Well, it's here. It's finally time to pack our bags and head home. Actually, I've always been a little overzealous in the way of packing--I just can't help myself; I really love it--so we're already packed, technically. Anyway, when we tell people that it's time for us to go we get a lot of the same questions, so I thought it might be helpful to answer a few here.
FAQs:
You're going home after one year. Are you sick of China already?
No! Not at all. It took some initial adjusting, to be sure, but I love it here. There are so many things that we will miss about our life here. The city, our friends, the food, my refrigerator to name a few.
If you like it so much then why are you leaving?
The simplest answer is graduate school. We knew when we decided to come here that we could only stay one year, or two at the most, but we both agreed it was better to come for one year than not to have the experience at all. The tipping point to go home was my decision to go back to school. With both of us pursuing degrees instead of just one, we decided it was time to get started.
Reason #2- Beginning in December, we have at least three weddings to attend this coming year, and the price of flying home for those events would completely wipe us out. And no, crazy incredulous person, I cannot possibly miss any of them. The very idea!
What have you missed the most about America? What are you looking forward to the most about coming home?
Aside from the obvious answer which is people, our families and friends that we've missed like crazy, I would say...the grocery store and my oven. (One does me little to no good without the other). I love to cook, and in many ways living here has made me a much better cook, or at least a more knowledgeable one. Having so few of the things we're accustomed to in America forces you to ameliorate yourself with all kinds of substitutions and new recipe quests, and opens up another world of ingredients. But truth be told, I'd trade the challenge for the conveniences of home in a heartbeat. The idea of walking into a clean, nice or non-smelling grocery store where I can read labels and price tags and buy cheese and cereal whenever I want...that just sounds like heaven to me right now. And Target.
What do you think you will miss the most about living in Shanghai?
Honestly, this is a fabulous life. I love walking around the corner to buy my vegetables in an open air market. I enjoy knowing that prices are never fixed, if you have a will to bargain. I will dearly miss the public transit here. The metro is great, and cabs are cheap too. I'll miss having a fabric market and a country full of tailors at my disposal, even if I don't utilize them very often. I'll miss not tipping and not paying sales tax. I'll miss the marketplaces that spring into existence every day around lunch in our neighborhood and every weekend. I'll miss buying flowers off the back of someone's bike, and I'll miss the rice. It's just different here. I'll miss having Thailand and Cambodia a few hours away. I'll miss our flexible schedules, and of course our friends.
When do you come home, and what are you doing?
Joel and I arrive back in Memphis on Monday, July 11th. We'll scramble around to see everyone and find an apartment to move into in Knoxville before school starts August 17th. Joel is starting his graduate degree in English. My programs is for Speech Pathology.
Are you going to keep up your blog when you come home?
I'm not sure. Here there's just so much to write about. So much time for travel, so many hilariously unusual things....but home is home, and you know it as well as I do.
So how did I do? If you have a question I didn't cover please let me know. I'm happy to answer all inquiries. And if by chance, you're reading this as someone about to move to Shanghai or any part of China, I've compiled a little list of things you might find helpful. Email me and I'll send it your way.
The countdown has begun. We are 13 days away from flying out and 15 days away from arriving home to Memphis. Frankly, I'm perplexed by the two day lag seeing as we're traveling backwards through time, but there you have it. See you soon.
Showing posts with label China. Show all posts
Showing posts with label China. Show all posts
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Great Minds...
A couple of posts back I mentioned that we were going to be doing a little bit of an apartment swap. What we didn't realize was that the move would be pushed until two days before our company arrived.
That was exciting. Here's the new set up.
I guess the saying is true that great minds think alike, because the same week of June my sister-in-law and niece, Sarah and Reed, Bill and Jessica (cousins) and Jon and Mary Catherine (friends!) all decided to come to Shanghai. We had the honor and delight of hosting Sarah, Reed, Bill and Jess here at our apartment. I can't begin to tell you how much fun it was being surrounded by family.
We tried our best to give Sarah a good smattering of the sites of Shanghai. Out we would venture, day after rainy day into the city, umbrellas in hand and little Roo nestled happily in her carrier on Sarah's back. We went to all the markets, our favorite restaurants. Sarah even went with me to buy vegetables from my regular vendors to witness my mediocre Mandarin skills first hand.
Now I must tell you about my favorite new China-life discovery. Think with me for a moment...how many times have you gone to get your hair cut and while sitting at the shampooing sink thought to yourself, "This really would be so delightful if..." If the water weren't so cold/hot. If your neck didn't have to rest right on the rim of that blasted basin. If the person washing your hair weren't quite so harsh with the washing. Well, here in China, I was very pleased to realize that hair washing is a salon offering all of its own, and they have it down to quite the art. Obviously I had to go try it once I heard of its existence.
After carefully rehearsing and memorizing the phrases necessary to request my hair washing, I strode confidently into the salon and said my peace to the obliging salon hostesses who stand in matching Jetsons-esqe outfits at the door to take your hair order, so to speak. I was quite pleased with myself, until I saw that they were sitting me down at a chair in the middle of the salon far away from the sinks at the other end. Drat! Foiled. I hailed a nearby worker and attempted to correct the mistake, but was told no mistake had been made. Before I had time to protest another space-suited employee appeared at my side with gobs of shampoo in one hand and a tiny bottle of water in the other.
Mystified, I watched as she began to slowly lather a small bit of my hair, then more, then more, until I thought my hair could not possibly get any bigger or sudsier-and yet she kept going. More water, more shampoo, until I had the Mt. Everest of suds atop my head, and still no sink in sight! Then, she did the most fantastic thing. She proceeded to make some deft motion and extricated the vast majority of the sudsy mountain into her hands then walked away with it, leaving me alone and still very sudsy in the middle of the salon. Soon after she returned with, you guessed it, more water and more shampoo. Rinse and Repeat. So, yet again I was lathered into a foamy helmet. Eventually it did become necessary to rise all the suds. Once again my spacegirl scooped up handfuls of my suds and I was instructed to follow her (and my suds) back to another room that had the sinks. I was surprised to find even during the rinse I was perfectly comfortable. It sounds very odd I'm sure, but they hold your head with one hand and rinse with the little spout with the other so you don't have to strain to hold your neck up. A few times I instinctively lifted my head so she could rinse the back of my head and I was chastised. "You must relax! " I was told. Ok, if you say so.
After all the suds were gone, and my hair was thoroughly scrubbed to a cleanliness I could never before have fathomed possible, I was led back to my original seat for a five to ten minute neck, shoulder and arm massage. Then, just when I was feeling so relaxed I could have fallen asleep in my chair, I was met with the horrible intrusion of another person spinning a q-tip into my ear. I didn't know what to do with that, so I just sat as still as possible and hoped I wouldn't have any permanent hearing or brain damage. I have since learned how to politely decline this portion of the service, even though I forgot to warn Sarah before we went. Unluckily, she was q-tip attacked while I was still in the rinse portion at the back of the salon, but so far she seems to have survived any permanent damage.
That was exciting. Here's the new set up.
I guess the saying is true that great minds think alike, because the same week of June my sister-in-law and niece, Sarah and Reed, Bill and Jessica (cousins) and Jon and Mary Catherine (friends!) all decided to come to Shanghai. We had the honor and delight of hosting Sarah, Reed, Bill and Jess here at our apartment. I can't begin to tell you how much fun it was being surrounded by family.
We tried our best to give Sarah a good smattering of the sites of Shanghai. Out we would venture, day after rainy day into the city, umbrellas in hand and little Roo nestled happily in her carrier on Sarah's back. We went to all the markets, our favorite restaurants. Sarah even went with me to buy vegetables from my regular vendors to witness my mediocre Mandarin skills first hand.
Now I must tell you about my favorite new China-life discovery. Think with me for a moment...how many times have you gone to get your hair cut and while sitting at the shampooing sink thought to yourself, "This really would be so delightful if..." If the water weren't so cold/hot. If your neck didn't have to rest right on the rim of that blasted basin. If the person washing your hair weren't quite so harsh with the washing. Well, here in China, I was very pleased to realize that hair washing is a salon offering all of its own, and they have it down to quite the art. Obviously I had to go try it once I heard of its existence.
After carefully rehearsing and memorizing the phrases necessary to request my hair washing, I strode confidently into the salon and said my peace to the obliging salon hostesses who stand in matching Jetsons-esqe outfits at the door to take your hair order, so to speak. I was quite pleased with myself, until I saw that they were sitting me down at a chair in the middle of the salon far away from the sinks at the other end. Drat! Foiled. I hailed a nearby worker and attempted to correct the mistake, but was told no mistake had been made. Before I had time to protest another space-suited employee appeared at my side with gobs of shampoo in one hand and a tiny bottle of water in the other.
Mystified, I watched as she began to slowly lather a small bit of my hair, then more, then more, until I thought my hair could not possibly get any bigger or sudsier-and yet she kept going. More water, more shampoo, until I had the Mt. Everest of suds atop my head, and still no sink in sight! Then, she did the most fantastic thing. She proceeded to make some deft motion and extricated the vast majority of the sudsy mountain into her hands then walked away with it, leaving me alone and still very sudsy in the middle of the salon. Soon after she returned with, you guessed it, more water and more shampoo. Rinse and Repeat. So, yet again I was lathered into a foamy helmet. Eventually it did become necessary to rise all the suds. Once again my spacegirl scooped up handfuls of my suds and I was instructed to follow her (and my suds) back to another room that had the sinks. I was surprised to find even during the rinse I was perfectly comfortable. It sounds very odd I'm sure, but they hold your head with one hand and rinse with the little spout with the other so you don't have to strain to hold your neck up. A few times I instinctively lifted my head so she could rinse the back of my head and I was chastised. "You must relax! " I was told. Ok, if you say so.
After all the suds were gone, and my hair was thoroughly scrubbed to a cleanliness I could never before have fathomed possible, I was led back to my original seat for a five to ten minute neck, shoulder and arm massage. Then, just when I was feeling so relaxed I could have fallen asleep in my chair, I was met with the horrible intrusion of another person spinning a q-tip into my ear. I didn't know what to do with that, so I just sat as still as possible and hoped I wouldn't have any permanent hearing or brain damage. I have since learned how to politely decline this portion of the service, even though I forgot to warn Sarah before we went. Unluckily, she was q-tip attacked while I was still in the rinse portion at the back of the salon, but so far she seems to have survived any permanent damage.
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| Action Shot |
Thursday, May 26, 2011
House Swap
With our departure date drawing ever nearer I realized it was time to start thinking seriously about the practical side of moving home. We came to Shanghai with only the contents of four suitcases to start our home here, and in theory we will be leaving with just the four suitcases again. Dust to dust and such.
Unlike most overseas teaching gigs, Joel's didn't come with a furnished apartment- which means we furnished it ourselves on arrival. That's fine and all, but it also means that when we leave we have to figure out what to do with everything that doesn't fit into those suitcases. Not just the couches and the bed but our lamps, our conversation piece of a refrigerator, our dishes, everything.
I'd begun ameliorating myself with the idea of parting with all these things we'd designed and accumulated. I started putting together an Exit Strategy complete with a time line of what things to sell when and at what cost when an unexpected email arrived.
The email was from another foreigner living in our complex who asked us, quite frankly, if we would be comfortable playing musical chairs with our furniture-only without the music and the getting out if you run out of chairs-so nothing like that really. The proposal was that we start selling our furniture and as each piece sold- a couch for example, they would replace with a couch from their home until eventually all their furniture was moved into our apartment for the next tenants.
It was a great proposal. I felt suddenly much more secure about our situation. With the freedom to sell things at our leisure we could get ahead of the end of the year move-out rush. This happy non-stressed feeling stayed with me for about a week, until we found out that there had been a change in plans and instead of moving their things in eventually they needed to move them by the end of the week.
Which week? Next week. Oh my. Thankfully almost everything of ours has sold lickety-split (I had to define that term to some rather incredulous first graders this week, so I feel the need to justify its existence by using it in a sentence) so it's out with the old in with the new-which in this case is actually true in reverse. Selling the new to make way for the old. Bygones.
Wish us luck!
Unlike most overseas teaching gigs, Joel's didn't come with a furnished apartment- which means we furnished it ourselves on arrival. That's fine and all, but it also means that when we leave we have to figure out what to do with everything that doesn't fit into those suitcases. Not just the couches and the bed but our lamps, our conversation piece of a refrigerator, our dishes, everything.
I'd begun ameliorating myself with the idea of parting with all these things we'd designed and accumulated. I started putting together an Exit Strategy complete with a time line of what things to sell when and at what cost when an unexpected email arrived.
The email was from another foreigner living in our complex who asked us, quite frankly, if we would be comfortable playing musical chairs with our furniture-only without the music and the getting out if you run out of chairs-so nothing like that really. The proposal was that we start selling our furniture and as each piece sold- a couch for example, they would replace with a couch from their home until eventually all their furniture was moved into our apartment for the next tenants.
It was a great proposal. I felt suddenly much more secure about our situation. With the freedom to sell things at our leisure we could get ahead of the end of the year move-out rush. This happy non-stressed feeling stayed with me for about a week, until we found out that there had been a change in plans and instead of moving their things in eventually they needed to move them by the end of the week.
Which week? Next week. Oh my. Thankfully almost everything of ours has sold lickety-split (I had to define that term to some rather incredulous first graders this week, so I feel the need to justify its existence by using it in a sentence) so it's out with the old in with the new-which in this case is actually true in reverse. Selling the new to make way for the old. Bygones.
Wish us luck!
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
I like it, add more bows and I'll love it.
As promised I'm continuing the list I started to share the quirkier aspects of life here. And, I have to tell you, I had no idea how controversial that pea-popsicle was going to be. Here that's like a one on the scale of strangeness. There are corn popsicles and red-bean paste popsicles, milk popsicle with raisins, popsicles that have only a thin layer of actual popsicle carefully wrapped around a "tongue" of gelatin. I got that one once by accident. I thought it was lime then got really freaked out when the inside wasn't popsicle but some goo. I ran up to two youths that looked like they would speak English (I have a good sense for these things) and demanded that they translate the wrapper so I would know what I had just bitten into. It's called "Green Tongue" because when you lick it, the gelatin starts to look like a tongue. Personally, I wouldn't consider that a marketable feature, but there you go.
Fashion (#6) "I like it, but I'm going to need about ten more bows added before I'll wear it."
This is pretty self explanatory. China style is something of an enigma to me. I know it exists, but it's hard to see any true trends. What I have discovered I'll share here. Rule #1: More bows, more bows, more bows. We want bows in the hair, bows on the shoulders, bows on our backs, big bows on dresses, small bows flanking the sides of cardigans. The more bows the better. You'd think there was some sort of monetary compensation for the number of bows you wear in public.
Rule #2 Clothes with animals-yes! This fashion mentality mirrors my feelings about cheese. Mainly, everything is better when you add it. Why wear regular earmuffs when you could have bunny rabbit earmuffs? Why have a regular jacket when the hood could have cat ears and the back could have a tail? Why have a regular umbrella when you could get on in the shape of a frog with eyeballs sticking out of the top? Why? Why? Why?
Ok, that's all. Just two rules. Well, there is the heels rule- mainly you're an low-life idiot if you're a girl who doesn't wear six-inch tall heels everywhere you go. Riding your bike. Climbing the Great Wall. Whatever. But that one just makes me feel bad about myself for not wearing heels, so we'll move on.
I'm Allergic to My Air Conditioner (#15)
This was a really fun one to find out. I include it to make you all appreciate your clean air conditioners, clean drinking water and smog-free skies. To put it in perspective, I can stare directly into the sun here in the middle of the day without sunglasses and not even squint. Regarding the air conditioner, basically what happens is when we turn it on, I lose the ability to keep food in my stomach for any length of time. You were probably thinking that I sneeze a lot or something, nope. Nothing that fun. It happened last summer but we didn't make the association because we'd just moved here and we thought China itself was the enemy of my stomach. Now that hot weather is back and our air is on it's become painfully clear that it's our AC. I'll spare you the details, but you can trust me. Joel is unfazed. And it's never bothered anyone else, last fall or now, so I think you're safe if you're not me. (Just in case I'm terrifying future guests...Welcome to our amazing apartment!)
Who Farted? (#43)
I knew when I moved here that the manners wouldn't be the same. I knew there would be shoving and the hawking and spitting of gross things on the street, but what I didn't know was that people burp and fart without apology or shame. Let me tell you- the first time you see a lady tooting her heart out in an office and nobody bats and eye it is both shocking and hilarious, and unfortunately you pick up quickly on the "laughing now would be like laughing during a prayer" vibe. You really don't want to do it, but the fact that you aren't supposed to makes it harder to contain and ultimately you end up giggling despite yourself while everyone else looks at you like you're the immature one. Whatever, she farted. I just laughed about it. It's still a struggle not to make a face whenever my bus driver or my bus monitor burp and toot out their own little symphonies on the way to school and back each day.
Sorry, Mom. You raised me better than to converse about people's bodily functions, but I felt it was my journalistic duty to share it.
Fashion (#6) "I like it, but I'm going to need about ten more bows added before I'll wear it."
This is pretty self explanatory. China style is something of an enigma to me. I know it exists, but it's hard to see any true trends. What I have discovered I'll share here. Rule #1: More bows, more bows, more bows. We want bows in the hair, bows on the shoulders, bows on our backs, big bows on dresses, small bows flanking the sides of cardigans. The more bows the better. You'd think there was some sort of monetary compensation for the number of bows you wear in public.
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| The main window display of the "Gap" of China- it's called Uniglow |
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| All the shirts are Carebears or Barbie |
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| Bunny rabbit earmuffs |
Ok, that's all. Just two rules. Well, there is the heels rule- mainly you're an low-life idiot if you're a girl who doesn't wear six-inch tall heels everywhere you go. Riding your bike. Climbing the Great Wall. Whatever. But that one just makes me feel bad about myself for not wearing heels, so we'll move on.
I'm Allergic to My Air Conditioner (#15)
This was a really fun one to find out. I include it to make you all appreciate your clean air conditioners, clean drinking water and smog-free skies. To put it in perspective, I can stare directly into the sun here in the middle of the day without sunglasses and not even squint. Regarding the air conditioner, basically what happens is when we turn it on, I lose the ability to keep food in my stomach for any length of time. You were probably thinking that I sneeze a lot or something, nope. Nothing that fun. It happened last summer but we didn't make the association because we'd just moved here and we thought China itself was the enemy of my stomach. Now that hot weather is back and our air is on it's become painfully clear that it's our AC. I'll spare you the details, but you can trust me. Joel is unfazed. And it's never bothered anyone else, last fall or now, so I think you're safe if you're not me. (Just in case I'm terrifying future guests...Welcome to our amazing apartment!)
Who Farted? (#43)
I knew when I moved here that the manners wouldn't be the same. I knew there would be shoving and the hawking and spitting of gross things on the street, but what I didn't know was that people burp and fart without apology or shame. Let me tell you- the first time you see a lady tooting her heart out in an office and nobody bats and eye it is both shocking and hilarious, and unfortunately you pick up quickly on the "laughing now would be like laughing during a prayer" vibe. You really don't want to do it, but the fact that you aren't supposed to makes it harder to contain and ultimately you end up giggling despite yourself while everyone else looks at you like you're the immature one. Whatever, she farted. I just laughed about it. It's still a struggle not to make a face whenever my bus driver or my bus monitor burp and toot out their own little symphonies on the way to school and back each day.
Sorry, Mom. You raised me better than to converse about people's bodily functions, but I felt it was my journalistic duty to share it.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
A Few Quirks of Life in China
After some thought, I've decided to start a mini-blog segment devoted to sharing some of the smaller idiosyncrasies of life here: the things that I carelessly let fall through the cracks because at the time I was too overwhelmed with singing mushrooms or haggling for amazing kitchenware or backpacking through Laos, Thailand or Cambodia. Now that our number of remaining days in China have dropped into the double digit range, I thought it was time for some serious "China-quirk blog cramming." After all, it's now or never.
#36 Turtles in a Mixing Bowl: pet or lunch?
I'm getting mixed messages. The first time I came across this street display I was emerging from a subway stop on my way to IKEA. I saw the turtles swimming around in their bowl and then my eyes traveled to the fluffy baseball-sized Floppsy, Mopsy and Cottontails nestled in stacked cages just beside them.
My first reaction was the joyful elation of any warm-hearted child who in the first moments of laying eyes on a fluffy friend can offer no resistance to the overpowering, pre-programmed desire to a) hold it! b) take it home, where it will inevitably c) grow old with me and be my best friend for life. I estimate that this process takes about three seconds (including visualizations) and only ends for adult-children when d) I'm adult and I know better [than to buy animals on the street in China], I can't possibly care for this animal, must regain pre-animal sighting composure mode kicks in.
But then I got scared.
This is China. They eat everything here. Wait a minute...are these animals friends or table toppers? After months of agonizing over this completely unnecessarily, I'm choosing to believe that the answer is friends. That's what everyone seems to try to sell me on anyway, and they have no idea I already had a name picked out for my rabbit.
#61 Whatcha' Readin?
On the subway, if you are reading a book plan on sharing it. Pull an English title from your bag and you're sure to make some new friends fast. They won't talk to you, but they will read over your shoulder. And they don't stop when you look at them when a face that says, "what are you doing?" They just stare back at you and wait for you to turn the page so they can hunker down next to you for more pairs reading. The same rule applies to text messages and emails.
# 14 Pea Popsicles
These delectable/horrendous frozen treats have been a point of conflict here between my spouse and me. He thinks they're disgusting. I think they're amazing. Yes, they are made with peas, but I don't think they taste like peas. As a rule, I'm not very fond of peas. I eat them, but they're not my favorite; so I don't think this is a factor. It's just a tasty popsicle. The wrapper is also fabulous. Couldn't find that in America.
That's all for today, but there will be more later.
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| left to right: rabbits in cages, three bowls turtles, one bowl ?, one styrofoam crate of fish |
#36 Turtles in a Mixing Bowl: pet or lunch?
I'm getting mixed messages. The first time I came across this street display I was emerging from a subway stop on my way to IKEA. I saw the turtles swimming around in their bowl and then my eyes traveled to the fluffy baseball-sized Floppsy, Mopsy and Cottontails nestled in stacked cages just beside them.
My first reaction was the joyful elation of any warm-hearted child who in the first moments of laying eyes on a fluffy friend can offer no resistance to the overpowering, pre-programmed desire to a) hold it! b) take it home, where it will inevitably c) grow old with me and be my best friend for life. I estimate that this process takes about three seconds (including visualizations) and only ends for adult-children when d) I'm adult and I know better [than to buy animals on the street in China], I can't possibly care for this animal, must regain pre-animal sighting composure mode kicks in.
But then I got scared.
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| Another, smaller display. Turtles in bowl on left, rabbits on the right |
This is China. They eat everything here. Wait a minute...are these animals friends or table toppers? After months of agonizing over this completely unnecessarily, I'm choosing to believe that the answer is friends. That's what everyone seems to try to sell me on anyway, and they have no idea I already had a name picked out for my rabbit.
#61 Whatcha' Readin?
On the subway, if you are reading a book plan on sharing it. Pull an English title from your bag and you're sure to make some new friends fast. They won't talk to you, but they will read over your shoulder. And they don't stop when you look at them when a face that says, "what are you doing?" They just stare back at you and wait for you to turn the page so they can hunker down next to you for more pairs reading. The same rule applies to text messages and emails.
# 14 Pea Popsicles
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| Please note the sunglasses |
That's all for today, but there will be more later.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Beijing: Featuring...The Great Wall of China
When I left off last time we had just gone to meet up with the Jacksons. Unfortunately, we forgot to take a picture together so I'm going to cheat and use another picture from a different visit.
On Sunday morning we woke up and had a delicious homemade breakfast with Gary and Danita before we went with them to visit their service. We really enjoyed meeting their friends and visiting with everyone at lunch afterward. We felt so warmly received. From there we went out to see the sights. Stop one was the Temple of Heaven.
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| Temple of Heaven |
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| A little Chinese Spring |
Next we hit the Olympic Park. It was fun to see the Bird's Nest in person. I would like to have seen the structures lit up at night, but we didn't feel like waiting, so we snapped a few pictures and headed on our merry way.
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| I had to hold my fleece behind the camera so we could open our eyes. It was very bright! |
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| Aquatics Center. goggles, obviously. |
Since making the decision to move to Shanghai for a year we knew that we wouldn't be able to come back home without a trip to the Great Wall. How could we face our families? It would be humiliating. So we reserved our last day in Beijing for our Great Wall hike. Nothing was on our agenda but climbing all those stairs and marveling at this monster of stone climbing the countryside.
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At times the steps are quite steep. We had our backpacks on because we were headed home when we left the wall, so the mix of feeling a little off balance, the tornado-force winds and being an overall scardey-cat made me more than a little anxious. Ok, I confess- there was some minor hyperventilating on my part, and yes I clutched those rails at every possible opportunity, but I made it.
The climb down, which I was thinking would be easy, was actually the trickiest part because of 1) our backpacks and 2) the crazy youths that were playing some sort of the Fast and the Furious game on foot, knocking over innocent bystanders as they ran all over the Wall in a frenzy. This old lady would have shaken her fist at them if I'd been able to spare one from my death grips on the knee-height rail and Joel's hand, respectively. I said everything I needed to say with my eyes. Miscreants.
Despite being fully convinced of my eminent death, I managed to have a delightful time. The views were beautiful everywhere you turned. Even in the winter before the grass and trees had all woken up it was a lovely thing to see the wall stretching and meandering across the horizon.
We gave the whole Beijing experience a big two thumbs up. Fun parting aside: You may remember from a previous post that we have been assigned minor celebrity status on occasion in Shanghai, but it's rare. It came as a surprise but in Beijing, we were quite a spectacle. It was a common to see people grab for their cell phones and take pictures of us or with us if they were bold enough to ask. It happened too many times to count: in Tienanmen, on the subway, in the Forbidden City, on the Wall, at local eateries for lunch, they couldn't get enough...and all I could think to myself was didn't you host the Olympics? Shouldn't you be over this by now? Not that I minded, of course. The population everyone is worried about taking over the world get excited and sheepish when they run into me on the street. I think it's precious.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Beijing Trip: Forbidden City
I truly make an effort to be a culturally sensitive person. I always try to be polite when dealing with things that are foreign to me, even when I dislike them. Daily instances: being shoved, being cut in line, having a huge loogey spit on the sidewalk right where you were about to walk. I try to make allowances.
I say this in the hope that you'll forgive me because I'm sure that what I'm about to say is very rude.
The source of my rudeness: Tomb Sweeping Holiday. Catchy name, am I right?
The tradition is what really gets me though. You go and eat lunch, preferably picnic style, at [read:with] the graves of your ancestors. And then you clean them. You actually clean the tombs. That's the holiday.
Why this one thing sticks out to me as absurd when any number of not normal things have worked themselves into my new-normal routine is beyond my grasp right now, but I mention it because it brought us to Beijing. That's right, Tomb Sweeping Holiday is four day weekend. (I guess that's how long it takes to finish sweeping all the tombs?)
So I had a lot of firsts.
First time to take the train in China.
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| Shiny |
First time to show up at the wrong train station and have to run through the station to exchange/buy new tickets fifteen minutes before the train departed. If you are thinking, idiots, who shows up at the wrong train station? Didn't they check? I say to you: I always check! I just, this once, had a tiny, um, mishap brought about by the fact that I can't read Chinese characters.
First time in the super nice sleeping cars! [=mistake rewarded]
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| There were built in TVs at the foot of each bed. We had the top bunks. |
First time to visit the Forbidden City.
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| For Luck |
It was both bigger and smaller than I had anticipated.
Bigger in the sense that everything was very spread out and thus occupied a vast amount of space as a whole. Smaller in the sense that it was less grand than I had pictured.
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| But it was still amazing. |
This slight disappointment I own completely to the fact that I had been reading too much historical fiction about the Forbidden City in the height of it's glory in the months leading up to our visit (misplaced modifier-the reading was in the months before the visit, not the glory).
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| Ceramics |
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| These guys were everywhere. My audioguide probably told me about them, but I forgot. |
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I'll save the Temple of Heaven and the Great Wall for next time.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Tailor-Made
Last time we talked I mentioned the fact that I had, after months of abstaining, finally decided to go and get measured for a tailor-made coat in the market that I'd had my eye on for some months past. To some of you, the thought that I could be living amid a sea of readily accessible and extremely affordable tailors and NOT be running out to have suits, coats, rain jackets and dresses made to my specifications is no doubt shocking.
I know because I was one of you.
Ever since that fateful day years ago when Bill and Jessica first told me that in China you could have clothes tailor-made at the push of a button, I'd dreamed of going there. I envisioned myself walking through the rows and rows of shops brimming over with multitudes of beautiful bolts of fabric all waiting for my approving nod to be turned into the creations of my mind.
I fancied myself quite the fashion designer after Kate and I watched and re-watched "If The Shoe Fits" a really terrible 90s version of the Cinderella story where "Cinderella" was the scullery-maid equivalent of...whatever that would be in the fashion industry. We liked to sketch our own things after that. My magnum opus was my wedding dress. It was dragon-purple (just trust me) made of raw silk with vines of embroidered flowers racing up the side. Sadly, even by the time I was engaged in 2009 the world just wasn't ready.
Or if my own imagination ran dry, I could bring in magazines--or my stash of Anthropologie catalogs--and they would copy whatever I pleased.
It seems like this never happens: the dreamed-of thing actually living up to your glistening expectations, but however unlikely that's exactly what happened when I came to China. It was all true. I arrived here and strolled through the fabric markets, eyes wide at the realization of my dreams. There really were rows and rows of shops bursting with fabrics and tailors waiting to take your pictures and turn them into clothes. The only thing I didn't account for was...well two things.
1. Just because a tailor makes something for you doesn't mean it fits and it definitely doesn't mean it looks awesome. (Who knew, right?)
2. In China, you have to bargain for [practically] everything. Which means those affordable tailor-made clothes are only affordable if you fight for them to be.
The later is not a problem for me. I have my "walk away" perfected, so that just leaves the former: When tailor-made starts looking like homemade. When I first got here I rushed to the market and picked the tailor that gave me the lowest price to commission myself a new coat. I waited excitedly for a week to pick it up and when the day finally came I couldn't believe my eyes. The coat looked nothing like the adorable picture I had given the tailor to copy. What I had was a lopsided man's jacket in a girl's size. One shoulder sticks out awkwardly too far to the left and the other fits correctly, which leaves the impression that I'm oddly disproportionate and always on the verge of tipping over. I've worn the coat all winter long, but let's just say it's unlikely at best that it will earn the suitcase space it would require to bring it back.
To keep myself far from repeating this sad end I took on the only mission I knew to solve it: I must find the perfect tailor. And after weeks of research, I did.
I know because I was one of you.
Ever since that fateful day years ago when Bill and Jessica first told me that in China you could have clothes tailor-made at the push of a button, I'd dreamed of going there. I envisioned myself walking through the rows and rows of shops brimming over with multitudes of beautiful bolts of fabric all waiting for my approving nod to be turned into the creations of my mind.
I fancied myself quite the fashion designer after Kate and I watched and re-watched "If The Shoe Fits" a really terrible 90s version of the Cinderella story where "Cinderella" was the scullery-maid equivalent of...whatever that would be in the fashion industry. We liked to sketch our own things after that. My magnum opus was my wedding dress. It was dragon-purple (just trust me) made of raw silk with vines of embroidered flowers racing up the side. Sadly, even by the time I was engaged in 2009 the world just wasn't ready.
Or if my own imagination ran dry, I could bring in magazines--or my stash of Anthropologie catalogs--and they would copy whatever I pleased.
It seems like this never happens: the dreamed-of thing actually living up to your glistening expectations, but however unlikely that's exactly what happened when I came to China. It was all true. I arrived here and strolled through the fabric markets, eyes wide at the realization of my dreams. There really were rows and rows of shops bursting with fabrics and tailors waiting to take your pictures and turn them into clothes. The only thing I didn't account for was...well two things.
1. Just because a tailor makes something for you doesn't mean it fits and it definitely doesn't mean it looks awesome. (Who knew, right?)
2. In China, you have to bargain for [practically] everything. Which means those affordable tailor-made clothes are only affordable if you fight for them to be.
The later is not a problem for me. I have my "walk away" perfected, so that just leaves the former: When tailor-made starts looking like homemade. When I first got here I rushed to the market and picked the tailor that gave me the lowest price to commission myself a new coat. I waited excitedly for a week to pick it up and when the day finally came I couldn't believe my eyes. The coat looked nothing like the adorable picture I had given the tailor to copy. What I had was a lopsided man's jacket in a girl's size. One shoulder sticks out awkwardly too far to the left and the other fits correctly, which leaves the impression that I'm oddly disproportionate and always on the verge of tipping over. I've worn the coat all winter long, but let's just say it's unlikely at best that it will earn the suitcase space it would require to bring it back.
To keep myself far from repeating this sad end I took on the only mission I knew to solve it: I must find the perfect tailor. And after weeks of research, I did.
Exhibit A
What do you think?
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Empty Nesters
This morning we said goodbye to the last two visitors we will have in our little apartment in China. Joel's brother-in-law and Uncle Bob both came to visit us for a little over a week, and we've had the best time hanging out with them and showing UB around the city. Dan used to live here and teach at the school where Joel now works, so he was able to catch up with some old friends and students and revisit all his old stomping grounds and of course eat at all his favorite restaurants.
The entire visit was like one big eating and tailoring extravaganza. There were mountains of food on every table we sat down to (Dan was usually in charge of the ordering, and he had a lot of dishes to revisit before he could go home) and a sea of fabrics to navigate at all the fabric markets.
By the end of the week everyone had caught the bug to have clothes made at the market. Even I finally went to get measured for the coat I've had my eye on since we got here. Before we moved, I thought I would have clothes made all the time. In fact, I deliberately went light on the clothes packing in my suitcase because I fully expected to be filling my wardrobe with fabulous custom made pieces at laughably low prices the moment I stepped off the plane.
However, that was not to be my fate. Truth be told in the seven months we've called this place home I've only had one thing made since we got here, and when it didn't go exactly like I planned I had to come up with a Plan B for shopping here. Luckily they have H&M or else I'd be stuck buying everything in the largest possible size of the Chinese scale. Nothing like switching continents to give you a little body image perspective. "Oh no, you are much too fat for that. This is size like for me. Try biggest size!" Westerners, beware.
Aside from all the eating and the shopping we did one new thing that I've been dying to do since I got here: We went to the Shanghai Circus. It's called ERA, and it was amazing, truly.
Apparently reps from Cirque de Soliel came to train the acrobats and performers for this show, and you could tell by the magical mark they'd left. The whole thing had that other worldly vibe to it mixed with act after act of mind bending (and often body bending) wonders.
They had an act of four contortionist girls in trompe l'oeil leotards stacking themselves into mystefying shapes while a spotlight framed beautiful shadows of their silohouettes on a back panel that gave the impression you were watching moving drawings instead of real people. It was incredible.
Then there was a man who could spin huge vases all over his body- down one arm and up the other, throwing it into the air and catching it on the back of his neck. The he spun it on his head and flipped it from one rim to another, although the pot was clearly about five times the size of his head. I knew it was going to crush him any minute, but it didn't.
Next was my favorite act. It was a pairs routine. A couple flew through the air dangling in each others arms secured only by the fabric sheets that one of them would have twisted around a wrist or an ankle. They tumbled up and down the fabric and spun in large arcs over the crowd. I think that's the closest you can come to flying. It was beautiful and terrifying. I loved it.
They had so many other wonders. Seven motorcycles flying at death defying speeds in a tiny cage. Tumblers having a show down by jumping through all kinds of hoops. A giant rotating metal wheel that nearly killed one of the performers when he tried to run over it blindfolded and lost his footing.
It is a little disconcerting going to the circus in Shanghai. In the back of my mind I can't shake the sneaking suspicion that the tricks and the profits are valued more highly than the lives of the performers. I hope I'm wrong about that, but it doesn't change the fact that when you're sitting in that seat watching the show that American feeling of "I know it looks like they could die, but there's no way the company would let that happen" doesn't ring as true.
After the circus we Whisked for the second time that week and went home to watch Sharktopus, the horrific tale of what happens when a half Shark-half octopus biomedically engineered by the government goes rogue. It was worth every penny of the forty five cents we paid. This morning we waved goodbye to their taxis and came back upstairs to our empty nest. It's quiet, and I'm thinking it might just be a stay in your pajamas kind of day.
The entire visit was like one big eating and tailoring extravaganza. There were mountains of food on every table we sat down to (Dan was usually in charge of the ordering, and he had a lot of dishes to revisit before he could go home) and a sea of fabrics to navigate at all the fabric markets.
By the end of the week everyone had caught the bug to have clothes made at the market. Even I finally went to get measured for the coat I've had my eye on since we got here. Before we moved, I thought I would have clothes made all the time. In fact, I deliberately went light on the clothes packing in my suitcase because I fully expected to be filling my wardrobe with fabulous custom made pieces at laughably low prices the moment I stepped off the plane.
However, that was not to be my fate. Truth be told in the seven months we've called this place home I've only had one thing made since we got here, and when it didn't go exactly like I planned I had to come up with a Plan B for shopping here. Luckily they have H&M or else I'd be stuck buying everything in the largest possible size of the Chinese scale. Nothing like switching continents to give you a little body image perspective. "Oh no, you are much too fat for that. This is size like for me. Try biggest size!" Westerners, beware.
Aside from all the eating and the shopping we did one new thing that I've been dying to do since I got here: We went to the Shanghai Circus. It's called ERA, and it was amazing, truly.
Apparently reps from Cirque de Soliel came to train the acrobats and performers for this show, and you could tell by the magical mark they'd left. The whole thing had that other worldly vibe to it mixed with act after act of mind bending (and often body bending) wonders.
They had an act of four contortionist girls in trompe l'oeil leotards stacking themselves into mystefying shapes while a spotlight framed beautiful shadows of their silohouettes on a back panel that gave the impression you were watching moving drawings instead of real people. It was incredible.
Then there was a man who could spin huge vases all over his body- down one arm and up the other, throwing it into the air and catching it on the back of his neck. The he spun it on his head and flipped it from one rim to another, although the pot was clearly about five times the size of his head. I knew it was going to crush him any minute, but it didn't.
Next was my favorite act. It was a pairs routine. A couple flew through the air dangling in each others arms secured only by the fabric sheets that one of them would have twisted around a wrist or an ankle. They tumbled up and down the fabric and spun in large arcs over the crowd. I think that's the closest you can come to flying. It was beautiful and terrifying. I loved it.
They had so many other wonders. Seven motorcycles flying at death defying speeds in a tiny cage. Tumblers having a show down by jumping through all kinds of hoops. A giant rotating metal wheel that nearly killed one of the performers when he tried to run over it blindfolded and lost his footing.
It is a little disconcerting going to the circus in Shanghai. In the back of my mind I can't shake the sneaking suspicion that the tricks and the profits are valued more highly than the lives of the performers. I hope I'm wrong about that, but it doesn't change the fact that when you're sitting in that seat watching the show that American feeling of "I know it looks like they could die, but there's no way the company would let that happen" doesn't ring as true.
After the circus we Whisked for the second time that week and went home to watch Sharktopus, the horrific tale of what happens when a half Shark-half octopus biomedically engineered by the government goes rogue. It was worth every penny of the forty five cents we paid. This morning we waved goodbye to their taxis and came back upstairs to our empty nest. It's quiet, and I'm thinking it might just be a stay in your pajamas kind of day.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Different kind of Christmas
The holidays will be different this year. There's just no getting around it. Forgetting for a moment the fact that we're living in a culture that doesn't observe Christmas, it's also a first for celebrating away from our families. So, feeling a little down, I set out in search of a flower market that I had heard would be selling Christmas decorations. I wasn't expecting much, maybe a tiny snowman or a box of candy canes, anything to make the apartment feel more like home at Christmas.
We didn't know exactly where we were going. Since it was more than an hour's trip away from the apartment I had dragged Joel out with me for the expedition. I had a general idea of which metro stop to take and from there I was relying on a rough translation of the words "flower" and "market" to get us there in a taxi.
We hail the first cab we see upon exiting the subway. We recite the prepared words we've studied that we think mean "flower market" and after a few minutes of confused arguing we get back out of the cab. Seeing that plan A didn't work (and we can't say we were surprised, really) we decide to phone a friend. We hail a second cab, more confident this time because we have a native Shanghai-er on the phone to translate for us. With a few rough grunts that indicate he has at least understood what we want we're off. Our friend told us to expect a 20 minute taxi ride, so when we get dropped off in the middle of the road not 5 minutes later we're a little wary. At any rate, with no other options to speak of we enter under the arch the driver is pointing to and find this:
It's an animal market. Full of birds and dogs and rabbits huddled together for warmth. We search high and low looking for a secret entrance to the flower market that I know must exist, but to no avail.
We exited the market and walk around for another half an hour looking for any sign of it. I'll admit that at this point I was a bit...distressed. It was one of those days when disappointment over something small instantaneously floods into something bigger, missing home, missing friends, feeling like you're completely lost in the middle of a huge city with no way to communicate with anyone. And just like that, I was crying in the middle of the sidewalk surrounded by Chinese people.
Honestly, it wasn't so much a woe-is-me cry as an I'm-furious-and-there's-nothing-else-I-can-do-about-it-right-now cry. Nevertheless, I took a few moments to get it out of my system, and set back towards the metro to go home. We must have asked a dozen people where to find the market and no one knew what we were talking about. Finally I happened on a tiny boutique store that had some interesting looking things in the window, so I slipped inside hoping to find something to make my journey worthwhile.
The shop owner was friendly, and I bought items that fit the bill. As we were leaving I decided to try one last time for the flower market. Low and behold- he knew! He said we were just five minutes away. [I had him write down the address in Chinese to be safe].
And we found this...
A winter wonderland of Christmas! They had giant trees and tinsel and snowflakes. I was in heaven! It was all completely ridiculous, of course, none of it quite made sense. Like, the angels would have bows and arrows or the snowmen salt and pepper shakers would all be for Pepper, no salt, but it was so much fun to explore. I got some ribbon and a couple of strings of lights to put on our little tree that mom brought over. And then there were the flowers...
Stalls and stalls full of fresh cut flowers waiting to be arranged! Entire shops full of orchids or other exotic plants. It was delightful. On the way out a grabbed some white ranunculous, a purple cabbage flower, a few stems of eucalyptus and some lavender wax flower to make a nice wintery arrangement. So here's the end result. Our "Christmas apartment."
China or no China, Merry Christmas from the Coxes!
We didn't know exactly where we were going. Since it was more than an hour's trip away from the apartment I had dragged Joel out with me for the expedition. I had a general idea of which metro stop to take and from there I was relying on a rough translation of the words "flower" and "market" to get us there in a taxi.
We hail the first cab we see upon exiting the subway. We recite the prepared words we've studied that we think mean "flower market" and after a few minutes of confused arguing we get back out of the cab. Seeing that plan A didn't work (and we can't say we were surprised, really) we decide to phone a friend. We hail a second cab, more confident this time because we have a native Shanghai-er on the phone to translate for us. With a few rough grunts that indicate he has at least understood what we want we're off. Our friend told us to expect a 20 minute taxi ride, so when we get dropped off in the middle of the road not 5 minutes later we're a little wary. At any rate, with no other options to speak of we enter under the arch the driver is pointing to and find this:
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| The market |
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| The arch. Not very promising is it? |
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| Really loud birds. |
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| The clump of white in the blue cage is a bunch of rabbits. |
We exited the market and walk around for another half an hour looking for any sign of it. I'll admit that at this point I was a bit...distressed. It was one of those days when disappointment over something small instantaneously floods into something bigger, missing home, missing friends, feeling like you're completely lost in the middle of a huge city with no way to communicate with anyone. And just like that, I was crying in the middle of the sidewalk surrounded by Chinese people.
Honestly, it wasn't so much a woe-is-me cry as an I'm-furious-and-there's-nothing-else-I-can-do-about-it-right-now cry. Nevertheless, I took a few moments to get it out of my system, and set back towards the metro to go home. We must have asked a dozen people where to find the market and no one knew what we were talking about. Finally I happened on a tiny boutique store that had some interesting looking things in the window, so I slipped inside hoping to find something to make my journey worthwhile.
The shop owner was friendly, and I bought items that fit the bill. As we were leaving I decided to try one last time for the flower market. Low and behold- he knew! He said we were just five minutes away. [I had him write down the address in Chinese to be safe].
And we found this...
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| Our tiny Christmas tree |
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| Our hand painted Shanghai ornament, snowman, and assortment of hot cocoa from mom :) |
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| New wintery votives and on the table behind you can see a glimpse of the flowers. |
Saturday, December 11, 2010
The Twelve Hour Tour
Earlier this week we had the delightful surprise of a visit from Cliff. It's very difficult to surprise someone with an international visit, so I have to hand it to him on that.
Originally he wasn't going to tell us that he was flying through Shanghai, because it was too sad for him to be so close and not be able to leave the airport (since he doesn't have a visa). Come to find out customs doesn't care about the visa if you're on a layover, even if it's overnight. They let you right on through! So it was our pleasure to host Cliff here for the twelve hours he was in Shanghai. Here are a few pictures from our twelve hour tour.
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| There were blue lights everywhere downtown. Christmas? Perhaps. |
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| In front of the Pearl Tower. |
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| We ate at one of our favorite places. You can't tell it from our faces but we had a lovely time. |
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| That's Cliff with part of our skyline. |
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Monday, November 29, 2010
Nothing fancy
Between my parents visit and the hectic work schedule that followed (and let's be honest, the onset of my reading the Hunger Games trilogy in a five day span) I haven't had much time for blogging. Well, I suppose that's not entirely true, I've had time to spit a few words out but every time I've tried so far I've been so tired that I find myself trying to write posts so dull that I can't finish typing them out of sheer boredom. So I'll spare you the in between bits that never made it to publishing and summarize:
We had a fantastic time showing my parents around Shanghai. They were the perfect house guests, and we loved every minute of having them here. We saw some sights and took them to our favorite restaurants and markets but the best part was meals together at home or out, because just like at home we're all happiest when we're sitting around a table together enjoying our food and the delightful conversation and easiness that can only be had with the people closest to your heart. We miss them already, but we've been busy enough that we didn't have to wallow around in sadness (that last part was for mom's benefit- did you like it?)
There is only one thing that I genuinely felt the need to share between then and now. It was one of those whoa China moments that stopped me dead in my tracks. You need a little back story to appreciate it properly though so I'll begin by saying that just this week I have finally overcome my fear of going to the grocery store. This is not due to some strengthening act on my part, but the sheer memorization of where the "scary things" lie so that I can now construct paths through the grocery store without having to encounter the fish that splash me in their tanks while their beheaded counterparts stare at me from the ice mere millimeters from their tanks, the stretched, dried flesh of various sea creatures menacingly dangling from the ceiling, and above all, the enormous, me-sized cuts of meat that hang from hooks smothering me with their scent as I pass by.
Just this week I've finally committed to memory where not to go in all four grocery stores that I frequent. [In this case, memorization is the only option, if you're not sure you can stumble right into the butchers block and then we're back to square one.] It can still get a little dicey when you absolutely have to walk by something horrific to get to the thing you need. In those instances I transition to plan B which allows my feet to go on the path but my eyes are not allowed to, say look left once you pass the plastic doors.
I'm feeling pretty good. I've successfully navigated all my shopping, and I decide to take a trip to my local Lianhua for a coke. (Our Lianhua is basically like a glorified Chinese Tigermart, but they don't sell fuel outside). I ran into a friend on the steps of the store and we stopped to chat for a minute when I did a doubletake at a bike parked in the street out front. There, in front of God and everyone, a large, black fish appeared to be writhing around in a plastic bag that was dangling precariously from the handlebars of a rusty bike. I stared more closely, sure that it couldn't actually be moving when it happened. The fish FLOPPED OUT of the bag like the killer whale at the end of Free Willy only to have gravity wrench him back into his waterless, plastic death suit. He flopped! Right in front of me! Good grief people. It just goes to show you, make as many grocery store maps as you like, but if you're in China-the food will sneak up on you sooner or later. Literally.
We had a fantastic time showing my parents around Shanghai. They were the perfect house guests, and we loved every minute of having them here. We saw some sights and took them to our favorite restaurants and markets but the best part was meals together at home or out, because just like at home we're all happiest when we're sitting around a table together enjoying our food and the delightful conversation and easiness that can only be had with the people closest to your heart. We miss them already, but we've been busy enough that we didn't have to wallow around in sadness (that last part was for mom's benefit- did you like it?)
There is only one thing that I genuinely felt the need to share between then and now. It was one of those whoa China moments that stopped me dead in my tracks. You need a little back story to appreciate it properly though so I'll begin by saying that just this week I have finally overcome my fear of going to the grocery store. This is not due to some strengthening act on my part, but the sheer memorization of where the "scary things" lie so that I can now construct paths through the grocery store without having to encounter the fish that splash me in their tanks while their beheaded counterparts stare at me from the ice mere millimeters from their tanks, the stretched, dried flesh of various sea creatures menacingly dangling from the ceiling, and above all, the enormous, me-sized cuts of meat that hang from hooks smothering me with their scent as I pass by.
Just this week I've finally committed to memory where not to go in all four grocery stores that I frequent. [In this case, memorization is the only option, if you're not sure you can stumble right into the butchers block and then we're back to square one.] It can still get a little dicey when you absolutely have to walk by something horrific to get to the thing you need. In those instances I transition to plan B which allows my feet to go on the path but my eyes are not allowed to, say look left once you pass the plastic doors.
I'm feeling pretty good. I've successfully navigated all my shopping, and I decide to take a trip to my local Lianhua for a coke. (Our Lianhua is basically like a glorified Chinese Tigermart, but they don't sell fuel outside). I ran into a friend on the steps of the store and we stopped to chat for a minute when I did a doubletake at a bike parked in the street out front. There, in front of God and everyone, a large, black fish appeared to be writhing around in a plastic bag that was dangling precariously from the handlebars of a rusty bike. I stared more closely, sure that it couldn't actually be moving when it happened. The fish FLOPPED OUT of the bag like the killer whale at the end of Free Willy only to have gravity wrench him back into his waterless, plastic death suit. He flopped! Right in front of me! Good grief people. It just goes to show you, make as many grocery store maps as you like, but if you're in China-the food will sneak up on you sooner or later. Literally.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Orange you glad I didn't say banana?
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| My potted basil and rosemary were a housewarming gift from my dear friend Liz. |
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| My two burner stove that works about 37% of the time. |
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Post:
I knew before we came that Halloween wasn't a global holiday, but I didn't realize that even among Westerners, Halloween is kindof a nonevent. To be honest, without all the overwhelming signage and the creepily cute seasonal section at Target to remind me it was coming I had almost forgotten it altogether.My first cross cultural faux-holiday encounter occurred when I stumbled upon a "Halloween" section at the Carrefour supermarket. Groups of Chinese people were standing around staring at the various items for sale. Some were poking at the costume masks. Several were picking up the over-sized gourds and fake cobwebs with looks of sheer bewilderment on their faces. Almost everyone was taking pictures with their phones.
I'm not a huge fan of Halloween, so I didn't feel like I was missing much this year in terms of dressing up, but I do have one Halloween tradition that I couldn't pass up. The traditional Halloween meal.
What? You've never heard of it? Well allow me to explain.
Every year at Halloween I make a meal out of predominately orange food...cupcakes that have been colored orange with orange frosting with candy pumpkins on top, cheezits, a bowl of m&ms with only the orange ones, or the same of reecies pieces, carrots, macaroni and cheese, you get the idea. Nothing has to "go." It's a meal of non sequiturs.
The only real rules are that you 1. absolutely must drink Orange Fanta (Sunkist can be substituted in rural areas of the US), and 2. there must be rice krispee treats. "But those aren't orange?!" Pipe down! I make the rules! It's melted butter and marshmallowy goodness. Get with the program.
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| Please note the Snoopy Marshmallows (they're vanilla flavored). |
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| Orange, orange. check, check. |
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| I see you eying my table top "decor." Yes I made those in elementary school art last week. |
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