Hello, Goodbye

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It was a dark and stormy night... Okay, okay, it was actually neither dark nor stormy, but it sure felt that way, given that I had locked myself out of my apartment on the eve of my departure for Kunming, the capital of Yunnan province. With that fiasco out of the way, I felt certain that my five-day respite in the City of Eternal Spring would be just that.

And, for once, I was right.

I left on a Tuesday evening, flying into the tropical capital at 10:30 at night. Gazing down at the twinkling lights below the wing of the plane as we began our descent, I noted the clarity and sharpness of the architecture laid out below me. Oh, right. This is what a city looks like when not viewed through a perpetual layer of smog! The number of blue sky days in Beijing is increasing, to be sure, but our best days cannot begin to compare with the clean air of Kunming. As I stepped out onto the tarmac, I took deep gulps of clean air- and immediately doubled over in pain, my hardened lungs assaulted by the atrocity of no pollution. It would take a few days to adjust.

I was in Yunnan to visit my aunt and cousin, the same relatives who had journeyed to Beijing to celebrate the Chinese New Year with me back in February. Our itineary was simple- I would simply join in on their daily activities, breathe fresh air, and enjoy a break from the daily grind. Little did I know that my celebrity status in China was about to be reinstated...

Wednesday morning I awoke at the luxurious hour of 8 AM. I decided to take my aunt up on her invitation to visit her classes, so I wandered over to the foreign language teaching building to check out the action. I knocked on her door, figuring she had mentioned that her niece might be visiting. If she had, it was not apparent from the students' reactions when I walked in the door. You would have thought that Yao Ming had just graced the class with his presence from the hoots and hollers that heralded my arrival. There was even a spontaneous burst of applause from some especially daring young men in the class. With a mischievous glint in her eye, my aunt invited me to take her place at the front of the room for a Q&A style lesson designed to encourage the students to practice their oral English by asking me questions about whatever struck their fancy.

Did they ever.

At first, no one said a word, looking at me with awestruck expressions. Then, one young lady timidly raised her hand. When I nodded in her direction, she stood next to her desk and, with carefully practiced pronuncation, asked, "Do you like China?" Flushed pink with satisfaction over successfully delivering her question to me, she quickly sat down and looked up at me expectantly. Do I like China? What a silly question! I assured the class that, in fact, I loved China and was happy to be here for as long as it felt right. That served to enliven the mood; several hands shot up. I nodded toward a boy sitting close to the window. He turned red and giggled. No, he didn't have a question, but his friend did. He practically ripped his friend's arm out of the socket trying to get him to stand up. When his friend finally did, he was too embarrassed to look at me, and so directed his question toward the window. "Do you like swimming?" Yes, I assured the class, I did like swimming, but it was still too cold in Beijing to do much about that. The young man tried again. "I would like to see you swimming." What? My aunt clarified for me: he wanted to see me in a swimming suit. Oh. Um. Well. Next question.

As the class went on, the students became bolder with their questions- though no one matched the swimming suit boy in assertiveness. By lunchtime, I was exhausted. The twenty minutes spent taking individual photos with each student in the class probably had something to do with it. Since the 2008 Olympic Games were held in Beijing, foreigners have become old hat to Chinese living in the capital city, so it was both hilarious and humbling to receive the celebrity treatment while visiting Kunming.

The week wasn't about celebrity, however. The week was about reconnecting with family and, as it turned out, meeting new 'family' as well. One of the nicest surprises I've had since moving abroad has been the discovery that wherever I am, I have the support of a family unit. In the United States, of course, that unit is comprised of my parents, brother, grandmother, aunts, uncles, and cousins. In China, I have a Chinese 'mom,' 'dad,' and 'sister,' an American aunt and cousin, and many friends from around the globe who are like family. I was pleased to learn that my aunt and cousin have adopted several new 'family members' in Kunming as well. I met Leon, my aunt's 'nephew' and Ya-Li's Chinese tutor, and Jack, the jolly family 'uncle.' Jack Shushu, or Uncle Jack, spent the evening trying to convince me to move to Kunming. He mentioned the air in Beijing (bad) and the air in Kunming (outstanding). He talked about the weather in Beijing (cold and windy) and the weather in Kunming (warm and sunny). He talked about the political system in Beijing (down the road) and the system in Kunming (out of sight, out of mind). Jack had many, many reasons I should pack up and move to Kunming, but not a one struck a chord with me. Beijing is home.

The following day, we visited the open-air Bird and Flower Market. I first considered taking a trip to Kunming in 2007; the market had been at the top of my list of must-see places. However, in the ensuing three years, the area has undergone a major facelift- and not in a good way. From its origins as a tiny alley lined with fabric-roofed stalls, the market had become a tourist mecca, complete with paved walkways, newly rebuilt multi-story buildings, and uniformed security guards stationed every few meters to keep order. Though the array of goods for sale was still mind-boggling, the authentic, local market feel I had been anticipating was completely absent.

Many cities throughout China have fallen victim to a similar fate. In China's rush to modernize, the local flavor and charm of many cities is getting lost. At present, a major debate is raging in Beijing over the possible renovation of the Drum and Bell Tower area, which is supposedly a national protected cultural relic site. One of the contributing factors to my initial fascination with China was these undiscovered, local areas where people went about their daily lives and no one was putting on a show for the tourists. It is sad to think these areas may all disappear in the next few years.

On the final day I spent in Kunming, my aunt and cousin took me to Green Lake. Situated near the center of the city and close to the artsy, expat-friendly district, the lake was a sight to see, indeed. I fell in love with the area- tiny coffee shops lined the streets next to funky clothing boutiques and international restaurants (RMB 35 for a salmon omelette! That would be RMB 70+ in Beijing). The lake area was teeming with young families, elderly kite-fliers, and students out enjoying the beautiful spring day. My aunt recounted her memories of strolling around the lake with a newly-adopted one-year-old Ya-Li in her arms; Ya-Li claimed to remember that day as well. Despite a brief interlude of dark clouds and rain that came up as suddenly as they departed, we spent an enjoyable afternoon catching up and even treated ourselves to authentic Italian gelato, which, of course, made me think of the wonderful trip I took to Italy with my brother last summer.

All too soon, I found myself in a taxi heading to Kunming International Airport. The flight home was uneventful; given the late hour, I assumed we would taxi right up to the terminal to deplane.

Nope.

As a result of unexpected turbulence, we arrived later than scheduled- around 10:30 PM. The pilot landed a bit too fast and we overshot our turn into the taxiway. As we waited for a small motorized pushcart to help the plane back up, I watched with amusement as impatient travelers began unbuckling their seatbelts and hauling their carry-ons out of the overhead bins. Frantic flight attendants rushed up and down the aisles, cajoling their fellow Chinese citizens to sit back down and be patient. This phenomenon is nothing new- everyone in China seems to have a manic need to be the first one off the plane. I have been shoved aside by tiny, birdlike grandmothers who refuse to wait while I retrieve my bag.

Finally, everyone sat back down, but the atmosphere was tense. Eyes were alert, feet were tapping, and bodies were coiled and ready to spring up at the slightest sign of the cabin door opening. I silently willed the pilots to get a move-on before I was crushed in what was sure to be a stampede. The plane moved at an unbearable crawl; the pilots were obviously terrified of overshooting their mark again. We must have taxied for twenty minutes before stopping in what looked like the middle of nowhere. Everything around us was dark; I couldn't even see the terminal building. No other planes were in sight. Out of nowhere, a flight of stairs rolled up to the side of the plane and the cabin door opened. A fellow foreigner made the rookie mistake of standing in the aisle as he attempted to get his jacket from the overhead bin; he was nearly trampled by the ensuing mass of running (yes, running) passengers that bolted for the door.

We piled into the airport shuttle, which took off like a rocket. Luckily, we were all stuffed in there so tightly that the sharp turns of the vehicle had no effect on balance. As we pulled up to the side of the terminal, I could have sworn that I saw the plane we had just vacated being parked next to an open walkway. But that couldn't be right- could it? In China, one never knows. This philosphy was proven correct when I got into a taxi to head home to my apartment. My driver was an elderly man with huge, '80s style glasses, silver hair, and a pronounced stoop. I had to help him lift my carry-on suitcase into the trunk and mentally prepared myself for what would surely be a snail's pace ride home.

Shame on me and my pre-conceived notions of the elderly.

Not only did this grandfather step on it on our way into the city, he had his radio tuned to the foulest English-language rap station I have ever heard, bar none, and even tried to serenade me by singing along with what he thought were the words. I thought I was going to explode from my attempts to keep the laughter inside. That ride home from the airport was the perfect ending to what had already been an extremely enjoyable journey.

Although I was excited to see an area of China I had not visited before, the highlight of my trip was spending time with my aunt and cousin. I feel lucky to have my 'family' in Beijing and also now to have family in Kunming. The respite from the daily grind was just what I needed, and I returned to Beijing feeling reenergized and renewed. The opportunities I've been given while living in China are truly amazing and I feel lucky to be here.

Especially when I get to listen to the obscene rap talents of a Chinese grandfather.

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Photos

Buildings near the college campus
Architecture in Kunming was more similar to that of Tibet than what I see in Beijing

Class Picture
Posing with one of Aunt K's classes

This one's for you, Grandma!
The two cousins in front of a gigantic elephant

Japanese Dinner
Chinese-style Benihana

Ya-Li and Aunt K
The hotel in the background is where Aunt K stayed when she adopted Ya-Li in 1999