Wheaton College - Tower Yearbook (Wheaton, IL)

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Above: The tourists pause by Tokyo's Imperial Palace. Below: Steve Hortegas and Hong Kong friends. Fac- ing Page: The hronze Chung-hwa Buddha in Taiwan. ORIE TAL Even National Geographic Magazine doesn't begin to picture the beauty or the contrasts of East Asia. Stooped workers in rice fields and gray- suited international bankers are both distinct, vital forces in Eastern culture. Experiences alien to other Wheaton programs kept the trip ex- citing and unpredictable for Mr. Weber, the Hagners, and the fourteen students. Where else can a student climb a hill overlooking Mainland China and stand for a half hour in the rain taking pictures and dodging the ladies selling paper fans? How many Wheaton students take a quiz on a bus at 5:30 a.m.'? When else can a person OCCIDE

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ARE YOU T KI G ME FOR GR ITE'?,' Granite changes to gneiss only when it contacts heat and pressure. Black Hills '75 was an intense summer of contact, and all who went came back with a bit of inner metamorphosis. We lived in close contact with profs and their families, those great people of science who took their work so seriously . . . Doc DeVries: Can Doc come out and play? Sure, let me get my soccer shoes! Nancy Perrin: reported kidnap- ping a VW at 2 a.m. finals' night. Dr. Bruce: seen leading his' troop of Bio Beasties Crnajorsl off to the bushlands at 5 a.m. in search of the 50 bugs and 50 birds out there somewhere. Doc Leedy: frequently trailed by a marching line of Bio Beasties singing Happy Little Morons to the tune of Frere Jacques. Doc Van Dyke: overheard giving the Baby Bios Cnon-rnajorsl his famous lecture series on the sex life of the pine cone. Doc Luckman: don't know about you folks, but I certainly don't want to cook out in the rainf' We in turn took our studies very seriously. Is this rhyolitic porphyry or porphyritic rhyolite? Botany kids fell exhausted on the pool deck after a rigorous morning picking wildflowers. One unavoidable area of contact was with each other. Six kids per bunkroom, plus mice and hiking boots, called for close fellowship! With weekly campouts and field trips, we spent hours in the blue Dodge vans, literally thrown together on winding mountain roads. We worked in crews to set up camp and shivered together-10 to a tarp-under the bright Dakota stars. Some of us became instant buddies, others needed a summer of painful growth to reach a casual conversation stage. We contacted Nature, crawling, hiking, tubing, and climbing all over them hills, from the murky depths of Jewel Cave to Harney Peak's summit, from icy Rapid Creek to the jagged cliffs of John- son's Siding. Nature contacted us with a mid- summer tornado that felled trees and whipped tents right out of the ground. These daily contacts-the fellowship, studies of God's beautiful, orderly crea- tion, and quiet times alone-brought us closer to the people and the earth, close to God's own heart. We came back to the indoor campus with fossil bookends, a few cases of poison ivy, and some fresh green leaves of inner growth. j.w.Y

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climb through Buddahls nostril, thereby securing his future in heaven? Temples formed the common element of the countries visited: Zen temples, Shinto shrines, Buddhist temples, and Tao temples. tBy the end of the trip the group referred to this phenomenon fondly as TTT: Taiwan Temple Tor- ture.J The cuisine challenged even the most trained tastebuds. Seaweed soup, fish eyes, octopus, pigeon eggs, and fried red beans we recall as Chopefullyj once in a lifetime gourmet experiences. The distinctiveness of the Orient can- not be expressed by photographs or ar- ticles. The confusing neon signs in characters and the jabber in 4-toned Chinese took away most of the Westerner's security and confidence, but offered a new type of in- dependence. Just walking down the unfamiliar streets provided the plea- sant sensation of exploring the un- known. Like waking in a dream world, the scenes of Asia became vitally alive: 110 degree weather, the smell of open markets, the vibrant colors of Chinese temples contrasting with the subdued simplicity of Shinto shrines. The Orient is unpredictable, beyond systemization. To begin to know it, you must experience it. l l