China Musings

I just finished watching Hitch, with Will Smith. I enjoyed it, up untill the last 5 minutes when my 5RMB DVD decided to FREEZE! Grrr.. Oh well, I can’t complain when paying ~$0.75USD for a movie. The ending looked really cheesy anyway, so I don’t think I missed much. The scene that really made me laugh was near the beginning, when Will’s character succumbs to an allergy. It’s really not nice to laugh at others’ misfortune, but in this case, I am just laughing at myself. It is certianly one of those “You’ll laugh about this later…” things, because I was not very amused at the time.

While living in Huanggang, maybe early spring, Alison and I went to the big supermarket to get some groceries. The big supermarket in Huanggang was not just a shop, but as it is in town all across China, an event. There were staged promotional fashion shows, kids’ bouncy rides, women selling shoes on a foldout table, and of course the ubiquitous food stalls. We picked up something that advertised Malaysian style barbecue. I remember some beef satay, maybe some chicken too, and some spices I certianly had never had before. They were tasty and we continued on our way to shop and return home.

About an hour after I had eaten the satay, (to be fair I think i ate some other street food that day as well) I started to feel an itching at the back of my throat. Since I actually am generally allergic to a lot of things, I am used to this sensation, and it usually passes quickly. This time however, the sensation seemed to continue to grow, spreading to my toungue, and further around my throat. About 2 hours later, I realized that the actual tissue in my throat was swelling, my face and neck were itchy, and my lips were getting thicker. And it was getting worse.

Ok, this part wasn’t very funny. I realized that if this phenomenon did not begin to reverse itself I would soon be unable to breath. Stupidly I held on for another 20 minutes or so hoping it would go down by itself, but instead, I found myself straining to take breaths. (I am also asthmatic, so I am fairly used to this sensation as well) Since I was fairly sure the cause of the inflammation was allergy, I knew I needed help, and could not combat this with my asthma medication. So I told Alison, “I’ll go.”

You may have been wondering why I didn’t get up and head right for the hospital as soon as I started to feel bad. Well, the answer to that is I had seen the hospital. I had accompanied Alison as well as some of my colleauges there on before, and to me it was not a welcoming place.

We arrived in a rush piling out of the taxi, and I shuffled to the emergency window. By this time my throat was pretty swollen. I could only take slow, shallow breaths, and I couldn’t really talk. Alison rather frantically tried to explain what was going on, and it seemed that they understood that I was not getting enough air. So, they produced a bag. It reminded me of the free pillow that comes with an an air matress. They proceded to blow into the valve to inflate the bag, and then shoved the attached hose into my nose. She gave me the bag to hold under my arm, and motioned for me to squeeze it, apparently to push the air into my lungs. There was only one problem, my nose was stuffed shut. Full of snot. The hose wouldn’t even stay in after she tried to tape it. At this point, I was really wondering how they were planning on helping me.

It seems that they were wondering as well. I sat in the waiting area for a while, breathing slowly, while they ran around looking for someone who might be able to handle my situation. At this point my Chinese wasn’t very good, and to me they were just running around yapin incoherently while was slowly suffocating. It was starting to get to me. Then finally, a nurse said, “Come with me.”

The room I was assigned to was in the back building, on the 7th floor. The elevator was out of service. Now, remember that I can’t breathe, I’m significantly worse than my average asthma attack, actually, problably near the worst, and now I have to climb 7 flights of stairs with an infalted air pillow under my arm. Looking back I realize that I am just a really easygoing guy, cause I just went right up. The nurse looked sorry for me, as I shuffled up the steps at an alarmingly slow pace. I could feel my breath getting shallower with each step, but I just kept on, determined to get to my room where they would finally DO something.

When I finally arrived, I sat on the bed, and rested. By this time, my chest was gettin sore…pushing air in and out or my constricted throat. I couldn’t talk, and all I wanted to do was start breathing normally again. Alison translated for me and the doctor asked me some questions. I could only nod or shake my head. Finally, they announced that they were going to medicate me - with penicillin. Now, I am going to have to give the doctors the benefit of the doubt here, because I refuse to believe that they wanted to give me penicillin, an antibiotic, to treat a clear case of allergy, which requires anti-histamines. I maintain that it is just some quirk of the chinese-english dictionary that translates “strong medicine” into penicillin, or something like that.

By this time, my breathing had actually gotten much better as I relaxed from the exercise, and although I was far from 100%, I could feel myself un-constricting. So after an emphatic NO, I fell asleep.

I guess I woke up something like 3 hours later, feeling terriffic. Alison was worried sick, because she wasn’t sure if I had passed out from lack of oxygen or something like that. There was a huge tank of oxygen, finally, and a nurse ready with an injection kit. I was completely disoriented and actually quite happy to be breathing and being able to move my tongue. The doctors were really surprised that I didn’t want anything, in fact I think it took about an hour just to get out of there.

I stayed away from malaysian kabobs after that litle experience. But actually, even in Malaysia I never got that flavor or subsequent reaction again. Thank goodness. I am also happy that now I am in Guangzhou they have quite adequate medical care if I need it.

Now I think back on that day and chuckle. Not cause of the whole not breathing thing, but just the comedy of errors that led me up 7 flights of stairs just to fall asleep!

Alright, I have eaten some pretty suspicious things while living and travelling in China. One thing that I had managed to avoid was snails. We came close in Yangshou, but Alison foung a hair in the dish and we lost our nerve.

Here in Guangzhou snails are a large part of the “xiao ye” menu. Xiao ye is loosely translated to midnight snack. If you travel through GZ at night, you’ll see hordes of people sitting on sidewalk tables at 2AM, happily munching on noodles, barbecued kebabs, rice porrige, and most commonly - snails. They come in a big heap, boiled and stir-fried with some herbs and flavoring agents. If you look closely you’ll see that many tables have small heaps of snail shells off to the side. You see, there is not much in a snail, so you tend to eat a lot of them. Cantonese folks can sit for hours, sipping beer, swapping stories and picking snails out of their shells with a toothpick, one tiny tongue-foot at a time.

Last night, I couldn’t avoid it any longer. We were invited to my cousin’s house to spend Mid-Autumn festival together over a meal. My cousin (once-removed? twice-reserved-grand-uncle?) is my grandfather’s brother’s grandson, so he is in te same generation. However, he is all of 56, married, with a 17 year old daughter. They are a very cute family, warm and friendly, and we enjoy eating at their house despite the fact that they are also very Cantonese, and have a very different style of food from what we are used to. Anyway, last night my cousin-in-law went all out. She made deep fried won-tons, stuffed peppers, boiled chicken, steamed dumplings, roast pork, wintermelon soup, and it was all delicious. Alison and I stuffed ourselves, and when we were done, they made us eat more because, “We don’t like to eat leftovers.” So here we are bloated and drinking tea, I actually had to stand up to give the food space to digest, and she comes out with one more dish - snails.

It was just a small bowl. My neice was excited, and our course, our host urged us to try. I gave Alison a look, she replied with one of her own “I’ll do it if you do it too.” So we dug in. Toothpick in one hand, small snail shell in the other. The trick is to spear the foot at an angle so you can pull the whole thing out in one piece, since there is quite a bit of animal curled up inside the shell. It was easy to get the hang of, but being - uh - full, limited me to a small sample. Alison got into it, saying “It’s like eating sunflower seeds!”

So, the big question, how does it taste? Well, we have all eaten molluscs before. Gastropods in a shell. And you know what - these freshwater, snails are not much different from their seafaring cousins. It reminded me of eating a small clam, or a tiny muscle. The flesh was a little chewy, not very flavorful aside from what it was cooked in. All in all, I’d eat it again. There was nothing wrong with it except for my pure American lazyness when it comes to food. Unless we live in Baltimore (crabs) or Maine (lobsters), we basically don’t like to have to work for our food. These snails simply did not have enough meat(?) or taste for me to go about wrenching them from their shell one by one.

So, if you ever come to visit, get ready for the xiao ye. You don’t have to worry, they let the snails sit in clean water for 12 hours before they cook them, nice and clean.

A few weeks ago, August 26 to be exact, marked the end of my 4th year in China. I arrived in 2001, fresh-faced and carefree - ready to see the world, then go back home. I can’t believe I’m still here.

Let’s see, what have I learned over these past 4 years. I’m still not fluent in Chinese. I can only read maybe 1000 characters. I have been in Guangzhou for almost 3 years, and I still can barely speak Cantonese. I do think in meters and centigrade, instead of feet and farenheight now, so I guess that is one aspect that I have become accustomed to while living here.

Before I left, I ate a lot of Chinese food, at least 3 times a week, often 5-6 times a week. I wondered if coming to China would give me an overdose if Chinese food, but in fact, I am still loving the food. I have some chao niu he almost 3 times a week, honestly the same thing I ate when I was living in California. I have to admit that whenever I go to Hong Kong though, I make sure to eat something else, often Indian, or Western foods.

In terms of understanding Chinese culture and lifestyle, I feel I have made some progress. I had no idea what life was like in China before I came here, and now I feel that I have a really good idea of how a lot of people live, from the big cities to small rural towns. Living in Guangzhou is a lot like living in any big city in America, with 7-11s, traffic, and always having something to do or someplace to go. The small towns I have visited in the mountains of Hubei and Yunnan are quite different though, with their slower pace of life and clean air.

I have a pretty good understanding of Chinese history; I can hang in there on a discussion about ancient emporers or Chairman Mao. I love the famous classics of literature, from the adventures of Liu Bei and his two sworn brothers to the drama of Bao Yu in the Red Mansion. But I still haven’t figured out all the nuances of interpersonal relationships. Buisness moves at a different pace here, and casual male-female relationships follow a different set of rules. The differences are often very subtle, and at other times, quite overt.

I have learned to cook in a Chinese way, sort of. I find it extermely difficult to reproduce the things I can get at any restaurant apart from the most basic dishes, like stir fried cabbage. But I do have a basic idea of the techniques used and the favors expected. My problem is that I am trained (I use that term loosely) to do things in a different way, and to focus on bringing out a different taste, so my dishes almost always come out a little differently even when I try my hardest to reproduce authentic Chinese cuisine. I love to cook and I used to cook a lot in my former life. But Western cooking relies a lot on carmelizing vegetables, which in China is considered burning.

It has been a wonderful 4 years, and I am very glad Chris and Su (the original people who invited me to come teach for my first year.) asked me to come over and teach in China. I couldn’t be happier with my decision to come here; my life has grown and I have developed in ways I never thought possible. I just hope I can keep learning and growing.

Night Has A Thousand Eyes - Sonny Stitt

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It’s still raining, so we haven’t really been up and about much. This morning, I was truly cold… I haven’t felt naturally cold in months. Yesterday we hung out at Second Sister’s house most of the day. She cooked lunch and dinner for everybody, giving Ma and First Sister a break. Their complex, at the People’s Bank of China, has a basketball court and we shot hops for a couple of hours. Ba gave me a schooling in Chinese Chess. I can still beat my two nephews, but I’m hopeless against anyone older than 16.

The food here has been great as always. It is very hearty, salty and oily, with strong flavors that I am not quite used to. There are also some strange vegetables that I have not seen anywhere else. One is a purple half cabbage half onion that is about the size of a head of garlic. It tastes like, well, a vegetable. Vegetables here are really fresh, really good. They aren’t big and pretty like the ones we buy in the market in Guangzhou, but they look much more real. They have bad spots, they are smaller and twisted. They look like they were grown in the real world.

We put together a movie from the footage we took while in Baokang. If you don’t know the people, it might be kinda boring, and if you’re hungry, well don’t watch. Itis a homage to the food and my Baokang family.

http://desandies.com/baokang.mov

Enjoy.

Sunday morning we rolled into the Xiangfan Train station, ready for another trip out to Baokang, Alison’s hometown. Summer is the rainy season out here, and it shows in the mountians; green on top of green. The pristine blue-green lakes, the green rice paddies, and furry looking green mountains. The bus ride was a beautiful as ever, passing through these mountains and up the hills. We took the new raod that isn’t finished yet, with a very long tunnel, but it didn’t seem to save any time.

As always being in Baokang is about being with family. This time, we have a new arrival in the shape of a 3 year old fireball. He Feiyang’s little brother (under the one child policy, first cousins become brothers and sisters) Yuanyuan is staying with his grandparents (actually, great-aunt, but who’s counting). The last time I saw him he was a little ball of flesh bundled up against the cold during 2003 spring festival. At that time he seemed very quiet, and very lazy, taking in the world around him at his leasure. Now, he is a dynamo running around on newfound legs and getting himself into anything he can. He is pretty well behaved though, and listens when we speak to him. He really only speaks dialect, so I don’t really understand anything he says, but we get along well. I’m teaching him english, but I don’t think he’ll remember.

It has been raining here, for 2 days non-stop. The main street flooded yesterday and now it is full of mud. The river in the center of town is huge and rushing. The town is much the same, with a few new stores selling more “fancy’ looking things. Everyone seems to be doing well, and is happy to see us, which is a good sign.

We got our official notice today, Alison’s application has been approved by the California Immigration office, and her ionformation has been forwarded to Guangzhou. Once it arrives in Guangzhou, the GZ consulate will notifyu us directly and give her an interview date. It Alison passes the interview, then that’s it, she can come to America!

We are excited, as this is basically the last step in a process that has been going on for the 3 years we have been in GZ. Note, I am not saying it will take everyone 3 years, we were not the most active applicants. It has been almost 1 year since we sent in our first packet though, if you were wondering about how long it might take.

I had an interesting conversation today, actually, it is a pretty common conversation here in China. I was buying vegetables for dinner in the market, at one of the stands that I often frequent. The lady there happens to be from the town where I taught English for a year, and actually moved to GZ the same time we did. Anyway, today a friend was with her, and once she realized i could understand Chinese, she asked, “You’re African, right?”

“No,” I replied, knowing what was coming next.

“Yes, you look African, how can you not be African, where are you from then?”

I held my tongue, since I have had this conversation at least 30 times. My friend the vegetable proprietor answered for me, “He’s from America! He speaks Chinese.”

“But you look like an African, I can’t beleive it, really?”

“Yes, I am from America.”

“So, they speak Chinese in America too?”

“No… they don’t.” The two of them continued to argue about the possibility of Americans speaking Chinese.

When I first arrived, it used to slightly offend me that people could not believe I had come from America. But after living here for so long, I can certianly understand where they are coming from. In China, 97% of the people are of the Han majority, and another 60% of the remaining 3% only look different if they happen to be wearing their traditional outfit. To be Chinese is simple. The common perspective of Ethnicity and Nationality are that these concepts are one and the same. On the other hand, for me, coming from a multi-cultural background, it is hard to imagine how I could possibly combine my ethnicity with my nationality.

It is times like this when I realize how deeply the ideas of nationality, race, and ethnicity are ingrained in us from childhood. Just as i could never imagine a life without Chinese/Iranian/Lebanese/Mexican/Irish (etc.) Americans, many of the Chinese people I have spoken to have trouble understanding that my mother is Chinese, but lives in America. “So she is American then?”, they ask. I usually just answer, “yes.”

We just got back from your first Hong Kong (HK) trip together. After living in GZ for three years, Alison finally got the right papers that allow her to travel to HK. We decided to take a weekend trip for our 3rd anniversary.

Hong Kong was a lot of fun. We stayed in a nice little hotel at the top of the hill in Tsim Sha Tsui. HK really is a shoppers paradise. We spent our first evening walking along the streets of TST, stopping in random stores and gawking at all the things to buy. I have been to HK several times now, but most of the time I am in a big hurry, and rush through without noticing anything. This time I was able to really see what there was to offer, and I was impressed with the variety.

We had dinner at my favorite Indian Restaurant, Branto’s, on Lock Road. I have been to this place almost every time I am in HK, and I am always happy with the quality of the food. It is pure vegitarian food, but eating like this makes it easy to forget about meat.

The next day we had a great 5 course French meal, the food was not the best I’ve had, but it was a very pleasant place and the service through 5 courses was a treat. There is something to be said about taking your time with a meal, it really lets you appreciate the food. So often I simply wolf down my food, I forget how nice it is to relax and let the meal happen at its own pace.

Then we took the ferry over to the Honk Kong Island side of the straight. I love the Star Ferry, and Alison appreciated the view of the HK skyline. One we got the Central, the finanacial district of HK, we were met with a onslaught of Tagalog. Apparently, Sunday is the traditional day off for all the Filipino Domestic helpers that live and work in HK. On Sunday, they gravitate to Central and hang out in the parks, the walkways - anywhere there is shade - to hang out with their friends, do each other’s hair, and eat each other’s food. I didn’t realize how many ex-patriate Filipnos were living in HK. They literally took over Central.

We ended up in IFC Mall, one of HK newer shopping extravaganzas. Surprisingly, I was able to find a fancy designer shop with clothes on sale that we could actually afford, sort of. There was a steel drum jazz band playing, tons of shops and tons of people, delicious smells coming from the bakeries and restaurants; I could certianly get used to shopping like that.

Finally we headed to Wan Chai, where we could hop on a bus back home to GZ. It was a really ncie weekend, and I hope we have more time to make similar trips in the future. I also hope next time we can actually offord to buy something!

You know, when I first got to China, I never imagined I would ever find myself hanging on to the back of a motorcycle. But things change. Yesterday, I found myself heading fully across Guangzhou, in the rain, with a computer in my lap, hanging on to a chubby moto driver wih only my knees to hold me.

It was a very gradual progression. I remember my first moto ride. I was late for dance practice (long story) during the first semester at Huanggang Teacher’s College. The December weather was bitingly cold, the pavement was freshly wet from a recent drizzle, and I stood at the bus stop impatiently waiting for the #6 to arrive.

Before the #6 arrived, a young guy pulled up right in front of me, and gestured for me to hop on. I declined the offer, thinking there was no way I was going to get on that deathtrap in slippery streets, and to pay for the priveledge. But he persisted, and finally made it clear that he knew me, he was going to campus as well, and this was a free ride. Not being one to give up on freebies, I put aside my fears and climbed on. He was wearing gloves, and a helmet, and he asked me to hold a single rose for him, apparently for his girlfriend.

He took off, nonchalantly avoiding the honking taxis, the #5 bus, the equally nonchalant pedestrians, bicyclists, and handcarts. I held onto his shoulders for dear life. He tried to engage in friendly conversation about how he recognized me as a foreign teacher, how his girlfriend was a roomate of my students, how happy he was that me and my foreign friends had come to his college. All I could do was shutter my reply through chattering teeth. By the time we had arrived at campus, about a 10 minute ride, I could not longer feel my hands or my face, but I gave a smile as best I could and thanked the young Romeo for his help.

I learned a few things: motorcycle drivers like to talk to their passengers, and never ride a moto on a cold day without gloves.

I avoided motorcycles completely after that, and actually it wasn’t until 2 years later, I was working on a project in Longang, an hour away from downtown Shenzhen, when I rode a moto for the second time. Out here, there were no other options i terms of getting to where you wanted to go. So I got used to it. I got used to the feel of the wind in my hair, well, that’s mostly figurative; I got to the point where I didn’t need to make my knuckles white on the rear-rack of the motorcycle seat. The motorcycles down there rarely had working speedometers, or tachometers, they just went, and you go with them. After about nine months of about 4-6 rides a week, I moved on to a new project. This one also was in the outskirts of the city, and required me to use motos to get there and back from the bus station.

This is going on and on… I stop now.