Every so often during the afternoon, one of us would remember, and exclaim a bit, because it felt like something to be exclaimed at, and we'd just shake our heads and laugh.

It's not like he's just another student from Nanchong (he was never my student, in fact). Jeff was an ultimate frisbee player, a volunteer, one of the only Chinese students I know who's actually interested in working with NGOs, he carried bags from Thailand! He spent his summers during university connecting with other students in international camps. He even held a fundraiser (unheard of in Nanchong) to send himself to one.

Since moving to New Zealand in July, Jeff has worked selling pies, washing dishes, cleaning fish, and making Christmas cookies. He hitchhiked from Christchurch to the Southernmost tip of the South Island and says he's not worried about finding the next job. He's found that it's mainly luck and timing anyway. When his friends back home say they're jealous of his life of adventure he asks, "then why not join me here?" So far, none have taken him up on the suggestion.

At some point during the day, Jeff had reminded me that I could be working to help connect Chinese students with Western language schools and universities eager to have them. It's an idea I'd been thinking about when I first moved to Sydney, but hadn't acted on much since. With his reminder, I got curious about the idea again. . . and mentioned it to Catherine when I got back to her workplace . . . the language learning center attached to the university. She promptly went and knocked on some doors and within an hour I'd been introduced to the CEO, met with the head of marketing, and as it happened that the woman who manages the Chinese market is in New Zealand for the week, I met her too, and learned all about their system for recruitment. It was all a little overwhelming. It was that kind of day.