Patience is a virtue

Posted by Natalie in Beijing, china

In case you’re unaware, the current population estimate for China is somewhere around 1.3 billion. Beijing alone is home to at least 20 million, possibly even closer to 25 million. To state the glaringly obvious, that’s a lot of people.

Given such a massive population, you would think that people would naturally be used to, you know, having tons and tons and tons of other people around. And to a certain extent, they are. Cars turn right through crowds of pedestrians as if the street were completely clear. When a bus has reached capacity, people feel perfectly comfortable holding on the door handles and literally being closed into the vehicle. Shopping anywhere on the weekend generally means getting carried along in the natural flow of other patrons and hoping you’re deposited in front of a stall selling what you need.

To me, however, another byproduct of being around so many other humans should be developing a certain threshold for waiting. It seems to go hand-in-hand. The more people there are in a city, the more people there are between you and what you need to be doing. Yet, somehow, the residents of Beijing have what can only be described as a patience allergy.

There are two ways back to my apartment from the main expat shopping area. One way takes you down an avenue with tons of traffic lights, where you eventually must wait for an eternity to make a left onto my street. The other way weaves you through a neighborhood, avoiding the traffic lights and just driving straight South down my street. I think you can guess which way is my favorite.

The only problem with the second route is that, between 6am and 8pm, cars are not allowed to drive South down my street. In a city where red lights are merely suggestive and the sidewalk is often considered an extra lane, it blows my mind that taxi drivers always insist on following the no-drive rule on my street. This means that I can only take this route at night.

One night last week I’m heading home and giving the taxi driver step-by-step instructions on how to get there. We get almost to my street when he panics and tells me that we can’t drive down it. I tell him that it’s totally fine after 8pm, so he doesn’t need to worry. He looks at the clock and screams at me that it’s currently 7:57.

I try using my favorite phrase, telling him it’s ok 差不多, which roughly translates to telling him that 7:57 is realistically the same thing as 8. As I say this, I point to all the other cars driving down my street at that very moment. He’s furious, and says, “去不了!” “We can’t go!” Since we’ve already pulled over to the shoulder to have this argument, I use my lateral thinking skills and tell him I’m happy to wait 3 minutes and then make the trip. He’s so angry at this point that he nearly turns purple as he shouts, “等不了!” “We can’t wait!”

I try to speak slowly as I explain to him that those are the only two choices. Either we go, or we wait, it’s very simple. I tell him I really don’t mind waiting and it’s no inconvenience to me. Despite my grasp of the local dialect, what spews out of his mouth at this point is absolutely unintelligible to me. It’s like a cross between the Incredible Hulk and the teacher from Charlie Brown. I have to stifle a laugh as I tell him I have no clue what he’s saying to me.

“If you can’t understand me, you should get out of my taxi!” he shouts back. I smile, and point to the clock. It’s now 8pm. Very sweetly, I tell him that we can now drive down my street without any worries. Never mind that in three minutes of waiting he made a few extra kuai on the trip. Without wasting fuel, I may add, since he turned off his car during our little spat. Despite this, he is Mr. Grumbles all the way down the street to my apartment gate.

Fun with Fire

Posted by Natalie in Uncategorized and tagged with , , , , , , , , ,

Fireworks on Chinese New Year's Eve

Well folks, it’s that time of year again. 春节 Chūnjié (Spring Festival), known more commonly as Chinese New Year is coming to a close in Beijing. Which means that I finally have the peace of mind necessary to sit down and write. Well, almost. Tonight is the last legal night for setting off fireworks, which means that the explosions will probably kick into high gear in about an hour. [Edit: I was over-eager on this one. There's still a full week left of flash-bang-whoosh-boom.]

Playing with sparklers

When you grow up in a Western country, you tend to think of fireworks as an event. Meaning, it’s something official that a professional sets up and you go to a wide open place (like a field or a harbor) and watch the show. With a true communist spirit, in China fireworks are for everyone. Shopkeepers. Young couples. Drunk coworkers. Babies. Everyone. There are stalls set up all over the city that sell everything from nice safe shiny sparklers to giant boxes of full-on flashy fireworks. They also sell long strings of firecrackers that are meant to be loud rather than pretty.

It all relates back to a Chinese folk story. Basically, the New Year brings with it an angry, destructive dragon. In order to protect your home and family, you need to hang up red paper and set off explosions. Big, loud, ear-blasting explosions. This year also happens to mark the Year of the Dragon (龙). I’m not sure if that has special significance when it comes to the noise levels, but it has certainly seemed that way.

Riding on ice chairs in Chaoyang Park

It doesn’t help that my bedroom faces into the courtyard of my apartment building. This is lovely in the summer with the pond and trees and morning sun (when the smog lets it through). It is not so lovely in the winter when the empty concrete hole that used to be the pond is the building-sanctioned location for setting off fireworks. I love watching fireworks as much as the next person, but I’m really looking forward to a proper night’s sleep. Hopefully tomorrow night, fingers crossed.

Craftsman at Dongyue Temple Fair

In addition to fireworks, another 春节 tradition is 庙会 miàohuì (temple fairs). This year I went to two very different fairs: one was a carnival at a nearby park and the other was a traditional affair at my favorite Taoist temple. I love love love people watching at temple fairs. They’re places where people really let loose and get properly silly. They walk around in neon afro wigs and oversized sequined bow headbands while eating squid-on-a-stick. For the record, I skipped the wig but enjoyed the squid.

As much as I complain about the noise, there is something really enchanting about spending Spring Festival in Beijing. Because this is the capital, Beijing is also a city of migrants. Not just the migrant workers who are building its future infrastructure, but also white-collar businessmen and families looking for opportunities. This means that the majority of the city goes home during the week of 春节 to see their relatives, bring gifts and relate tales of urban splendor. Between bursts of explosions, Beijing actually feels a bit like a ghost town. All the little shops and restaurants are closed, there are plenty of seats on the bus and everyone left in the city is a real down-to-earth Beijinger. Every taxi driver I’ve had this week not only had the familiar pirate-esque Beijing accent but also knew exactly where my apartment is. It’s comforting and reminds me of the old days, when I first moved to China and all the taxi drivers were marble-mouthed locals.

But enough talk. If you really want to know what the seasonal madness looks like in Beijing, the best thing I can do is show it to you. Here’s the video I took on Chinese New Year’s Eve from the roof of my friend’s apartment. 新年快乐！Happy New Year!

Tis the season

Posted by Natalie in Uncategorized

Well-meaning, but ill-informed

When I first moved to China (waaaaay back in 2005), there was certainly a fascination with Christmas but not really any widespread celebration. It’s an easily accessible aspect of foreign culture: happy songs, cookies, shiny gold decorations and a man in a red suit. I remember seeing the occasional Christmas display, an odd tree here and there, but mostly the “holiday season” was marked by people constantly asking me what I was doing to celebrate. My answer of, “Nothing, I’m Jewish,” was met with general confusion. My students at the time were convinced that Christmas was an all-American holiday, as evidenced by their lovely classroom display.

Beijing Christmas in 2005

Now, there are Christmas events happening everywhere. I walked into Walmart on December 1st looking for a bargain humidifier and was immediately met with a huge display of fake Christmas trees and racks of decorations. My ears were bombarded with a constant loop of holiday music (I’m pretty sure they only had 3 or 4 songs on repeat) in a combination of Chinese and English. I suppose the shock and awe campaign did its job, because I ended up buying a few little decorations for my roommate. I also had “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” stuck in my head all night. Damn inception.

Beijing Christmas in 2011

Yesterday, I decided to go to a charity bazaar at the Beijing Hilton so I could poke around for a few little gifts for my buddies. I also planned to meet up with my friend Marie for a bit of gabbing and shopping. You know, a relaxing Saturday afternoon. Little did I know that the hotel was planning a massive tree-lighting ceremony in the lobby, complete with girls in little red dresses passing out cookies and all the free Glühwein you could handle. For me that turned out to be about 1 glass, because it was mulled with cheap Chinese wine that made my stomach turn (the cookies, however, were delicious). It was definitely a very different scene from what I saw 6 years ago, especially the cleverly sponsored toy train running loops around their massive tree.

Of course, even with a sparkling new tree, you can’t take the China out of Christmas. After they turned off all the lobby lights, but before they lit the tree, the hostess insisted on inviting people up to give speeches. First she gave a speech. Then the general manager gave a speech. Then some Chinese bureau chief gave a speech. Then some orphans gave a speech. Or maybe she gave a speech while the orphans stood there, I honestly couldn’t tell you because started tuning out mid-way through the GM’s babble. Meanwhile, you have dozens of parents with their kids waiting around in a dark room that had long since run out of cookies. It didn’t help that said kids were crammed full of those cookies and the sugary energy that naturally follows.

Luckily, after 45 minutes of nonsense, they finally got down to the important stuff. No, not the tree lighting. Santa.

After untangling his beard from the rope, the diminutive Santa stand-in was briskly escorted through the crowd by a bunch of bodyguards clearing the path as if he were the president. I think he was giving out candy to children, but it was hard to tell as he went by in such a blur. I suspect there were also some children jostled out of the way by the surly men in suits, who seemed more intent on just completing their lobby lap with Santa than delivering a fun experience for the people who showed up to see him.

My advice for celebrating Christmas in Beijing? Wear protective gear and bring your own booze. Then, let the merriment begin!

Santa's muscle

He's in there somewhere

Giving thanks

Posted by Natalie in adventure, baking, Beijing, china, chinese, friendship, happiness, happy thoughts, Thanksgiving, Uncategorized

Western-style ovens are not common in China. I own a sort of toaster oven on steroids, large enough to accomodate a dozen very strategically placed muffin cups. It is not large enough to handle a chicken, never mind a turkey. So, when questions of Thanksgiving dinner arose, my American friends and I were at a bit of a loss.

There were restaurants in Beijing selling cooked turkeys at the outrageous price of around 1,200 RMB on average ($190 – ouch). Our British coworker helpfully suggested we buy some roast duck instead; we helpfully suggested that he shut his damn dirty mouth. I thought all was lost, when I got an email ad about a Chinese turkey farm offering cooked birds for 40 RMB/jin (about 500g). Too good to be true?

Mike on Turkey Day

Cut to Monday evening, where I’m confirming with a go-between that I would in fact like for him to order me a turkey and that, no it wouldn’t be a problem that the smallest bird available was 20 lbs. I told Mike (my Thanksgiving partner-in-crime) the good news and he proceeded to, as he later admitted, “panic” at the size of the bird and invite everyone in his phonebook to dinner. Oh dear.

I started stressing out trying to organize side dishes, clean my apartment and invite my own friends, all while waiting anxiously to make sure the turkey actually arrived. Luckily for me (and my mystery house guests) the bird showed up to my office on Thursday morning, fully cooked, and accompanied by a ziplock bag of turkey innards and a pouch full of mystery sauce.

In the end, Thanksgiving turned out to be a major success. All the things I worried we would be missing (pie, gravy, cranberry sauce) miraculously appeared at my apartment in the arms of strangers new friends. Due to the lack of proper carving tools, I managed to rip the turkey wings and legs off with my bare hands (while another person held it down). And, in a classic “Oh, China” moment, I noticed that the bird had been sewn shut for reasons unknown to me.

A new Thanksgiving tradition?

Upon snipping one of the threads, rice started pouring out the bottom of my giant bird. That’s right, rice. Turns out the nice Chinese farmer who cooked my poultry thoughtfully included his version of stuffing when roasting the turkey. I can safely say this is the first Thanksgiving where I’ve had to yell, “Quick! Someone get a plate! There’s rice shooting out of the turkey!”

Ultimately, as cheesy as it sounds, I am thankful for the sense of family that so quickly develops in the expat community. I knew less than half the people eating from paper plates on my sofa (and every possible chair I could gather), but from the start of the evening we were laughing and chatting like old friends. There was delicious turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes (“The secret ingredient is butter,”) and even homemade sweet potato pie. Americans, Brits, Australians and Chinese came together to celebrate togetherness. It doesn’t get much better than that.

Of cabbages and kings

Posted by Natalie in Beijing, bizarre, china, chinese, shopping, Uncategorized

Beijing's favorite winter vegetable

There was terrible traffic. My alarm didn’t go off. The weather really slowed things up. There was a cabbage and fish sale at the grocery store.

As far as morning delays go, this is definitely a new one for me.

There’s a grocery store in the basement of the building where I work, and when I’m running early I’ll sometimes pop down there to grab breakfast. Fruit, some sort of tasty bun (my favorite is this spongy eggy pancake filled with shredded potatoes and carrots) and maybe a bottle of milk tea. It generally takes an extra 10 minutes out of my morning: 5 in the store and 5 in transit.

Last week I was on my way into the store when I noticed an unusually long line of old people waiting in the produce department. It struck me as odd right away because, well… standing in line is not something that comes naturally around here, especially among the elderly. The orderliness of it all was a bit surreal, to be honest. I grabbed a pre-weighed bag of oranges and was headed the bread counter for my eggy wrap when I was shocked to see what I thought was impossible – another line! This one was in the seafood department, equally long and equally populated with senior citizens.

I tried to shake it off and headed towards the registers with my loot. Unfortunately, this was where I was met with the lines I couldn’t bypass. I thought about abandoning my breakfast, but the shredded potatoes were calling to me (“It’s hibernation season! You need your starches! Delicious starches!”) and I was running fairly early. I’m actually glad I stuck it out, because the conversations in the check-out line were amazing.

Little old ladies were comparing their giant stacks of cabbages (I’m talking 20-30 cabbages per person) and seeing who got the best looking ones. They were marveling over the price and some were even considering sending their sidekicks on a second cabbage run to take advantage of the deal of the century. Better than this was the old men holding up their fish, still writhing and twitching in the little plastic bags that sealed their doom. I was the only one in line without a cabbage and/or fish, and I’m sure that sight was just as strange to my neighbors as they were to me.

And, for the record, I still managed to make it to work on time.

Broken record

Posted by Natalie in Uncategorized and tagged with , , , ,

Apologies (again) for my long absence. It hasn’t been for lack of interesting things to share, rather it’s been a combination of work schedule and laziness that has kept me away from you. To make up for the prolonged pause, I’ve migrated the blog over to WordPress (tada!) and made the site its very own official .com experience (taaadaaa!).

Rather than try to catch you up, I’ll just start from here.

On Tuesday’s walk to work I had a strange conversation in Chinese with the cashier at a local convenience store. I handed her a pile of stuff and after scanning it all into the register, she told me that my total was 17RMB. I handed her a 20RMB note. She held it up with both hands and asked me very slowly how much the bill was. With raised eyebrow, I told her that it was 20 RMB. She nodded her approval before asking me how much change I should receive. After raising the other eyebrow, I explained that 3RMB would be an appropriate amount of change. She lit up with a huge smile and told me what a good job I had done.

I’m still not sure if it was my Chinese or my math skills that impressed her.

A collection of happy thoughts

Posted by Natalie in beauty, Beijing, Bread Talk, china, happiness, happy thoughts, Muppet Show, 北京，老外

Over the past two weeks I’ve been taking mental snapshots, Cam Jansen style. Whenever I hit a patch of stress or exhaustion I like to bring them back to the forefront to remind myself to breathe. Disjointed and strange as they may be, I take comfort in these human moments and thought I would share them with you, in no particular order.

Every morning and every evening there is a young girl on this street (maybe 12 or so) who takes a walk down the block with her elderly grandfather. He uses a tall cane like a crutch and she holds on to his arm gently. They smile and talk and slowly move down the sidewalk as the city rushes past them.

One woman in the apartment building has a beautiful dog that looks to be a cross between a golden retriever and a collie. There is something strangely majestic about the way it comports itself. Every time I look at it passing by I feel as though it has an old soul.

This morning on the walk to work I encountered a hoard of middle school students waiting in front of a local hotel who seemed to be in the neighborhood for a marching band competition. Each school’s children wore different colored uniforms and many carried instruments taller than themselves. On the walk home in front of the same building the older women from the neighborhood were playing traditional drums and line dancing with mylar-fringed pompoms.

Over the weekend, sitting in a large pagoda at 日坛公园 (Sun Temple park), I paused my reading for an hour or so to do some people-watching. There were three older men in the pavilion wearing the red armbands of the community watch. They engaged in constant commentary of everything around them and it reminded me of the puppets in the balcony of the Muppet Show. At the other corner of the pagoda two even older men leaned against opposite sides of the same pillar, staring in opposite directions and saying nothing. They tipped their chins up towards the sun.

While on the bus, a woman standing right in front of me commented very loudly to her friend that there was a 老外 (foreigner) on the bus. When I turned to look her knowingly in the eye she was so embarrassed that she pulled her head into her sweater like a turtle.

I walked into my neighborhood convenience store one morning to the sounds of Lady Gaga. The only member of the family around at the time was an older man smoking a cigarette behind the cash register. Later that morning I (along with everyone else around) was treated to a complimentary shower at the bus stop, courtesy of the city worker who decided without warning to power wash the flyers from nearby telephone poles.

Bread Talk used to be my favorite snack shop. Turns out it still is.

Getting back in the swing of the Jing

Posted by Natalie in Abbot and Costello, adventure, banking, Beijing, bureaucracy, china, comedy

One of the things I love about Beijing is its ability to provide me with little moments of amusement throughout the day. There will eventually be things that drive me crazy, but as it is at the start of any relationship the quirks are charming rather than infuriating. Take, for example, opening a bank account. While this is usually a simple process, China has a way of delightfully complicating things. A person with less patience (and less love for forehead-slapping moments) may have stressed out over this, but I must admit that I chuckled my way through it.

When I arrived at the bank with my boss, an enthusiastic bank employee came over to help me fill out the application form while I waited for my number to be called. After I filled in my name on the wrong line, he took the form from me, ripped it up, and gave me a new one. I must have looked very confused by this protocol, so he explained that I can’t make any mistakes or else the form will not be accepted by the teller. Fair enough.

Take two, I wrote my nationality in the wrong box. Thought I could fix it by drawing a line through it, but Mr. Enthusiastic gave out a squeal of disapproval and confiscated the form. At this point the bank was running out of forms, so he took matters into his own hands. And by matters I mean the pen, out of my hand and into his. Before we could fill out form take three my number was called, so my new foil in bank comedy accompanied me to the window to keep me from violating their strict zero tolerance policy on application mistakes.

It would have been very easy to get angry or yell or complain, but the trick to loving the Jing is rolling with the punches. You have to make the conscious decision to see these situations as real-life Abbot and Costello routines, sometimes bordering on slapstick. And since I kept smiling the bank assistant kept smiling, through the mistakes on the forms, through the bank insisting they had run out of ATM cards, and through the teller shooting him icy glares from behind her plexiglass shield.

In the end I got a bank account, a lovely purple ATM card, and the satisfaction that could only come from seeing my new bank buddy grinning as I left the branch. It’s the little things.