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Published: August 9th 2007
It was better than Christmas. After months of separation, after countless chats via skype, after what felt like hundreds of emails, the day had arrived. I had waited for 8 months with breath that was bated for this day. June 21, 2007 was the day my family arrived in Beijing for a week-long visit. It was a week filled with excitement, drama, angst, confusion, humor, awe, and random sound effects. In short, the typical family reunion.
D-DAY
THURSDAY. JUNE 21, 2007
I had tossed and turned for hours the night before. It felt like Christmas, Easter and my birthday all rolled into one. All day long, I was jittery with excitement. My afternoon coffee suddenly seemed like a really bad idea. I attempted to study Chinese, to prepare for my classes, to talk to students, anything to keep my mind occupied, but my efforts were fruitless. Before I knew it, it was 9:30 PM and I was bidding my students goodbye as they wailed and sobbed at the news of my impending absence. The day had dragged by at the torturous pace of a lazy snail, but I was finally on my way to meet my parents and
brother at their hotel near Wangfujing Street.
As I strode into the hotel lobby, suitcase in tow, perspiring from my efforts to remain calm (and from the mugginess that is the Beijing summer), I saw a large amount of jet-lagged white people standing together in small groups. As I approached them, they blearily looked around the expansive lobby, slurring their words in their exhausted states. I found the woman who appeared to be the most alert and found out they were from Florida. False alarm. I leaned against one of the banisters near the front entrance to wait.
Before long, 2 massive tour buses pulled up in front of the hotel. I could almost smell the sweet corn and cheese curds emanating from their luggage. Oh, how I missed Wisconsin at that moment. As the passengers began staggering into the lobby, I scanned faces in search of my family. People continued to stream into the hotel and finally I saw them. As soon as my parents spotted me, my mom threw her suitcase into the air and as if in slow motion, began running towards me. Her screech of "Meeerrrriiiiiiiitttttt" echoed above the noisy crowd surrounding us. Clothes
rained
down as my dad stumbled backwards from the force of the suitcase thrust upon him and my mom threw her arms around me, cutting off my air supply. My brother, Reid, watched these events unfold as he smartly stood a fair distance away, hidden behind a plant. (Note: this re-enaction of the reunion of the family may or may not have been slightly exaggerated for dramatic purposes).
We eventually picked up the scattered contents of Mom's suitcase and made our way upstairs to our rooms. After catching up briefly, it was off to bed. The next morning was an early one: on the tour bus by 8:25 AM.
DAY ONE
FRIDAY. JUNE 22, 2007
We arose at the butt-crack of dawn (literally; it was about 6:30 AM, a time at which I have likely not been awake since high school). Somehow, we made it downstairs to Jing restaurant for breakfast and it was at that point that my jaw dropped to the floor. A breakfast buffet unlike any I had seen was presented before me. Taking up the space of what seemed like 3 football fields (for those of you non-sports aficionados, that's a really,
really long space), the sights and smells of what was offered tantalized my senses. There was a made-to-order omelette station, a waffle corner, sauteed vegetables, and imported cheese. Rows upon rows of freshly cut fruit glittered before me, and pitchers of ice cold milk tempted me. I couldn't wait to dig in.
Unfortunately for me, after 8 months of deprivation from the rich cheeses and other delicacies I so love, my stomach rebelled against my morning food choices. I realized I would have choose sparingly for the rest of the week or suffer the wrath of my intestines. Awesome.
However, life goes on and we cheerfully boarded the bus that would take us to our first destination: the Summer Palace. It was first commissioned in 1750 by Emperor Qinglong in honor of his mother's birthday and took 15 years to finish. The majority of the Palace was destroyed during fighting with foreign invaders in 1860 but was rebuilt by the dowager empress Cixi in the late 1880s. However, she embezzled the Imperial Navy funds in order to do so, and spent the majority of the money on an enormous marble boat. It is said to symbolize China's staying
power
and stability; however, with lack of funds, the Imperial Navy had a difficult time defending the country.
As we were walking around the Summer Palace grounds, I noticed that one of the tour members looked awfully familiar. My brother struck up a conversation with him, and as it turns out, he was in my graduating class in high school! I am constantly amazed, but at the same time not at all surprised, by the random people and occurrences I experience while living in China. I once ran into a classmate from Chinese class at a street market in Beijing; neither of us had known the other was studying in China that summer.
After the Summer Palace, we walked through the Forbidden City. My brother, in an attempt to be clever, kept asking me why we could walk through it if it was forbidden. Har har. Obviously, it was once forbidden to commoners, but is now a cultural relic and oft-visited tourist site. Apart from being the residence of the emperor and his concubines. the annual exams were also held within the forbidden walls. Manly scholars from all over China would arrive in Beijing for a week's worth
of exams testing their knowledge of the Chinese classics, poetry and calligraphy. Those that tested well would be offered posts in the government while those who tested poorly would return home in shame to try again the following year.
The tourists swarming around me were dressed in tank tops, crop tops, shorts and even less. Me? I was bundled up in a nice pair of cargo shorts and a long-sleeved waffle shirt. Call me crazy, but it really wasn't that hot. Humid, yes, but not yet to the point of "I'm melting! I'm melting!" (That will be in August. Oh, the things to look forward to). At any rate, the air-conditioning on the tour bus and in the hotel was way too cold for my taste. That, or I've finally succumbed to the Chinese belief that air conditioning is bad for your health. It has something to do with making your inner qi (chi, as we write it in Ameriker) frigid, which skews the balance of yin and yang (cold and hot).
By the time we reached our final destination, Tiananmen Square, I have to admit that I was beginning to agree with the belief of the majority
that it was, indeed, a bit warmish outside. As we stood in a circle around David, our tour guide, I noticed the usually persistant-to-the-point-of-obnoxious vendors had stopped hawking their wares to gawk at my brother's arms. Reid has 2 enormous tattoos on each bicep, as well as a substantial tattoo that covers most of his left calf. One of them summoned up the courage to gingerly rub her finger across his skin: yes, it is real! It doesn't rub off! The male vendors were enamored with the dragon on his right arm while the women loved the fairy on his left. He was lucky he'd gotten rid of his blue mohawk; otherwise, he would have never been left alone!
DAY TWO
SATURDAY. JUNE 23, 2007
Today we journeyed to the Great Wall. Most tourist groups will visit the Badaling section, which is the most restored and therefore least authentic. The section we visited, Mutianyu, has had its fair share of restoration over the years, but also retains some of the original wall, crumbling stone which can be seen from a safe distance away. Rebellious souls such as my parents will trek up the Great Wall in 105
degree heat and even continue past the signs warning 'danger to go past this place result in big harm to self'. Some might call it reckless; they call it living life to the fullest.
I think climbing the Great Wall was my brother's sole reason for coming to China; after all, he saw me for the first 20 years of his life. The weather was still hazy, but my parents proclaimed it the clearest day they had seen in 2 visits to China. (Take what you can get, I suppose). We saw the usual unusual sights whilst climbing the wall: Buddhist monks sweating mightily in their heavy yellow robes, an elderly man selling water while his donkey waited patiently nearby, Caucasian parents with Chinese children who'd returned to learn more about the culture, and the most curious sight of all: me, hiking up and down the hills of the Wall, merely a week after I'd proclaimed I'd never go hiking again after the infamous Miaofeng Mountain incident (oh, the things we do for the people we care about). Every time I climb the Great Wall, I think about the countless laborers who were likely buried within the wall itself
as they died during the brutal labor required for the Wall construction.
After lunch, we took a walk along the Sacred Way, near the Ming Tombs. I'd never been to that particular site, so I was surprised to see that the tombs were not actually visible from the mile-long path. Instead, enormous statues of various animals stood along the walkway, guarding the entrance to the tombs. It made me think of a type of modern Noah's Ark, with the camels, lions and other creatures guarding two by two.
That evening was free, and this time I took the family out in style. We had dinner at a fabulous Indian restaurant located in the bowels of a brand-new upscale mall called "The Place" in English (the English names usually have nothing to do with the Chinese ones. Go figure). Before we had our meal, we took in the enormous TV screen outside that stretched the length of the mall. Every night after sundown, various graphics and small shows are played on the screen. I believe it is the largest screen in Asia, if not the world. I expected my parents and brother to be impressed and pay homage to
the miracles of Chinese technology, but instead they grumbled about how hungry they were, so rather than risk the angst of a hungry mob (can a mob consist of merely 3 people?) I led them inside to Ganges Restaurant, where we ate, drank and were merry.
DAY THREE
SUNDAY. JUNE 24, 2007
Sunday was a day of shopping. Needless to say, my Dad and brother were less than thrilled, but they wound up enjoying themselves by taking in the sights and smells (especially the smells) of Beijing. Our first stop of the day was the Panjiayuan (Dirt Market). Originally, the vendors would spread their wares on blankets on the ground, hence the English name. The Panjiayuan is a market in which one may purchase Chinese scrolls, pots, jewelry, silk products and the like. Although 99% of the products are recently manufactured, if one has a good eye and is lucky, a genuine antique can be found. My parents wandered around the outdoor menagerie of gigantic stone lions and huge carved buddhas. They thought a few of the statues would look nice in their yard near the stream, but quickly realized that the 6 foot lion would not
easily
fit into carry-on luggage. There went that dream.
I really enjoy going to the Dirt Market for all my decorating needs as it is located in a local Chinese neighborhood and the vast majority of the people browsing through the enormous selection of goods are Chinese. Contrary to our later stops in the day, these vendors don't call out "Hello! Hello!" when a Westerner is spotted, nor do they grab the arm of an unsuspecting tourist with an iron fist. I helped my Mom with the purchase of 2 gorgeous Chinese scrolls as my Dad and brother wandered off in search of who knows what. I was happy to see that the vendors of fake animal furs were nowhere to be seen; they may be fake, but when thrust in my face, they appear quite real.
The walk from my apartment to the Panjiayuan (which we were not lucky enough to have done; instead, motorcoach transported us from the hotel to the market) gives me such an insight into the 'real' China. The street sweepers slowly shuffle alongside the curb, their ancient brooms swooshing back and forth as the dust they strain to be rid of flies
into the air and settles back into the street. Old men sit together in small groups next to the sidewalk, playing cards or Chinese chess, smoking cigarettes and loudly talking. Grandmothers push strollers containing babies with wide, inquisitive eyes who hold my gaze and refuse to blink, as if not to miss a moment of this strange vision before them. When I walk through the gates in front of the market, I am thrown into the midst of frantic activity. Children run back and forth, playing and shrieking with the kind of unrestrained joy that only children seem to possess. Vendors shake their colorful baubles and enthusiastically gesture towards their artistic masterpieces as passersby slow down for a second glance. Voices mingle together, accents heard from all over North China. I can almost walk unnoticed through this hub of activity, blending in with the other Beijingers in search of a good bargain. It is one of my favorite places in the city.
In stark contrast to the Dirt Market, the Pearl Market is a tourist locale. Every vendor knows at least a few sentences in English, and the clever ones know sentences in Spanish, Russian and Cantonese as well.
I've lived in Beijing long enough to consider myself "one of them"; therefore, I was thoroughly embarrassed to be walking in a single-file line with the rest of the tour, following the tour organizer as ducklings would follow their mother. This was made all the worse by the fact that I could understand the vendors who were poking fun and snickering at our method of shopping. Luckily for me, I have an understanding mother who shooed me outside to wait with my Dad and brother, thus saving me from further humiliation.
After swimming and resting at the hotel, the group headed to Beihai Lake for an Imperial Dinner at Fang Shan Restaurant. David, our guide, was very accommodating for the three vegetarians in the group (myself included) and made sure we had plenty to eat. I've found that being a vegetarian in China is not as easy as I'd once assumed it to be. While there are many vegetables, I'm not terribly fond of the Chinese ones; I miss the raw carrots, peppers, broccoli and cauliflower with dip from home. No one eats raw vegetables here. I imagine it has something to do with the type of fertilizer used
and possible contamination. Better safe than sorry.
Our scheduled boat ride on Beihai Lake was canceled, due to stormy weather. For the past 8 months, I'd been telling my family how extremely dry Beijing is, with the winds from Siberia and the sand from the Gobi Desert, and here it was absolutely pouring outside. Their doubtful faces mocked me, and I willed the rain to stop, merely to prove my point. Though there was talk of heading to Houhai, an area of many tiny bars around another man-made lake, the weather dampened the spirits of many, and we all called it a night.
DAY FOUR
MONDAY. JUNE 25, 2007
Free day! While the rest of the tour took part in the optional trip to Xi'an to see the Terracotta Army, I used the opportunity to show my parents and brother some city sights they would not experience on the tour. After picking up some tea for my aunt at the Lao She Tea House (inside, there is a statue of President Bush (the first one) shaking hands with the tea house manager), we took a cab ride out to the suburbs of Beijing, near the neighborhood
where I'd lived with a host family in 2005. The plan was to spend the day showing my parents my apartment, the school where I work and taking part in some relaxing activities to gear up for the next couple days of strenuous touring. Relax, we did. Our first stop was at Ya Xiu Market, where my mom and I planned to enjoy a manicure/pedicure and my brother and Dad were looking forward to getting a massage. Little did they know, Chinese massage is very different from Western massage...
Mom and I were lulled into a meditative state as we reclined in armchairs, surrounded by 4 technicians who diligently worked on our hands and feet. The atmosphere was relaxed and peaceful. Exerting great effort, I turned my head to the right to see how Dad and Reid were enjoying their massages. My brother was bent double at the waist as his masseuse vigorously dug her elbows into his spine, while my father's head was pressed into the back of his chair as his masseuse kneaded his face with her thumbs. Neither looked terribly relaxed or comfortable and I silently congratulated myself on making the right choice. Chinese massage can
be quite rough and painful to the untrained Western senses. The goal is more about increasing blood flow and working out deep tissue knots than the type of relaxing and pleasurable massage we're used to in the States. The body will usually feel relaxed after the fact, but the massage itself can be quite unpleasant. I was thankful that Dad and Reid had elected to have the 30 minute instead of 60 minute massage.
However, Mom was in for some unpleasant surprises of her own. Following the advice of her pedicurist, her feet and legs were drizzled with hot wax and wrapped in saran wrap in order to make them smooth and soft. I don't think she expected the wax to be as hot as it was! The expression on her face was priceless, and I made sure to snap a couple shots before I asked them to cool it down.
While Mom waited for her smooth new feet to be revealed, I escorted Dad and Reid around the shopping area. Soon enough, Reid spotted the perfect Beijing souvenir that he simply had to have: a gas mask from the 1970s. When I questioned him why he would
want to purchase such an atrocious thing, he replied that it would come in handy for the Madison Halloween Celebration. If you've never experienced the 40,000+ crowd on Halloween weekend, well, you're lucky. The first 3 years I was in college, the celebration ended in riots, complete with window smashing and pepper spray. The holiday has turned into more of an exercise in police training than a fun celebration, but revelers continue to turn up year after year.
The feet were polished, the appropriate face mask purchased and Dad's wallet considerably lighter. It was time to move on to my apartment and place of work. My parents and brother were impressed with the modern-looking skyscrapers that dot the sky in the Central Business District, where I work. I gave them a tour of the school and they were able to meet a few students and my Chinese teacher, who really made me look good by telling them that my Chinese is "perfect, very standard" (in Chinese, standard is a good thing. It means that your accent is the kind that newscasters and radio announcers strive for). Glowing from this remark, I led them down the road to my apartment.
On the way, my dad commented that he would be worried if I lived in New York or Chicago in an area like this. I will admit that the small shops and old apartment buildings lining the sidewalks do give it a bit of a 'ghetto' feel. However, his concerns were silenced once we reached my apartment complex. Surrounded by gates manned with security guards, bright green trees and beautiful flowers fill the area, making the already lush landscaping appear even more posh. In some areas, peacocks preen in the sun, while giant koi swim in the enormous man-made lake on the premises. It truly is a world away from everything outside of the gates. I couldn't imagine living in a place like that on a teacher's salary in the United States.
After wowing my family with my apartment, we went to dinner at one of my favorite restaurants in Beijing, 1001 Nights. Middle Eastern food is accompanied by nightly belly-dancing and an extravagant ambiance. Towards the end of the meal, it began to rain heavily and one of the waiters held a patio umbrella over the 4 of us as we hailed a cab in the nick of
time.
After all the walking, talking and eating of the day, we were all ready for a good night's sleep in our luxurious hotel.
DAY FIVE
TUESDAY. JUNE 26, 2007
Waking up on Tuesday morning, I realized that the 26th marked 2 months since my Grandma had passed away. I lay in bed, unable to process the fact that those 2 months felt like an eternity but at the same time, the blink of an eye. She had been such a central figure in all of our lives, it felt strange not to have her around anymore to talk to, or talk about. I thought that when my family came to Beijing, I would not feel that something was missing anymore but I finally realized that it will take time to feel whole again. The truth is that none of us can go back to the way it was, or the way we were, but we can start down a different path that can also be a happy one. When I realized that, and finally believed that, I felt peace wash over me.
Tuesday wound up being my favorite day on the tour. We journeyed to
a hutong near Houhai Lake and were chauffeured on rickshaws by old men with bulging calf muscles to the home of a local Chinese couple. The husband won the Chinese National Artist award for one of his paintings and is famous throughout China. My parents had visited the home when they came to see me in 2005 and so were happy to return and purchase more beautiful artwork. The couple still lives in a hutong that has been in the family for generations. "Hutong" is a Mongolian word meaning 'water well'. At the time these neighborhoods were constructed, each was built around a central well; hence, its namesake. Each doorway is raised above street level so when it did rain and the alleys inevitably flooded, the home itself would not be damaged by water. Traditionally, hutongs are homes that surround a courtyard on all four sides, and each 'siheyuan', or 'courtyard' is joined to the next to form neighborhoods. Only about half of the nearly 3,000 original hutongs remain in Beijing today. They are being bulldozed to make way for high-rise apartment buildings or upscale shopping districts as the city continues to develop. However, some of the hutongs have been
designated as a protected zone by the government, due to their status as a cultural relic of sorts. Unfortunately, I believe that all of the hutongs will be demolished at some point as China continues its economic rise.
After our adventure in the hutong, we returned to the hotel to rest up before our big night out on the town. We were treated to a Peking duck dinner before taking in a kung fu show. You may recall that for each meal we ate together as a group, the three vegetarians (including myself) were seated together so we could order extra special dishes aside from the meat dishes sure to turn up at each meal. My father and brother found it hilarious that the one vegetarian table was seated directly in front of the window of hanging duck carcasses. I was not quite as amused.
After an hour and a half of watching limber and muscular young Chinese men spin on spears, break concrete over their faces, fight each other with spears and flip themselves into a frenzy, it was time to call it a night. The next morning would mark our last full day together in Beijing
and
it was with very mixed feelings that I'd already begun to think of returning to my normal routine.
DAY SIX
WEDNESDAY. JUNE 27, 2007
I woke this morning with a heavy heart. Although I'd found myself missing my students, my apartment and my normal life at times over the past week, the thought of my family leaving me in China and returning to the United States was upsetting. I tried to rationalize both to myself and my parents that even if I'd taken my first job in the U.S. instead of in China, I wouldn't see them often anyway, but the 7,000 miles separating us made a big impression on my subconscious. As we visited the Lamasery Temple, observing people burning incense and praying in front of various alters and watching the monks swathed in yellow robes silently walking to and fro, I reflected on how I'd changed over the past 8 months. My grandmother's death and the subsequent mourning period by myself was a big factor in how I've matured this year. For the first time, instead of feeling the need to be comforted, I wanted to comfort others. I sent funny emails back home
in an attempt to lift their spirits and reminded my family about all the hilarious and quirky things my grandmother did. In helping them, I helped myself. My mom commented that my reaction and the way I was dealing with her loss was reminiscent of the way she, herself, would have reacted and that, more than a lot of things, helped me to continue on.
It was a couple months ago, as I sat in the seminar room, surrounded by my colleagues during our weekly teachers' meeting, that I realized I am working at my first 'real' job. Although some of my coworkers disagree, calling teaching English in a foreign country more of a gap year activity than a job, I beg to differ. We have an enormous responsibility to teach our students English, which is sometimes no easy task. We have meetings, obligations, dress codes and are required to think quickly and often make on-the-spot decisions. Of course this is a 'real' job! Additionally, at the end of the day when we are tired, we have to go out into a country that is not our own, into a culture that is drastically different and fend for ourselves.
In many ways, I believe this job is more difficult than many first jobs that college graduates have out of college. The added factor of working overseas can really take a toll if one does not take care of oneself. I feel that I've become more responsible, learned to spend carefully on a (very) tight budget, dealt with problems as they've arisen and remained true to myself in the process. Living so far away from home has taught me more than any first job could have, and to me, that's priceless.
DAY SEVEN: THE RETURN HOME
THURSDAY. JUNE 28, 2007
We awoke at the ungodly hour of 4:45 AM. The tour group was scheduled to leave the hotel at 6 AM so as to avoid morning rush hour traffic and get to the airport with plenty of time for their 9:05 AM flight to Japan, the first of 3 legs back to the beautiful country. (I'm not being nostalgic; the translation from Chinese to English of America is literally “beautiful country”). After stuffing our faces with more delicacies, we gathered in the lobby. Various people from the tour came up to me to thank me for the
advice and tips I'd doled out over the past week. I was really impressed with how calm and content nearly everyone had been over the course of the tour, no matter the weather (usually smoggy and humid), the tourist site (being attacked by overzealous vendors) or the food (at times, unidentifiable). Of course, the tour guide can make or break the tour, and David had done a superb job. No one could believe how fast the week had flown by.
I stood with my parents near the window, trying to stave off the inevitable, but as people began filing out the door to board the bus, the tears began flowing freely. I think it would have been easier for me if I'd known for certain that I would return home after my contract ends in October, but I keep thinking about the fact that I'm 23, with no obligations tying me down at home, and this is the time in my life to travel. On that vein of thought, I'd like to travel to other places besides China-- I'd love to see Eastern Europe, Southeast Asia, Africa and each country that represents my background: Norway, the Czech Republic, Poland
and Ireland. However, there are many things that draw me back to the United States as well. Yesterday was the Fourth of July, and as you may expect, no one celebrated it here. There was some good-natured ribbing at work between the American and British teachers and most of the American teachers dressed in red, white or blue to mark the day, but it certainly wasn't the same. There was no grilling out with friends and family. No fireworks displays. No parades. No playing of the national anthem. I remedied that slightly by listening to the version of the Star-Spangled Banner I have on my iPod, and I have to admit that I got a little choked up. As I sang the lyrics in my head, it became clear to me just how lucky we are to live in the United States.
Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag
was
Mom getting her feet wrapped in hot wax
No one ever said beauty was painlessstill there.
Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
The land of the free? That is not China. I hesitate to write more than that, because I am certain that the enormous censoring task force will block this blog if I were to do so. Isn't that incredible? There are so many things I love about China, but there are other things that are starting to emerge that I do not. In making a decision about where I will live, all of these things must be taken into consideration. I digress. As I was listening to the national anthem, I recalled the first symphony concert I went to, about a week after September 11, 2001. The program featured a Tchaikovsky piano concerto with a visiting Russian orchestra. After the conductor walked onto the podium, he lifted his baton and the orchestra proceeded to play the American National Anthem. I will never forget the audible gasps that echoed in the concert hall, nor the sound as 2,000 patrons rose to their feet.
As one, we sang our national anthem and there was not a dry eye in the house. In remembering that, I felt patriotic on that day, Independence Day, all the way over here in China. I suppose it doesn't matter where you live; you will always have pride in your country.
After I said goodbye to my parents, my brother loitered near the door, clearing thinking about how to express what he was thinking. Finally, he told me that it was only 3 months, that we would see each other soon, and that he did enjoy his time in China. With that, he slipped out the door after my parents and I was alone again.
It's now been just a week since I said goodbye to my family, but it feels eons longer. I know the time between now and October will fly by (it's already July!). It was wonderful to see them, but it also feels good to be back to my daily routine, living my own life and making my own decisions. I still don't know what I will do come October, but I still have time to figure it out. As I told my Dad
before I left last October, if I can last a year in China on my own, I can do anything. I believe that now more than ever.
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Thai
non-member comment
Good grief! Your wrote a small novel here! Ai ya! Nevertheless I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. That dog is awesome! Poor fella is all tuckered out...so cute. Lastly, you have definitely grown these past 8 months and continue to do so. And I couldn't agree with you more, after living in China on your own for a year, you can do anything. I have without a doubt you'll do a lot more than just anything.