...during Chinese New Year, taking advantage of Leah's week long school break to travel. Why Laos, when there are so many interesting destinations here in China? Big crowds and expensive tickets, that's why. New Year's week is the worst time all year for foreigners to attempt any in-country trips, given the hundreds of millions of Chinese people who are traveling to their home cities and villages to celebrate the holiday with their extended families. So our plan had been to leave China and go to Vientiane and Louangphrabang in Laos.
However, Terry found out about 10 days ago that he wouldn't have his passport back until about Feb. 1. He had to surrender it for routine scrutiny after his second interview at the Public Security Bureau earlier this month. This interview was approximately step #700 in the l-o-n -g and time-consuming process of getting a temporary residence permit for our family, a process that he initiated last summer. This process is taking so long, in fact, that the health certification he got last summer had reached its 6-month expiration. So a couple weeks ago he had to go to a local hospital and get a health check all over again. Terry had thought that this would be the last unpleasant surprise in the permit process. But no. A few days ago he was told that the notarized copies of our marriage certificate and Leah's birth certificate would not suffice; they need to be "authenticated". If handled from here, authentication would cost over 7000 RMB, which is over $1000. Gulp. Fortunately Terry is going back to the U.S. soon and can authenticate there for considerably less.
Most foreigners who work here don't bother to get a temporary residence permit. It's not strictly necessary. But if for some reason the Chinese government should get nervous about foreigners being here, visas could be canceled and we would have to leave China, which would be problematic since Terry's work is China-based right now. There was a crackdown only a few years ago. All business visas were canceled here 6 months before the 2008 Olympics. Only single entry visas were allowed and many applications for these were denied. A temporary residence permit replaces a visa and makes it much less likely that the holder would have problems traveling in and out of China, even if there are visa crackdowns. We hope!
Frustrating and drawn-out as this process of getting a residence permit is, it's understandable that China wants to control who comes into this country to work and do business. It's said that China is second only to the U.S. in terms of stringent requirements for living and working in their country. And it takes a lot longer for a foreigner to jump through the work and residency hoops in the U.S. than it takes here.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
"Hey, kids, why don't you go outside and play for awhile?"
Moms used to say this back when I was a kid, when they needed a little peace and space. Today we put a little present-day spin on it: the parents decided to go outside and wander around for a few hours, so their kid could have some space and peace here to watch a movie with a few friends late this afternoon. We have only one room in our apartment where it's comfortable to hang out, and that room feels a little crowded even with just the 3 of us sometimes.
While we were out wandering, I wanted to continue my quest for a bungee strap to replace the nice one that Terry had brought back from the U.S. for me last fall. I used it for attaching parcels to the rack on my bike. Somehow I lost this strap a few weeks ago when I was riding in the rain. I had it in a bag in my bike basket, shoved in next to my school bag. It must have bounced out, unseen under my rain poncho. Today I saw some 2-meter long straps at hardware shops, but they weren't very stretchy and had homemade, savage-looking hooks. Bungee cords have been around home for 30 years or so and seem like such a universal item. They're almost surely manufactured in this country. You'd think it would be an easy item to find. But it's not. It goes this way with countless made-in-China items we're used to seeing in the U.S. that you'd think would be readily and cheaply available here. They're not.
Our main destination today was a eyeglasses shop that was recommended in our city guidebook. Terry has been needing an updated prescription for the glasses he uses when using his computer. We found the shop without any trouble. It was sleek, spacious and had some swanky displays of designer frames which weren't knock-offs, judging from the prices. Terry was immediately helped by an English-speaking optician. Within 15 minutes he'd placed his order. He handed over his black "forms", as the optician called them, and was told that he can come back tomorrow night at 8 to pick them up with the new lens. He paid about the same amount that he'd pay in the U.S. But in the U.S. he wouldn't be able to walk into a shop at 5 on a Saturday afternoon to get fitted and then pick up his glasses on Sunday night at 8. Shops and services here, even professional services such as dental and medical, are usually open 7 days a week, well into the evening. They're eager to do business.
Then we wandered down a little side street, literally to see what's cookin'. The street vendors were attracting hungry passers-by and we were curious to see what was for sale. There were meats on a stick, flat breads, roasted nuts and roasted sweet potatoes. And then there were sweet little faces. I nonverbally asked permission from the mom on the left if I could take a picture of her little girl. Grandmom to the right was insistent about unbundling the little boy from his stroller so I could take a picture of him, too. It was in the high 50's this afternoon, a somewhat chilly day here, so parents had their little ones very warmly dressed.
A few steps away was this cheery vendor, who was making thin, pancake-like flatbreads with pickled vegetables, egg, chili peppers, a few tiny dried fish and a few other toppings I can't remember, cut in two and rolled up, ready to eat. I pointed to my camera and "asked" to take her picture. She was thrilled. So thrilled, in fact, that she insisted on rolling up the bread on her griddle and giving it to us, gratis. I had taken out my wallet to pay, but she smiled and waved me away. It was delicious! We'll go back.
Check out her portable eatery. All her equipment fits into the box on her cargo bike.
Next we paused by this display of roasted sunflower nuts, peanuts, chestnuts and walnuts. The girl on the left pleasantly said hello to me and asked me if I knew Chinese. No, I said, do you speak English? Yes, I'm a student, she said. I found out she's 17 and her sister in the purple sweater is 15. The sister was stirring the sunflower nuts roasting over the charcoal fire in the bucket. The elder sister asked if we wanted to buy something. We got 300 g. of freshly roasted peanuts for 5 RMB, or about $.75. I liked these girls. They were showing initiative without being obnoxious. The peanuts we brought home were good, too.
While we were out wandering, I wanted to continue my quest for a bungee strap to replace the nice one that Terry had brought back from the U.S. for me last fall. I used it for attaching parcels to the rack on my bike. Somehow I lost this strap a few weeks ago when I was riding in the rain. I had it in a bag in my bike basket, shoved in next to my school bag. It must have bounced out, unseen under my rain poncho. Today I saw some 2-meter long straps at hardware shops, but they weren't very stretchy and had homemade, savage-looking hooks. Bungee cords have been around home for 30 years or so and seem like such a universal item. They're almost surely manufactured in this country. You'd think it would be an easy item to find. But it's not. It goes this way with countless made-in-China items we're used to seeing in the U.S. that you'd think would be readily and cheaply available here. They're not.
Our main destination today was a eyeglasses shop that was recommended in our city guidebook. Terry has been needing an updated prescription for the glasses he uses when using his computer. We found the shop without any trouble. It was sleek, spacious and had some swanky displays of designer frames which weren't knock-offs, judging from the prices. Terry was immediately helped by an English-speaking optician. Within 15 minutes he'd placed his order. He handed over his black "forms", as the optician called them, and was told that he can come back tomorrow night at 8 to pick them up with the new lens. He paid about the same amount that he'd pay in the U.S. But in the U.S. he wouldn't be able to walk into a shop at 5 on a Saturday afternoon to get fitted and then pick up his glasses on Sunday night at 8. Shops and services here, even professional services such as dental and medical, are usually open 7 days a week, well into the evening. They're eager to do business.
Check out her portable eatery. All her equipment fits into the box on her cargo bike.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Kids Making Their Own Decisions
"People should be allowed to make decisions for themselves, even if they are bad decisions" was the agree/disagree writing topic in the 8th-grade humanities class where I subbed yesterday. These students were studying forms of government and also reading Lois Lowry's The Giver, a dystopian novel which my daughters also were assigned to read in middle school. The book describes a healthy, peaceful, smooth-functioning society. The problem is that it's attained through strict rules about behavior and through the sacrifice of personal freedoms for the good of the community.
I scanned the essays that the students handed in. The most eloquent writer didn't mention forms of government at all, but instead focused on personal freedom, which is of great relevance to most 8th graders in the U.S. This student said that freedom to decide depended on the age of the person: teenagers basically aren't capable of making responsible decisions, so their parents need to make them. This is not a response that I'd expect from a typical American 14 year old. But the writer isn't American, she's from South Korea.
About the student body at this American international school: there are actually very few American kids at this school. 15 years ago there were, but at present, over half the student body is from South Korea. The next largest group is from Hong Kong. As I understand it, kids from the People's Republic of China are not allowed to attend an international school after they turn 7 or 8 years old; Chinese kids at the school have to have a passport issued outside the PRC, often Hong Kong. (Easy to see why the PRC doesn't want Chinese kids attending the school, just looking at a couple of the topics in this particular class this week: "How much should the government be able to control your individual rights for the benefit of society?" and "What makes an ideal society?")
The parents-should-decide student essay brought to mind a Wall Street Journal essay that Terry forwarded to me last week, "Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior". It's excerpted from Amy Chua's newly-published book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. Chua is a Chinese-American law professor at Yale, who seems to want to sell lots of her books, given the provocative nature and timing of her essay.
In this essay, Chua boldly uses cultural stereotypes. She describes her own strict "Chinese-style" parenting of her 2 daughters, now nearly grown-up: no TV or video games, no playdates or sleepovers; she demanded not just A's but top place in every academic subject, she chose all of their extracurricular activities, and she chose the piano and violin for them and closely supervised several hours of daily practice. She says that a skill or academic pursuit only becomes fun when you're really good at it, and the only way to become good is through endless practice and rote repetition. Kids don't naturally want to work hard, so it's a parent's job to make them.
Chua says American parents are far too concerned about their kids' self-esteem, whereas Chinese parents assume that they know what's best for their kids and that their kids are capable and resilient, so they can use words and methods to make them work hard that would strike many American parents as being abusive. Chinese parents are willing to sacrifice mightily to make their kids grow up to be successful, and kids then owe a debt of gratitude to their parents, paid back by showing lifelong obedience and respect.
Chua's essay has drawn lots of commentary, both affirmative and critical. (I just looked at today's Minneapolis Star Tribune online and noticed two op-ed pieces about it.) As for me, I think she leaves Western parents with some good food for thought. However, this matter of closely controlling others' behavior seems to conflict with my own northern European, Protestant heritage: independent-minded ancestors who left families and familiar ways behind in Sweden and Germany for new opportunities in the U.S. in the 19th century; independent-minded Protestants who didn't want to be told what to do by the Catholic hierarchy. I would not be comfortable parenting in the controlling way she describes. Although authoritarian parenting may be an appropriate way to prepare people to live in certain environments, I don't think that it would adequately prepare most children to live satisfying lives as productive, responsible citizens of the present-day U.S., where we live with freedoms and choices that are unimaginable in many parts of the world. How exactly does a person learn to make good decisions without practicing?
I scanned the essays that the students handed in. The most eloquent writer didn't mention forms of government at all, but instead focused on personal freedom, which is of great relevance to most 8th graders in the U.S. This student said that freedom to decide depended on the age of the person: teenagers basically aren't capable of making responsible decisions, so their parents need to make them. This is not a response that I'd expect from a typical American 14 year old. But the writer isn't American, she's from South Korea.
About the student body at this American international school: there are actually very few American kids at this school. 15 years ago there were, but at present, over half the student body is from South Korea. The next largest group is from Hong Kong. As I understand it, kids from the People's Republic of China are not allowed to attend an international school after they turn 7 or 8 years old; Chinese kids at the school have to have a passport issued outside the PRC, often Hong Kong. (Easy to see why the PRC doesn't want Chinese kids attending the school, just looking at a couple of the topics in this particular class this week: "How much should the government be able to control your individual rights for the benefit of society?" and "What makes an ideal society?")
The parents-should-decide student essay brought to mind a Wall Street Journal essay that Terry forwarded to me last week, "Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior". It's excerpted from Amy Chua's newly-published book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. Chua is a Chinese-American law professor at Yale, who seems to want to sell lots of her books, given the provocative nature and timing of her essay.
In this essay, Chua boldly uses cultural stereotypes. She describes her own strict "Chinese-style" parenting of her 2 daughters, now nearly grown-up: no TV or video games, no playdates or sleepovers; she demanded not just A's but top place in every academic subject, she chose all of their extracurricular activities, and she chose the piano and violin for them and closely supervised several hours of daily practice. She says that a skill or academic pursuit only becomes fun when you're really good at it, and the only way to become good is through endless practice and rote repetition. Kids don't naturally want to work hard, so it's a parent's job to make them.
Chua says American parents are far too concerned about their kids' self-esteem, whereas Chinese parents assume that they know what's best for their kids and that their kids are capable and resilient, so they can use words and methods to make them work hard that would strike many American parents as being abusive. Chinese parents are willing to sacrifice mightily to make their kids grow up to be successful, and kids then owe a debt of gratitude to their parents, paid back by showing lifelong obedience and respect.
Chua's essay has drawn lots of commentary, both affirmative and critical. (I just looked at today's Minneapolis Star Tribune online and noticed two op-ed pieces about it.) As for me, I think she leaves Western parents with some good food for thought. However, this matter of closely controlling others' behavior seems to conflict with my own northern European, Protestant heritage: independent-minded ancestors who left families and familiar ways behind in Sweden and Germany for new opportunities in the U.S. in the 19th century; independent-minded Protestants who didn't want to be told what to do by the Catholic hierarchy. I would not be comfortable parenting in the controlling way she describes. Although authoritarian parenting may be an appropriate way to prepare people to live in certain environments, I don't think that it would adequately prepare most children to live satisfying lives as productive, responsible citizens of the present-day U.S., where we live with freedoms and choices that are unimaginable in many parts of the world. How exactly does a person learn to make good decisions without practicing?
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Getting Ready for Chinese New Year
Of course we need to decorate for the holiday. Our very first Chinese New Year decoration, the "good fortune" display on the pedestal pictured at left, was a thank-you gift to me from Andrew Liu, the student leader of the Saturday morning Green Shoots English classes. Printed on the back of the decoration is this translation: In A.D. 1673, "ask the good fortune to continue the longevity" for the Queen Mother Zhuang of grandmother's filial piety, write down and shake "macrobiotic good fortune" that glitters at all times, good fortune this imply "many son, many just, many field, many longevity, many good fortune"... That's about a third of it, copied exactly from the original. Happiness, good health, longevity, and prosperity are common themes for the holiday.
I was all set to go back to Green Shoots on January 8, but Andrew emailed that classes would not start up again until mid-February because of the New Year holiday. At first I thought that seemed like an unreasonably long break. However, this is comparable to the 6+ weeks in the U.S. between mid-November and early January, when many American people set aside optional activities because they're preoccupied with Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's.
Besides the above "good fortune" display, our other Chinese New Year decorations consist of 4 small red paper lanterns that I bought last week. (And that's it. I'm a minimalist when it comes to holiday decorations.) I intend to hang the lanterns from the 4 large screw heads in a rectangular light fixture in the living room, but I have to figure out how to get them up there, 9' or so off the floor. We don't own a step ladder or step stool. I suppose I could use my laundry hook on a pole that I use to put hangers on our 9' laundry rod outside on the balcony ceiling. As I write this, I realize that I need to buy at least one more lantern, or else give away at least one: 4 is considered a very unlucky number because the Chinese word for 4 sounds very similar to the word for death. A quartet of lantern decorations simply will not do in China!
On the lower left in the photo you see the ubiquitous red envelopes--the color red being associated with good fortune--which are used to gift money on special occasions and for Chinese New Year. I was first introduced to the red envelope in 1990, when Colin and Phyllis Fong gave one to Emily in honor of her birth, "a Chinese tradition", Colin said at the time. Who would have thought that 21 years later I, too, would participate in this tradition--in China?
There are rules for the red envelopes, called Hong Bao in Mandarin. Terry and I are reading up and asking around so that we can hopefully avoid offensive lapses. One important consideration is to check out the message on the envelope to be sure that it's appropriate for the recipient. Please let me know if you can read the message on this envelope and it's the wrong message for the recipients described below! Red envelopes are given during Chinese New Year to younger family members and often to employees as a year-end bonus. A month's wages are a typical gift to an employee. A single crisp new bill is best, it shouldn't be folded, and even denominations are considered auspicious, although any number with 4 should be avoided, as you already know.
We employ only person that I can think of: Leah's morning driver to school. Unfortunately, there's a new driver, as of this past week, which complicates the situation. Other people we probably should red envelope (the Chinese language equivalent to using this as a verb is more graceful, I'm sure) include Chen, the helpful and friendly concierge at the desk in our apartment building; the nice young man who regularly delivers our big 18.9-liter water bottles--his jovial "long time, no see" made me smile a few days ago, considering his limited English; and Connie Liu at the Dial-an-Angel re-location agency, who is our translator/liaison when we need a water delivery, need to communicate with Leah's morning driver, have a question for our landlord, and so on. Red enveloping is supposed to bring blessings to the receiver, as well as to the giver. This is a tradition that encourages generosity!
Now back up to the photo. On the lower left you'll see a pair of orange 3M foam earplugs, which seem oddly placed with the other holiday items. Here's the story. Last week I asked my friend Yan about her plans for Chinese New Year. She and her sister, who also works in Shenzhen, have train tickets to travel to their home in the city of Shangrao on January 25, a trip that will take a whole day. Much as she's looking forward to going home, she said that she is dreading the actual New Year's holiday because the neighbors' fireworks, blaring television and boisterous voices will go on all day and all night, which makes it impossible to sleep. She asked me if I knew where to get something to cover her ears to keep out the noise. I assured her that I could. Terry has kept lots of foam earplugs around home for years, first purchased for visiting noisy industrial facilities and later found to be oh-so-useful at home to block out noise from teenagers who often like to stay up considerably later than their parents. I told Yan that I didn't think I could get them in time for Chinese New Year this year, but that Terry could bring some back after his next trip to the U.S. However, yesterday when I was moving some things around on a shelf I found this package. I'll give these to Yan to pack in her bag for the trip home. Hopefully they'll help her welcome the Year of the Rabbit feeling well-rested and appropriately calm.
3M could probably do bang-up foam earplug business here, marketing this nifty low-tech ear gear to Chinese people who don't care to listen to full-volume New Year's fireworks all night long!
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Holiday Mashup
Saturday, January 8, 2011
It's Cold Inside
Leah got a mite chilly in gym class on the first day back at school this week. She forgot that the weather had turned colder here since her 3-week break and had packed shorts with her gym gear. The next day she came home and reported that her teachers were wearing their winter coats in class and that she'd taken all her notes in English class that day wearing mittens. At the end of the week she told about a substitute teacher who couldn't make the assigned DVD work, so she decided to have students lie on the floor, relax and practice Indian meditation instead. Leah thought this was quite ridiculous on several counts, but mostly because it was impossible to relax while lying on what felt like a slab of ice.
The classroom where I was subbing this week was on the building's 4th floor, far away from the wide open (why?) front doors. I managed to stay fairly comfortable dressed in several layers, without my coat. It also helped that the room was fairly small and that I had a succession of wiggly middle-schoolers all day long generating heat. One day after I'd finished monitoring duty in the nippy 1st floor lunchroom, I must have looked a little chilled because the teacher who'd gotten on the elevator with me handed me his tea thermos and said, "Here, it looks like you need this more than I do!" and let me hold it to warm my hands during the ride up. The biggest challenge was staying dry during my 20-minute ride in the drizzle a couple mornings this week. This fall I bought a nifty bright yellow rain poncho that's made for biking. It's cut long in the front and has a little clothespin at the lowest point that I can clip on the front of the basket, so my hands and even my bag in the basket can stay mostly dry. The hood doesn't stay up very well, though, and my feet and legs get a little wet.
It's great to come home to our apartment, where our main room stays warm with the help of a portable heater. The office, bedrooms and bathrooms are chilly, but if we need to, we can always move the heater back into these areas. My computer sits on a polished stone-like surface in the office, which radiates a chill--not conducive to sitting down to write. This morning there's some feeble sunshine emerging from the light gray haze of clouds and we've opened wide all the drapes to coax in a little warmth from it.
After reflecting on the "winter" weather this week, I decided to check on the actual temps in neighboring Hong Kong the last few days: highs close to 60 and lows about 50. REALLY?? Either we're turning into real wimps or it's colder here than it is in Hong Kong.
We are very spoiled with central heating in the U.S. We take for granted that we can turn up the heat to whatever temperature makes us comfortable in our homes, offices and schools. Not so in China. Terry tells about elderly people in parts of northern China staying in bed all day long for months at a time during the winter so that they can stay warm; they sleep on a raised stone platform which is heated by burning cornstalks. No wonder Spring Festival is such a big deal here!
The classroom where I was subbing this week was on the building's 4th floor, far away from the wide open (why?) front doors. I managed to stay fairly comfortable dressed in several layers, without my coat. It also helped that the room was fairly small and that I had a succession of wiggly middle-schoolers all day long generating heat. One day after I'd finished monitoring duty in the nippy 1st floor lunchroom, I must have looked a little chilled because the teacher who'd gotten on the elevator with me handed me his tea thermos and said, "Here, it looks like you need this more than I do!" and let me hold it to warm my hands during the ride up. The biggest challenge was staying dry during my 20-minute ride in the drizzle a couple mornings this week. This fall I bought a nifty bright yellow rain poncho that's made for biking. It's cut long in the front and has a little clothespin at the lowest point that I can clip on the front of the basket, so my hands and even my bag in the basket can stay mostly dry. The hood doesn't stay up very well, though, and my feet and legs get a little wet.
It's great to come home to our apartment, where our main room stays warm with the help of a portable heater. The office, bedrooms and bathrooms are chilly, but if we need to, we can always move the heater back into these areas. My computer sits on a polished stone-like surface in the office, which radiates a chill--not conducive to sitting down to write. This morning there's some feeble sunshine emerging from the light gray haze of clouds and we've opened wide all the drapes to coax in a little warmth from it.
After reflecting on the "winter" weather this week, I decided to check on the actual temps in neighboring Hong Kong the last few days: highs close to 60 and lows about 50. REALLY?? Either we're turning into real wimps or it's colder here than it is in Hong Kong.
We are very spoiled with central heating in the U.S. We take for granted that we can turn up the heat to whatever temperature makes us comfortable in our homes, offices and schools. Not so in China. Terry tells about elderly people in parts of northern China staying in bed all day long for months at a time during the winter so that they can stay warm; they sleep on a raised stone platform which is heated by burning cornstalks. No wonder Spring Festival is such a big deal here!
Monday, January 3, 2011
Love those Piggies
We generally don't have much regard for pigs in the U.S. Think of all the expressions using pig as a pejorative; pigging out readily comes to mind during these waning days of the Christmas season. American advertisers would probably not use a pig to help sell a product, except to a pig farmer. The Chinese, on the other hand, hold pigs in high esteem. This animal has been and is still an important food in China, even though many Chinese no longer rely on pork and pork fat as a dense energy source needed for survival. Pigs are a symbol of good fortune to the Chinese.
Last night was a cheap date night for Terry and me at a noodle chain restaurant a 25-minute walk from our apartment. Here's their cute piggy icon on the placemat. The characters on its apron say "rice noodles". The yesteryear-themed Porky's Drive-In on University Av. in St. Paul is the only eating establishment at home I can think of that uses a pig to advertise.
Our dinner was similar to what's pictured at left. We each had a bowl of noodles in a flavorful broth with lots of mushrooms and a few other similar tasty vegetables I couldn't identify, lettuce (!), a few thin slices of lean roast pork, a few peanuts, and garnished with a crispy, paper-thin sheet of egg and some kimchi-like pickled cabbage matchsticks. Delicious. 24 RMB for two bowls. That's about $3.60.
If you're lucky a Minnesota branch of the rice noodle piggy restaurant will open soon and bring good fortune and good food your way.
This is a banner advertising pork in the local RenRenLe grocery store. I can't imagine several large, live pigs pictured right next to a plate of prepared pork in an American grocery store ad. But those nice plump pigs represent prosperity and happiness to Chinese people. At least to the 98% who are not Muslim.
Our dinner was similar to what's pictured at left. We each had a bowl of noodles in a flavorful broth with lots of mushrooms and a few other similar tasty vegetables I couldn't identify, lettuce (!), a few thin slices of lean roast pork, a few peanuts, and garnished with a crispy, paper-thin sheet of egg and some kimchi-like pickled cabbage matchsticks. Delicious. 24 RMB for two bowls. That's about $3.60.
If you're lucky a Minnesota branch of the rice noodle piggy restaurant will open soon and bring good fortune and good food your way.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Happy New Year from Shenzhen
December has come and gone. It was actually a relief to be here in China early in the month, where we appreciated the absence of excesses that go with the Christmas season in the U.S. I didn’t feel particularly excited about going back to Minnesota for a few weeks. The snowstorm that closed the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport a half-hour before our scheduled arrival on December 11 didn’t do much to build my excitement; the thought of maneuvering snowy roads in post-storm subzero weather was not appealing, especially since I hadn’t driven for 4 months. But after an unexpected overnight in Detroit, freezing rain there the next morning and further delay, I finally began to feel eager to be home. A day later than we’d planned, a cab dropped us off a block from our house. The snowplow had not been through our street yet, but 4 of Leah’s friends had shoveled a path through the 18” on our sidewalks. They were waiting at our house when we arrived, the Southwest H.S. Sherpas who lugged our luggage that last block. The Best Sister Ever had hung a pine swag on the front door, had left a beautiful poinsettia on the dining room table, as well as pickled herring and other provisions in the fridge—and had come by the night before the storm to turn up the heat. What a nice homecoming! Within an hour I had emptied my meager supply of cinnamon sticks into a pot of fruit soup on the stove and had put a pan of gingerbread in the oven. Our unlived-in house smelled lived-in again, and the excited girls sitting on the living room floor made it sound lively, too.
It took a day or two to feel at home in our home. Old routines soon became familiar: driving in the snow, dressing for the cold, and getting ready for Christmas. Returning to familiar faces and places was a comfort. Despite my earlier lack of enthusiasm about returning to Minnesota, I thoroughly enjoyed seeing family and friends and celebrating Christmas, as well as the everyday miracles of American amenities. Departure day came too fast, and I didn’t feel ready to leave it all again.
But here we are, back in our apartment in Shenzhen, having arrived in the wee hours on December 31. We’re settling back into our second home, getting used to our China routines, and it’s all OK. Here’s what’s new:
• The weather has turned relatively cool in the few weeks while we were gone. Nearby Hong Kong saw 40ยบ this morning, which is about as cool as it gets here. 2 t-shirts and 2 sweatshirts kept me warm in our apartment, and by midday the sun felt very warm. Maybe central heating won't be missed much after all…
• Terry discovered that most of the Chinese people he works with are taking a long New Year’s weekend, so he’s got a few days to rest up and ease into his work. Leah doesn’t go back to school until Tuesday, either.
• I was surprised and touched by the big smiles and greetings from some of the young Chinese workers that I talk to on my various daily rounds. “Nice to see you. You were gone a LONG time!”
• Leah’s friends tell her that the subway to our part of the city is now open. Yesterday we walked by the stop nearest our apartment and sure enough, there were a few people going up and down the stairs and the lights were on down by the platform. I had thought about trying it out this afternoon, but instead I ended up taking a long, jetlag-busting New Year’s nap.
• The oranges here are fantastic this time of year, very flavorful and sweet. Yesterday I bought 3 different sizes and they were all tasty. Our favorite is a tiny walnut-sized mandarin.
• We finally have a floor plant for our apartment. I’ve been admiring various attractive options on sidewalk displays and vendor’s carts for months, but never quite decided how to get one home. My problem was solved easily and cheaply this morning when I took out a bag of trash. Sitting on the floor by the garbage bin in the stairwell was a healthy-looking succulent, which I promptly salvaged. It’s quarantined on the balcony for now, just in case I missed something.
So begins the first day of 2011 for us. Best wishes to you for a happy and healthy 2011!
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