A Fat Purple Fig

We are joined each day in Xúzhōu by student volunteers who assist in all things – language lessons, catching public transport, and acting as tour guides par excellence.

They guide us to different parts of the university, for demonstrations of student work, dropping handy directional pins in our WeChat message group.

At the Student Innovation and Training Centre, we are greeted by a pair of robot dogs.

They show off their skills. One of them begs and shakes hands with aplomb, the other…not so much. Our student host tells us that one was programmed by the company, and the other by the students themselves.

‘It not so good,’ he smiles.

We see an impressive range of robots: a two-wheeler that can jump on command without losing its balance, and another that fires small plastic balls up to 25 metres, one per second.

One robot is adept at lifting blocks and slotting them into its chassis, in a nod to the university’s interest in robot mining.

The robots are trained in the use of AI, to best determine how to keep themselves safe.

Wrap your head around that for a moment.

The 3D printing shelf is chock-full of creativity. I spot the car from Back to the Future, and Zoro, from One Piece, on someone’s desk.

A student demonstrates his undergraduate project, a pair of butterfly wings that flutters across the room. After many iterations, the final fabric choice is taken from repurposed clothing.

‘How long did it take to build?’ we ask.

‘Seven months,’ he replies, explaining the lengthy road to refinement.

This flower was crafted by filming all sides of a real flower, growing in the campus gardens, to make a 3D-printed copy that is virtually exact.

It may be my favourite.

Throughout our visit, the robot dog’s feet tap constantly against the tiles as it paces in place, ever-ready.

(I feel inexplicably sorry for it)

As we leave, I enjoy this tattered poster of a robot team triumph.

On the day of our China-Australia Culture Salon, I stay in my room through lunch to create a PowerPoint for the presentation Conall and I are doing on Aussie BBQs. I almost hide out in there for the day, so stressed am I about the prospect of presenting it.

Here, but for partnership loyalty, go I (not that he needs me).

(whatever will be, will be)

There are around twenty Chinese students in attendance (of the 200 who applied).

Dr Zhai Shilei, Director of the Australia Research Centre, calls Australia a ‘blue country’.

‘Blue skies, blue seas, and Jacaranda trees.’

Dr Mingyan Hu, International Convenor at Griffith, inspires with her words about scholarship, and her ten (full) pushups, much to the delight of the audience.

I survive our presentation, without feeling the heat that indicates my face is bright red.

I especially love hearing of Sally’s efforts to change the perceptions of nursing colleagues towards post-partum Chinese women, who avoid showers and cold foods after giving birth.

(Pfft…Aussie BBQs indeed)

Then it is the turn of the Chinese students. We see a performance of wushu, with a snapping red fan, and singing and dancing, in traditional dress.

The Salon is summarised perfectly by this performance, on the pípá.

Finally, Dr Zhai treats us to a song. ‘I am not a good singer,’ he announces, apologetically, before an outstanding voice rings out, rich and true.

The following day, after my HSK exam (dire), Zachary accompanies me back to the hotel in a taxi. We have a truly excellent conversation about languages and dialects, family and study, Chinese culture and policy…and the sound of home.

(simple moments can easily match the grand)

At the School of Architecture, we attend a presentation with traditional Chinese instruments.

Students perform a piece on the Chinese flute and gǔzhēng with their teacher, whose voice I can feel in my bones.

And this ensemble creates a sound that is unlike anything I have heard before.

We are introduced to the biānzhōng, ancient Chinese bronze bells that date back to the Shang dynasty, over 3000 years ago.

It sounds majestic, like a cross between a xylophone and church bells.

Our final activity for the trip is dumpling making. I begin to walk with the group, in the direction of the canteen, then change my mind and slip away.

Instead, I sit here for a bit, watching the students go by, admiring the autumn colours, messaging the girls.

Then, I take the long road home, stopping to take photos of the University by sunset.

(I’m not good at goodbyes, anyway)