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Published: March 4th 2007
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I had a funny feeling in my stomach throughout the day. Not quite nervous bees flying around, but rather a twisting knot that continuously retied itself deep inside my gut. And no, it was not La Duzi.
I was simply nervous about the afternoon ahead. Today I was moving from my comfortable room at Youdian Liaoyang Hotel near Peking University to my new home somewhere in Beijing. Not just a new room though, but a new family. Late last semester, a friendly conversation with my study program’s coordinator about the winter vacation ahead somehow landed me on the list for the spring term’s home-stay opportunities. Exactly one week ago, I was notified with the slightest tidbit of information - that indeed I would be living with a Chinese family this semester. That though, was absolutely all I heard.
Until Friday, when a meeting was called for home-stay students to come to the office and sign housing contracts. More like sign away your soul. While the rules weren’t too strict, a 10:30pm weekday curfew and a bullet list of vague statements regarding the quality of our new abodes had me more than a bit nervous. Soon though, we
Flags of Beijing
Flags hanging at a Temple Fair were taken outside to have a quick talk with our new families. Sadly though, mine had forgotten about me…their new son.
Well, so it seemed. Our coordinators had notified us that we would be living with Peking University faculty, some retired and some new. Mine though, was right in the thick of it. Flying through the door nearly an hour late, Zhou Laoshi was between meetings and had to simply shake hands and run. We quickly scheduled a pick-up time for Sunday afternoon, and he was again back out the door. Not exactly the first impression you want out of a man you will spend three months of your life with. Luckily though, first impressions are rarely correct.
This brings the story to now, with me sitting in a freezing lobby waiting for my ride. A cold front slammed hard in to Beijing the day before, leaving the first blanket of snow I had seen in China. Two other friends had already loaded up and headed out with their adopted families, and so I was both anxious and terrified to get going as well. A yellow taxi rolls up in front. Time to head out.
Zhou Laoshi jumped from the cab with a giant grin across his face. “Wen Bohan!” he shouted with glee. With a wave, I immediately get to the task of loading up my six bags, my six very heavy bags. “Zheme duo!” Yeah, it really is a lot, but Zhou was right behind me, lugging it all with joy.
To the streets. While his place had to be near the university, I still had no previous idea of its location. I watched the driver with a stern gaze, praying that he turned right to the newer area of the neighborhood rather than left to the dilapidated section. Right it was, and I couldn’t be happier.
We arrived at the apartment complex after a few minutes of traffic. While I thought I knew my way around the area, I honestly have no idea of my exact location in relation to the school or streets. But that didn’t matter for now; I just needed to see the house. A rather comical interlude occurred as we entered the main entrance. While we struggled with the oxen that were my bags, my plastic tea cup shot to the floor, sending
Zhou in to a tizzy of frantic lunges as he darted for the bouncing cup. Two fifty-pound bags gave him just the momentum he needed to swing wildly in the atrium, all with a giant smile of embarrassment. I repeatedly assured him it wasn’t a problem, no worries about the cup, which I guess he took as his opportunity to it all a second time when he dropped the cup again.
While the outside left me a bit worried for the state of its interior, a short ride on a bleak, gray elevator changed that right around. An absolutely huge apartment, I was greeted by his wife and young high school-age son. I gave my best smile and greetings, and was quickly given some sandals for inside wear on the wood floors. A large living room was directly to my left, a ping-pong table consuming most of it with two small chairs at its side. I was quickly led to my room in the back.
There is only one way to describe it - grand. This of course is by Chinese standards, but nevertheless, a twin bed, shelves and closet, and a desk fit only for a CEO
are now my companions for the new spring term. I went to the job of unpacking my extraneous amount of souvenirs and clothes, accompanied by a hot cup of tea delivered by my newly-acquired third grandma, who miraculously appeared as I planned out my underwear drawer.
After that business was done, it was time to learn a bit about my new family. I talked with Zhou briefly about my travels during the holidays, and he discussed his various trips to the US. Detroit for pleasure? Apparently so. Third question out of his mouth was whether I liked to smoke cigarettes and drink alcohol. Wondering where he got that one from, I quickly remembered I had just given a boxed set of wine as a welcome gift. Gotcha.
After his wife joined us for a while, it was time to eat, and tonight we would be dining on something special. While dumplings were a staple during lunch time last semester, good, home-cooked Jiaozi are hard to come by. By some lucky twist, tonight was the Lantern Festival, the last day of Chinese New Year and a perfect time for wrapping dumplings. And so Mr. and Mrs. Zhou, with their
Rubbing Lucky Characters
Rub each character to form a sentence and bring luck in the New Year. One popular rub: "Wo you da qian!" Big money! new son, made a feast of jiaozi to end this year’s celebrations. Nainai (grandma) joined us only to laugh a few times at my wrapping skills.
Now absolutely stuffed with pork dumplings, it was time for one last tradition. Though utterly freezing outside, we needed to get out and wreak havoc on the night’s peace with some fireworks. As soon as we stepped out, a blast of cold wind sent the door slamming behind us. Tornado-like conditions couldn’t stop tonight’s festivities though, as families gathered between the looming apartment towers to marvel at the explosions overhead. And when I say overhead, I mean literally just above your head, as people prefer to simply through giant fireworks in to the air rather than using a fuse to send them high in to the sky. Still, it was something special to see as little 5 year-olds ran through the black streets with bottle rockets in hand, bright, shimmering explosions all around them, lighting up the faces of their families looking on.
I think I’ll like it here…
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claire bryant
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Way to go Trojan
Hi...just back from a visit with grandma Brandy and grandpa John in Tubac and enjoying "blogs" from grandson... like I knew what a "blog" was, right? We are a little old for this nonsense (computers) but I finally figured it out and even guessed that you might be the Trojan (did she tell me that?) and I LOVED reading about your first day in your new home. I'm the Kappa who traveled the world before settling down in the 60s...so relish your tales. Keep it up! Claire