bruce comes to beijing!

in a happily strange turn of events, just over two weeks after seeing him ireland, my brother-in-law, bruce, came to visit us in beijing. well, he was actually here for work, but we took full advantage of microsoft's business agenda to spend some time with him and his colleague, tim.

our first evening, after their business dinner - complete with the tradition of the lazy susan style way of chinese meals and everyone's chopsticks in the same food (this is when you're slightly grateful for the

government's almost hysterical vigilance against H1N1) - we took them to our favorite neighborhood bar, mao mao chang, for a few brews and some good catch up time. on our second night, after sean, bruce and tim took in the experience of a beijing foot massage (while I waited at the bar...can we say role reversal?) we hit up gui jie (ghost street) for dinner at a restaurant we discovered early on in our residence here - hua jia yi yuan - and dined on a mix of sichuan and beijing dishes, including - of course - kao ya (peking duck).

with time to spare on thursday morning before they headed south to guangdong province and over to hong kong, sean accompanied them to gu gong (forbidden city) for a sprint through the site, a visit which included the obligatory picture with chinese strangers who want their photo taken with the laowai.

by the time next spring arrives, while we will have seen him twice in the year since our departure, neither time will have been in the states...life's funny that way these days.

autumn in beijing...

it's hard to believe, but this weekend marks six months that we have lived in beijing.

in some ways, it feels as though we only just arrived at capital airport, bleary-eyed after 20 hours of travel, weighed down with everything we owned stuffed into six enormous bags & four carry-ons and - let's not lie about it - terrified at what lay before us. in others, though, it feels like we've been here for so much longer...we even found ourselves calling it "home" upon our return from ireland.

we, of course, continue to find surprises around every corner and no matter how well-adjusted we may be to our new surroundings, there will always be elements of life here to which we simply cannot grow accustomed. this is not to say that we are not still loving the adventures that greet us each day or that we long to return to our lives stateside; the best way to describe where we are today is probably "comfortable with being uncomfortable."

our language skills get better every day - sean much more so than me, though I am starting to learn to read and write chinese characters (han zi)...I now have just over 100 in my repertoire; unfortunately, there are over 80,000 in existence (47,000+ in the kang xi dictionary) and 3,000-4,000 to achieve "literacy," so I have still have a long way to go. I cannot seem to get past the fear associated with saying something the wrong way - horrible side effect of being a perfectionist - though a colleague in my office offered me the most amazing advice about a month ago. she said, "be brave," which totally struck me, and I have tried to do so every day since then, despite the laughter that often results. my favorite so far is the cab drivers...here's an example...cab driver: "ni qu nar?" me: "guozijian" cab driver: "guozijian??? mumble mumble mumble" me: "dui. guozijian" cab driver: "guozijian??? mumble mumble mumble" me: "dui. guozijian. yonghegong. andingmen" cab driver: "ahhh. guozijian." and just so you know, I pronounce guozijian the same way every single time, which, of course, is probably incorrectly.

some other observations since our last collection...

on socialism (setting aside for a moment the part of the definition that references state

ownership of industry and instead focusing on the part about equal access to resources for all individuals)...in our hutong, there is a decent amount of construction going on, as people tear down or renovate the courtyard style housing and rebuild it to look as though it's old, and during all of this, it's pretty common that large piles of dirt and stacks of bricks sit unattended overnight. a favorite pastime of ours when sitting at a restaurant or bar that faces the street is to see how many people throughout the course of an evening will approach the stack of bricks, stop their bikes, pull half a dozen bricks off the pile, drop them into their baskets and ride away. similarly, all throughout the summer, and especially leading up to National Day, we would regularly see workers planting fresh flowers in the various public flower beds. this is typically done by a large flat bed truck pulling up to the curb and unloading dozens and dozens of individual plants in small pots, which the workers then remove from their pots and plant in the bed. just like the bricks, it was pretty standard to see several people approach the flower collection - with the workers right there - and reach into the cluster to take their pick of three or four different flowers to take home to their own doorsteps. and to all of this, nobody blinks an eye...it seems to us that it's pretty much expected. pretty amazing to see, all the same, and definitely adds some perspective to the "collective ownership" idea.

on culpability...if the city is tearing up the road to repair pipes underground and there is a giant 12 foot by 12 foot hole right at the corner where you cross the street, do not expect to have it roped off with cones, or caution tape or giant signs (not that you could read them anyway). that's just not how china rolls. not that this is all that disturbing to us; in fact, it's kind of refreshing, returning to a culture where you are responsible for yourself. if you fall in a hole, it's your own damn fault, stupid. and in case you are wondering...despite my early onset of klutziness after our arrival to beijing, no, I did not fall in the hole.

on being followed...it's hard to shake the feeling that the staff thinks you are a thief when you walk into a store and everywhere you go, there is a sales person trailing right behind you, ready to straighten that hanger on the rack to be just-so after you've touched it. it feels a little bit like being stalked by some sort of Gap "denim folder person" on crack. I'd like to say you get used to it, but you don't. something about having someone in your personal space at every turn makes the whole shopping experience a little more stressful than it should be. I get it - it's their job and they don't actually think you're stealing; it's just what they do. but it's still a bit unnerving. put this in the column of things to which we may never adjust.

all in all, we approach our next six months with excitement and anticipation - we hope to travel much more, expanding our "foreign land" definition to be more than just beijing and a quick trip to ireland. we have thailand and laos on the agenda for december as a start. more to come...and more often now that we have a more reliable VPN. cheers...

a trip to the neighborhood temple...

as ridiculous as it sounds, even though we have lived in this neighborhood for five months, we only just made it down the street to yonghegong (lama temple), a former imperial residence turned lamasery and now one of the largest tibetan buddhist monasteries in the world. despite having already seen our fair share of chinese historical landmarks here in beijing, yonghegong was anything but disappointing. we picked a perfect fall saturday afternoon to spend a few hours wandering through it. it's a pretty amazing spread of architecture filled with more prayer wheels, "live" incense burners and buddhas than we have seen anywhere else, including an 18-meter tall buddha carved from a single piece of sandalwood whose base also extends something like 8 meters underground to keep it from toppling over. we included a few pics for your perusing pleasure...

a quick jaunt to the emerald isle...

one of the things that never occurs to you about your own wedding is that it's nearly pointless to bring your own camera, as the last thing on your mind as you're walking down the aisle, laughing-crying-laughing during your ceremony, freezing your ass off at the top of the cliffs of moher while watching your photographers lose all feeling in their hands (which, incidentally, is not a good thing for photographically inclined artists), toasting your guests with a pint of guinness (or seven), dancing the night away to the likes of rush-toto-queen-kelly clarkson-heavy d and the boyz-mj and finally stumbling home at 230 in the morning (this is a lie...we actually got a ride home in a european conversion van from the owner of the bar who hosted our reception) is taking pictures. fortunately, our friends and family were more attentive on that front, and we already have the most amazing minute by minute coverage of our wedding captured for us on facebook, with more to come from millie and the team.

we did, however, manage to capture some miscellaneous moments in the days prior to and after the event (best. wedding. ever.) including, but not limited to, moments during our first morning in doolin, preview trip to the cliffs, thursday night antics at fitzpatrick's in doolin, the friday afternoon hike/walk, valerie in "downtown" doolin (coincidentally, a picture taken in front of the same stretch of shops in the exact same fleece jacket as she wore six years ago when we first visited ireland together), our fabulous dinner in skerries the night before we left to return to beijing and of course, cows in the road. enjoy...

if we have not said it enough, let us say it once more...for all the love, humor and awesomeness that our wonderful friends and fabulous family brought to our celebration - a million thank yous.

Fear for the Future of China's Youth!

Holy crapsicles, Batman.  Sean is teaching English.  To people.  Me not even speaks so good myself, so what write do i have to teaching at others's?  Yeah.  That was my reaction, too.  Never-the-irregardlessness, I am now a working teacher.

Among the lessons I've learned are:

-Don't teach a subject like passive- vs. active-voice unless you really, really, have a handle on it your own self.

-Prepare more material than you think you'll need.  Odds are good you won't get through even your original intended lesson.  But if you do, it sure sucks to stand up in front of the class, looking back at a half dozen eager faces going, "Ahem... so... uh... yeah.  Who likes words?!?"

-Chinese early-twentysomethings don't give a turd about Lance Armstrong and the rest of the Tour de France.  So, you know, like most of the world.  They're just a whole lot better shielded from Lance's ego here.  Using an article about Lance's tweets to now former-teammate Alberto Contador as a teaching tool proved interesting only because it was written in English.  Ahh, if only we could all live in a world where Lance, and his insistence that no one in the world was aware of cancer before him, was invisible to us.

-Given the opportunity to choose our own names in another language, how many would be just a word that kinda sounds like our own name (Shang = Sean?), and how many would be well thought-out.  Of course, many of my students and our local friends are Lilys and Lucys (soundalikes for Li and Liu), but there are also lots of Summers and Sunnys (both certainly happy names), Davids and Johns and Thomases (usual fare), Emmas and Christines (popular sometimes for their associations with their famous eponyms) and a collection of flowers (Daisys, Jasmines, Blossoms).  Then there is Merlyn, who chose his name out of his love of books, reading, knowledge, and all things wizardly.  And Ocean, whose Chinese name contains a character that means, "the Sea," but who also acknowledges oceans as sources of both abundant life and abundant mystery.  And Phoebe, the young man who--yes, young man, not lady.  It's doubtful he's a fan of "Friends"; more likely, he's drawing upon Greek mythology and Phoebus for his inspiration.  My favorite name, however, is a no-contest: "Devil-May-Cry".  DMC fancies himself a troublemaker.  He got it almost right.  Come a time, though, I may urge him to go with Margaret's suggestion of "Loki."

I guess it's too late to change my name to "Han Solo" or "The Dude".  Maybe "The Ice Planet of Hoth" is still available.

Hmm.

Given a choice, what name would you choose?

If a Head Doesn't Nod in a Forest, is a Silent Connection Made?

One thing I've noticed during our three months in Beijing is that when a Westerner meets a Westerner, a-comin' through the rye, there is, more often than not, an explicit avoidance of connection.  What I mean by this, is that there is no silent nod, no tightened lips and raised eyebrows, certainly no overt gestures or even words, that would acknowledge a kinship of any kind.  I do realize that it's not quite the same thing as two guys, both wearing Bears' jerseys, high-fiving each other in the middle of Green Bay.  Or even a woman in an "Achiver" t-shirt smiling knowingly at a man in an "I'm a Lebowski; You're a Lebowski" t-shirt.  And I realize, or at least fear, that this observation smacks of a touch of xenophobia.

After all, why should two white guys feel any sort of connection just because they're suddenly strange faces in a city like Beijing?  What connection could a Seattlite and a Swede, or a Belgian and a Bostonian possibly have here?  (Although it's a well-known fact that Belgians are Yankee-lovers.)

I think that it's just these sorts of feelings that lead to that intentional avoidance of even a shared glance.  Part of it, anyway.  I certainly don't want to admit I get excited when I see another Westerner among the sea of Chinese faces.  Then again, I didn't like admitting that I got excited to see Illinois plates on the L.A. freeway.

And I think that's the bigger part of it: the feeling of separation, rather than togetherness.  That this is my adventure in a foreign place, that I'm the only Chicagoan who could possibly be living in Los Angeles, that certainly no other Westerner would dare to render my China adventure anything less than unique.

Of course, that's ridiculous.  As soon as I could find a group of fellow Bears-fans in L.A., I did everything I could to spend all autumn with them.  Actually, I spent nearly every day with them, because they gave me laughter and love.  And food.  You know who you are.

And here, too.  What little contact I've had with other Americans has been nothing short of pleasant, with a significant connection or without one.

So why is it that I so often encounter the overt dodging of eye-contact between pale-faced strangers here in Beijing?  Is it because of shame?  Are we ashamed that we excitedly made the eye-contact in the first place, only to realize that one of us could be from Lincoln, and the other from Luxembourg?  Or is it simply a realization that our difference alone, the fact that we each stand out in this crowd, doesn't mean we have anything more in common than I do with my hutong neighbors?

Less even.  At least those of us living on Jianchang Lane share part of an address.

The Neat-O Wall of China

Doesn't quite have the same ring to it, does it?

Our first trip to the Wall was definitely a memorable one.  We left Beijing on a Saturday afternoon, slept under the stars (and rain) at Jinshanling, woke before dawn, and hiked atop the Wall 10 km to Simatai, where we found a zipline waiting to take us across the reservoir.  Yeah.  Terrif.

It rained pretty much the entire three-hour drive out to Jinshanling, and all through our seemingly endless dinner.  (Oh, more dumplings?  Ok.)  We'd had the option to sleep in a hotel at the base of the wall, but our group pretty much had its heart set on sleeping up on the ol' Pile o' Bricks, as it's sometimes called.  By me.  Just as we finished our meal, the rain stopped, the clouds parted (we assumed; it was dark), and we made our way up to the watchtower, where we finished off a few beers and told a few stories before nestling into our sleeping bags.  Oh, and there was a giant, menacingly-ugly spider that was trying to kill me.  I know this, because first, it dropped down from the roof to dangle a few inches above Valerie's head.  Then, it webbed me.  That's right: it shot me with its menacingly-sticky menacingness from at least ten feet away.  If I hadn't bravely shrieked like a girl and run around to the other side of the tower, I would surely have been devoured, Arachnaphobia-style.  Terrifying.  Lucky for us, all my shrieking and flailing and running around knees-bent-style confused the spider, leaving it no other option but to crawl back into its dark hiding place.

Once I--ahem, all of us--calmed down, we laid out our sleeping bags and tried to sleep: half the group inside the watchtower, the other half of us under the stars.  And rain.  Yeah.  At first it was just that sort of one-drop-every-so-often stuff.  That stuff that with enough stubborn self-convincing, you can just about fall asleep in.  And get about ten solid, consecutive minutes of sleep in.  Until like a drop lands right in the corner of your eye, waking you up and sending you into a mild panic that the spider is back, that it was in fact just waiting for you to fall asleep so that it could ambush you, or at least crawl into your hair and lay eggs in your scalp.  That one-drop stuff changed to a subtle sprinkle at about 1:30, though.  Not enough to really get wet, but enough to make sleep impossible.  Not wanting to wake the others inside the watchtower, six of us bravely braved the treacherous stone steps in the dark, clambered down to the first level of the tower, and set up camp.  And slept.

BATS!  Although I comforted myself with the knowledge that bats eat spiders (I don't think they do, but it was how I comforted myself that night), the unmistakable leather flapping sound of bats flying in and out of the tower, most likely just inches from our faces, made for a fitful few hours of sleep.  Eventually, though, even the bats settled down.  Probably right around 4 am.  I know it was 4 am, because this was when the troop of Chinese sunrise-photographers (loudly) tromped through the tower on their way to the top of the rise a half a kilometer on.  I don't know if I was more startled by the pre-dawn, full-voiced shouting of a group of Chinese photogs; or if they were more startled by the half-naked white guy who sprang out of his sleeping bag with what I'm sure could only be described as a ridiculous head of hair.

At this point, the sun was starting to announce its approach, so I gave up on sleep, grabbed my camera, and headed out for a stroll.  Another hour, and the rest of the group was up.  Quick breakfast of bread, jam, bananas, coffee, and we started our journey.

The Jinshanling to Simatai section of the wall is less well-preserved and -maintained than other, more heavily-touristed parts, so, for most of the walk, we had the wall to ourselves.  Yep, just us and the local women who scaled the hills on which the Wall is perched to sell us "t-shirt!" "photo-book!" "water!"

The following pics tell the rest.

our first experience with a height disadvantage

so far, we've only had one true experience in which it is painfully obvious that we are of above average height for this culture, and unfortunately, it exists in our own house, so we are reminded of it every day.

when I initially wrote that my head was about five inches shy of being too tall for our shower, I think that people interpreted that to mean that the shower head itself was placed too low on the wall. and while this is not necessarily untrue, what I actually meant was that my head is literally five inches from the ceiling – certainly makes for an interesting morning bathing ritual for me, but take a look at what it translates to for sean...

unique observations about beijing - part 2

couples shirts
not too long after our arrival, we began to notice the prevalence of couples in the city donning matching-top attire for their days out and about together. after much observation, we've decided that this phenomenon can be separated into two segments – matching shirts and true couples shirts. couples shirts are not only alike in color and scheme, but they tend to include graphics or messages that independently make little sense, but when paired with the shirt of a significant other, breathe life into phrases like "from ocean..." and "...to desert" or "always and..." (on her) "...forever" (on him). the matching shirts, on the other hand, seem to be a slight step down and are best described as two people wearing the same shirt, one in a woman's size and one in a men's size. the most basic version of matching shirt is just a t-shirt, perhaps with the same logo, but we've also witnessed the upscale versions, which are more like his and hers j. crew polos. sean seems to feel that acquiring a set of these for our own wardrobes would be a fabulous way for us to assimilate, whereas I believe they'd be put to better use as a new trend in wedding gifts for our friends (jd & iheart, beware). we'll see who wins out on this one...and I wouldn't bet on sean if I were you. I may not be any sort of fashionista, but I know bad taste when I see it.

underground subway races
as we've shared with many of you, we love the subway system here in Beijing. one of the things that is pretty great about it is the number of transfer stations between all of the lines, which makes it super easy to get many places in the city. the stop closest to our house – yonghegong – is a transfer station for lines 5 and 2. the entrance I use every day is actually for line 5, but I walk underground to get to line 2, which is what I take to work. the most refreshingly hilarious part of every morning for me is when I reach the bottom of the escalator to the line 5 platform and turn the corner to climb the stairs for the line 2 tunnel at the same time that a line 5 train is arriving. you can see behind the plastic barriers that people are smashed up against the glass windows on the train, jockeying for position nearest the seam that separates the sliding doors, and as soon as they open, it's as though a pistol for the start of the 100M dash just went off...men in full business suits with rolling briefcases and women in high heels with monster work bags over their shoulders start throwing elbows as they are sprinting (I don't just mean fast walking with a couple light jog strides here and there...I mean a full scale sprint) out the doors and down the platform to get to the line 2 tunnel stairs. god help those who happen to be unaware of their surroundings when those doors open – nose buried in a book or peering down at their ipods to change the song or sending a quick text to a friend...your ass will get knocked to the ground and there will be no apologies – I've observed it many times already. it's seriously one of the most hilarious things I've ever seen – I watch it every morning and it never fails to make me laugh out loud.

the active 65+ generation
maybe it's because we never paid much attention to this kind of thing in the states, but we are totally awestruck by how active the older generation here is. it's not the "ladies in the neighborhood cul-de-sac with their matching sweatband/lycra/hoodie outfits for a quick morning gossip speed walk session" kind of occasionally active; it's hard to describe, but it's prevalent and consistent and is impossible to ignore. there are "adult" exercise parks – sort of like playgrounds for grown-ups without the merry go round – virtually everywhere (akin to the old huff n puff in Shelton or the meager remains of the pull-up bar and sit up board stations along the lakefront path in Chicago), and they are always full, an almost no one there is without gray hair. the Chinese version of "hackeysack" is not a game for the young – I don't think we've seen anyone under the age of 50 playing it, but there have been substantial groups of people in every park we've visited who are kicking their heels up. the activity has this amazing community aspect and it sometimes feels like these impromptu gatherings of people who just want to be with and around other active people. I've watched women who have to be in their 70s teaching other women how to do lunges, and it's incredibly common to see clusters of older men standing around swinging their arms or slapping their triceps to "get the blood moving." there is always a group people doing stretching exercises on the garden path or pairs playing badminton (without the net) anywhere there is enough space. there's this trio of older gentlemen that I pass almost every morning who all carry canes walking – albeit at barely faster than a snail's pace – up and down our hutong. I don't know why it feels different here or why we continue to be amazed by it – perhaps it's just hard not to notice it when we are living in a country that has such a large population, but regardless, it's a very cool element to the culture. on a slightly-related note from sean: maybe it's just our neighborhood, as we live near a senior center, but I'd say that about 75%-80% of the time I've seen someone with a wheelchair, he/she is pushing it from behind, rather than riding in it. I don't mean to say that this is someone pushing an empty wheelchair; no, this is someone who is clearly pushing his/her own wheelchair.

individually wrapped
when we first started shopping at grocery stores, we were super impressed by the fact that if you wanted a plastic bag, you had to pay for it. if you asked for a "dai zi," the checker would pull a bag off the roll and scan the bar code on it to charge you. we thought this was awesome – an ideal tactic to ensure that people used cloth bags and a great way for a country of 1.6 billion to contribute to the "green" movement. then, we experienced the ridiculous phenomenon of plastic on everything. buy a box of cookies...each cookie inside is wrapped in its own sealed package. buy four apples...they're wrapped in plastic on a styrofoam tray. move in to a furnished apartment and your used TV is wrapped in plastic. suddenly the absence of plastic bags in the grocery store doesn't seem so much a way to support the environment, but a means for offsetting the insane amount of plastic being used everywhere else in the country.

we're back...sort of

our apologies for the lengthy hiatus...a tad unexpected for us as well. I'll avoid the sorted details, as we've been able to share with most of you the cicumstances under which our "dark" period came about, and I'd rather not go into it here (so weird how you start to self-censor as a result of the threat of being censored further...definitely a spooky feeling and at the same time, a really twistedly fascinating thing to be experiencing). we're glad to be able to post some updated stories for you all, though our access is still spotty, so we request your patience if things ebb and flow for a bit longer. enjoy the new entries...

unique observations about beijing (aka things we never saw in the states)

the pre-dinner rush pep talk…our first few days here, as we were wandering through the city to get our bearings, we would often pass some of the restaurants and see a collection of servers all dressed alike standing in very orderly rows outside the entrance to the eatery.  in front of them would be someone in slightly different dress shouting at them like a drill sergeant and getting synchronized responses from the server “soldiers.”  sometimes, if we were lucky, they’d even be singing a song, chanting, marching.  (“oh, wee, oh…”)  while an interesting means for getting people fired up before a shift, in a country where tipping is rare, perhaps this is necessary for troop morale?

split-back pants…it’s pretty common to see the wee ones running through the city with their little bums occasionally exposed because their pants have an intentional slit that runs from the back of their waistband to the front.  Apparently, diapers aren’t big here for toddlers and as we witnessed, it’s totally acceptable when your two year old tugs on your hand and says she has to go to the bathroom to park her in the corner of a temple entrance in the forbidden city, have her do a quick squat with her pants pulled up and let the business just flow right out from the split in her pants.  we’ve read that potty training happens a lot earlier here, and while we’re quickly adjusting to this sight, we can’t help but be caught off guard by it sometimes.  on the plus side,  we now know what we’re getting quinn, jack jack, damen, mikey, cj, hudson, henny, julian, grady, will, finn, carson, jack, reese, avery, mini-marks, “nugget” and berry girl #3 for christmas this year.

an aversion to revolving doors…having lived in chicago for almost a decade, revolving doors became commonplace.  sure, there were always regular doors right next to them for handicap accessibility or in case you had a suitcase too big to whip through the revolving glass with you at the same time super important lawyer man with the cordovan shoes enters on the other side and gives you a look through his wire-rimmed glasses that indicates he has zero time for patiently pushing the doors on his side so that you don’t fall on your face and get trapped under your samsonite, but they were rarely used and in most cases, were almost always locked.  I’ve noticed here that despite their prevalence and the enormous signs that say “revolving doors please” in both chinese and english, most people go out of their way to AVOID using the revolving doors, and in fact, they look at me kind of strange when I do.  while I’ve received a lot of theories on this – fear of death, some sort of twisted logic about king kong not having opposable thumbs, a desire to stick it to the man. – I can’t help but wonder what the story is with this dynamic.

midnight construction…there is that horribly tired joke regarding chicago that says there are two seasons – winter and construction.  here in beijing, it seems like there are two phases to the day – daytime and construction.  for whatever reason, at least in the area where we are staying, we rarely see any active construction when the sun is out.  but every evening when we go to bed, we can hear the sounds out our window of the construction crews firing up their equipment.  at first, we thought maybe that it was sort the same deal as rapidly growing cities like dubai – 24 hour shifts, but the progress on the jianguomennnai walkway project would indicate that’s not the case.  every night, when I leave work, I see the sidewalk crews beginning to gather and every morning when I head to the office, I notice that portions of the walk have been transformed with new stone overnight.

cyclists have the right of way (sort of)…prior to our arrival, we were fairly warned  that being a pedestrian in beijing would be a perilous lifestyle.  it’s just that it’s lower on the food-chain than bikes and cars.  look for more on traffic in an upcoming, all-inclusive, traffic-themed post from sean.

Gullible IS in the Dictionary; I Checked

We are nearing the end of our second week here in Beijing, and digging it more every day.  We found a place to live, which we'll move into at the end of the month, so that's one task down...

Now, we need to learn Mandarin.  If only so that we're not constantly answering our waitresses with blank stares and "Hen bao qian, wo bu dong", which translates roughly as "Yeah, I'm an idiot", or more accurately as, "I'm sorry, I don't understand."  Although the longer the imploring looks from them last, and the longer we wear our own blankly confused expressions, the more idiotic we (ok, I) feel.

Another good reason to learn Mandarin is so that I'm better able to deflect eager "students" who wish to "practice their English" and "just" "walk" "with me".  "Awhile."

Allow me to recap: Val's first full day of work, I decided to venture out to get a sim card for my Blackberry (I'd need to have it unlocked, but I didn't know that then).  I was maybe five minutes into my walk when I sensed a dude walking along beside me.  I nodded at him, and he at me, before he popped a, "Hello.  Where are you from?"  We chatted as we walked, he flattering my halting Mandarin.  Eager to practice his own English, he told me he could walk with me to find a place that sells sim cards.  Note: one can buy these pretty much anywhere, but I didn't know that, and I found the chat really refreshing and informative.  He told me that he was a student, studying calligraphy and painting, and that he had some work in an exhibition currently running.  "Oh really?", says I, "Maybe I'll come take a look sometime."

So, sometime became immediately.  "Peter" led me into a small office building and to a room with dozens of scroll paintings hung on the walls.  After explaining the symbolism inherent in much of Chinese painting, he introduced me to his "teacher" (um, a guy who looked about 23), who in turn showed a few more original works of art.  Then the sell came.  It was the classic definition of a soft sale, as Peter had walked with me about twenty to twenty-five minutes, and spent another ten to fifteen explaining the finer points of Chinese art to me.  And I am soft, in both heart and head.

I paid less than half of what they were originally asking for what I'm now sure was a factory-produced scroll painting of cherry-blossoms, but I'm also sure I still paid at least four times as much as I should have.  It's pretty.  I gave it to Valerie in celebration for her first day at her new office.  (Then I confessed all when she looked so damn grateful.)

I felt like a sucker, but after I considered the whole ordeal, It seemed worth the price: Peter gave me a lot of insights about Beijing, gave me a chance to practice a bit of spoken Mandarin, and after all was said and done, still took me to find that all-important sim card.  I was ripped off, sure, but I didn't feel that bad about it.  And I evidently hadn't yet read this passage from our Frommer's Chinese Phrasebook & Culture Guide:

"Art students" can be pests: They approach you with a story about raising funds for a show overseas, but ain fact are merely enticing you into a shop where you will be lied to extravagantly about the authenticity, uniqueness, originality and true cost of various paintings, which you will then be pressured into buying for dozens times their actual value.

Okay, so maybe when I said four times too much, I was just trying to make myself feel better.

Oh, and I've also been getting texts nearly every day that I can't read, but that have pictures supposedly meant to titillate, if not for their poor quality and over-pixellation.  To explain: as I left the shop and installed my sim card, I was approached by a college-aged girl looking to, guess what, practice her English.  I explained that I had just purchased I sim card for my phone and was headed to a China mobile store to now have it unlocked.  Before I knew it, she snatched the sim card envelope and had input my number in phone, so she could, "Call me!  Practice English!"

Yay me.  "Call me!" really meant "I will send you pictures of bikini-clad Chinese women and script you can't read every other day!"

I did (kinda) learn from this: the following day, on my way back to China Mobile to pick up my (hopefully) unlocked Blackberry, I was approached by two more "art students" looking to "practice their English" with me.  This time I led them to China Mobile, used them as translators to make sure my phone was indeed unlocked, and made one of them give me his phone number so that I could call him to verify that my phone really worked.  It did.  Score me.  (Should have asked them to help set up my voicemail too, dammit.)  When they invited me to their "exhibition", I politely declined, and hustled off to my "very important meeting".  In flip-flops, a backpack and a dirty tee.

I'd like to say this will be the last tourist scam I'll fall for here, but then I'm reminded of the 6 RMB ice cream bar I bought today.  They should cost about half that.

Oh, and if anyone wants to purchase a "brand new, totally original piece of Chinese scroll art", I've got one.  90 RMB o.b.o.

The Legendary Subway Wipeout

In case you missed her second facebook update, Valerie had the opportunity to wipe out a second time.  This time, while running for a subway, on marble floors, in dusty Converse.  To her credit, we made the train, even though she now sports knee-bruises big enough to make one suspect she is turning into a smurf, knees first.  The crowded train car full of onlookers was, much to Valerie’s chagrin, far too polite (or horrified?) to laugh at her.  With her.  She was in a fit of hysterical laughter that took even me some time to join in.  Or maybe I was just feeling guilty for reaching

 down and grabbing her arm when she fell.  Sure, to help her up, make sure she was okay, et cetera. But mostly, to drag her onto the waiting train.  As if there wouldn’t be another one along in two and a half to two and three quarters minutes, as the Beijing subway authority assures us.  We both hope this weekly trend of slips and spills does not continue.  At this rate, Valerie would be better off crawling to work, already on the ground, within a month or two.  I, personally, think it’s the whole being-on-the-other-side-of-the-world thing.  You know, gravity’s different here.  Right?  Right?  Right.

Oh, and here's a shot of her knee bruise, three days after the spill...

Rainy Day at the Forbidden City

Of course we chose a public holiday to visit the most popular tourist attraction in the entire city.  Imagine if it hadn't been drizzly.  Actually, the Palace Museum (the Forbidden City's official title) is so massive, that once we got in the door, it wasn't what could be traditionally termed "crowded".  Lots of people, yes; but lots of space for us all to spread out in.

I remember being shocked that I spent an entire afternoon wandering around Pompeii.  It's so rich with things to see, that you can easily lose yourself for several hours.

The Forbidden City is like that, several times over.  After nearly six hours, we still hadn't seen it all, and some of the rear palaces we rushed through.  But it was closing time.

As it is a must-see for any visitor to Beijing, we're not worried; we'll be back, probably several times.

Here are just a few of the pics from our day:

valerie's first day in her new job

so, the original game plan for my first day was that I would meet my new boss at the office around noon on monday, which was perfect for an uber-planner like me.  sean and I woke up early, went for a walk to find some coffee and breakfast (no luck on the coffee, but we did find this awesome fried bread as a breakfast pastry), came back to the hotel and I had a message waiting for me.  unfortunately, my boss had fallen ill, and so she could not make the trip to beijing that week, but virginia, the office manager, was going to meet me at the hotel at 130pm.  now, I wasn't entirely clear on what the game plan would be once she arrived, so I had all of my stuff pulled together and I dressed in a slightly casual (read:  jeans) but somewhat professional (read:  button down shirt and heels) outfit to meet her in the lobby.  sean came down with me and we ordered some tea, figuring that when virginia arrived, sean would say hello and then politely excuse himself to go run an errand and she and I would talk for a bit and then we'd make plans for me to come to the office for my orientation on tuesday.  turns out, I read the situation a bit incorrectly and when virginia arrived, she was there to escort me to the office so I would know the way (never mind that I had made sean walk with me on sunday to see how long it would take to get from the hotel down the street to the office, and yes, I timed it to make sure I knew when I should leave the next morning).  I tried to create a diversion to give myself a chance to run up to the room and change into "office-appropriate" attire (jeans are fine when you've been working at starcom chicago for 9 years and everyone there knows you'll bring your wardrobe a-game when it counts, but not so good on your first day at a new job) and get the correct walking shoes (flip-flops), but I did a poor job at that, so I was off with virginia before I even knew it.  sean tells me later that night that he felt bad for me because he could see the panic on my face, but at that point, it was too late to do anything.

as I alluded to in my facebook status, I decided it would be an awesome introduction to me if I chose to wipe out on the sidewalk as virginia walked me to the office for my first day.  allow me to set the stage a bit...no, I had not been drinking.  and no, I was not ignoring where I was going - in fact, I was concentrating harder on walking than I probably have since I was two years old.  the thing is, the sidewalks here in beijing along the main street where we are staying are all torn up.  they aren't just one solid slab of concrete, but instead a collection of individual tiles - probably just over a square foot each and laid side by side - about 16 wide or so.  in preparation for the sixtieth anniversary of the founding of the people’s republic in june, there are citywide improvement projects, including repairing sidewalks, that are underway.  thus, a great number of these tiles are broken in pieces right now in the midst of repair, so it makes for pretty treacherous walking conditions.  it certainly didn't help that I was in heels as opposed to the flip flops I would normally wear to trek to the office.  anyway, I'm walking along talking to virginia and all of a sudden, I lose my footing and feel my body start to do this slow motion crumple thing - it wasn't like a hard core trip and wipe out kind of scenario - more of a “bedknobs and broomsticks, miss price has been shot down by the germans and now all the armor from the small town museum that had been marching under the tragoona-macoides-tracorum-sades-di spell is slowly melting to the ground”-type situation.  the next thing I knew, I was all fours on the sidewalk.  and sweet virginia, she didn't even crack a smile.  I wish she would have roared with laughter or collapsed in a fit of giggles, but instead, she apologized profusely as though it were her fault that my ass can't walk in three-inch heels down a sidewalk.  to be fair, it wasn't the most stable surface, but still - not the most graceful way to make a first impression, was it?

having recovered from that (I tried to explain to virginia that it really wasn't that big of a deal...I even attempted to tell the story of the time I wiped out down the cement stairs at flatwater, but I'm not sure it translated all that well), I arrived at the office and began to be introduced to various people.  I had worked so hard at preparing at least a "ni hao" when I met my coworkers for the first time, but for some reason, nerves set in and when they were all kind enough to say "hello" to me in english, I just reverted back to that instead of forcing myself to try my limited and likely very poor mandarin pronunciation.  key minor panic attack number one.

once I'd gotten a quick tour of the office, I moved to get set up in my temporary space - I'm in a cube sitting with my coworkers, which is awesome because I am inundated with the mandarin language, but tough because even though I am nestled within their group, I don't know enough of the language yet to even converse casually.  to their credit, the beijing office was totally prepared for me - I had a computer (I wanted to do a little happy dance when I saw it - it's up to date, compact and doesn't sound like it has gerbils running in wheels when I turn it on), a starcom beijing email address, a lotus notes password and access to the shared drive.  as I was getting myself acclimated to the system, the deputy general manager of the office took the time to come over and introduce herself to me.  I had read that when someone in china presents you with their business card, you are supposed to accept it, look over it thoughtfully and perhaps even make a comment or two about what you've read on it.  now, I don't know if that's legit advice, but regardless, I didn't do any of that.  instead, when she introduced herself in perfect english and handed me her card, I just nodded over and over again and said "nice to meet you" and "thank you" about a million times.  idiot.  key minor panic attack number two.

at this point, I am now sweating profusely and totally grateful that I will likely have no need to raise my arms above my head at any point in the afternoon.  thankfully, rob, the director whose position I will be partially inheriting, and who, to my incredible relief, is from new zealand and speaks perfect english, returned from lunch at that point and whisked me away to his office for an introductory chat and an early orientation to my new client.  coming out of that, I was blessed with the opportunity to spend the rest of my day reading documents at my computer, thus being spared any other panic attacks.  day one complete.  not a total failure, but certainly not what I would call a rousing success.  I guess there's always a day two, right?

things we are sorry to have missed...

kinsey & corey's return to chicago…what are the chances that after living in new york for two years, k + c would have been driving back to chicago in a u-haul and the ever-fabulous monte carlo (hope to god it doesn’t still have that enormous jug of protein powder in the back seat that makes the whole car smell like a gold’s gym on muscle beach in LA) with xara riding shotgun on the same day that we were flying west to land east?  we send our love and homecoming wishes to them.

reegan & hanno's wedding…at one point, we were actually foolish enough to believe that by the time may 2^nd rolled around, we would have been in china long enough to make a trip back to the states for this precious event.  then, reality set in and we hoped that perhaps the visa process would delay our departure just long enough for us to still be in the windy city to join in the celebration.  sadly, time was not on our side, and we were just 8 days shy of being able to raise a glass to these two dear friends in person.  much love to you both…

things we wish we would have known...

luggage restrictions...while you can pay a fee to check a bag over 50 lbs, the maximum allowable weight is 70 lbs, which means that when you have one bag of five that weighs 92 lbs and another that weighs 75.5 lbs, you have to buy a cheap bag from the american ticket counter and redistribute your belongings in the check-in line with everyone watching, which ultimately puts you at six checked bags, which means you have to pay a fee for being two bags over the international limit.  also, it would have been smart of us to realize that because our flight from shanghai to beijing was on a separate airline, it would be considered "domestic," so the maximum weight for luggage for the two of us was 40kg...as you can probably guess, we had more than that - try 175kg total.  oops.  thankfully, the air china attendants were kind enough to only charge us a flat fee for two extra bags as opposed to the incremental fee they should have charged us (17 RMB per kg over the limit).

how to speak chinese...shame on us for not really having the time or the means to take even a short, intensive mandarin course in chicago before we left.  to start, it would have been really nice to be able to tell people in chinese that the reason we had so much luggage was because we were moving to china as opposed to visiting and that the rest of our stuff won't probably be here for another 6 to 8 weeks, which is why we had to fly with so much, but that whole dialogue was more advanced than we could have ever hoped to achieve in our first 6 hours in the country.  despite the fact that we spent most of the first day trying to memorize phrases like "I'm sorry" and "I don't understand" and "I don't speak chinese," when you're in the midst of a tough communication situation, all of that slips right out of your brain and you find yourself stumbling even through your english sentences.  to give proper credit, sean is actually really good at speaking mandarin - he's even had a couple people comment on how strong his pronunciation is (and while we have read that we should expect people to compliment us on our chinese even if it isn't good, I can attest to the fact that he is much better so far at speaking chinese than I am).  I don't know if it's something weird in my brain or my personality or the fact that I am super type-A and not very good at attempting things that I know I will be bad at doing, but I am really struggling with the language barrier.  I do, though, remain committed to learning it and have high hopes that one day I'll be decently conversational.

tipping etiquette...we had read before we came that tipping in china is very rare.  that being said, mr. guo, the driver who picked us up at the airport (and yes, he was aghast at the amount of luggage we had - see above point about wishing we could explain that whole thing), was awesome about getting us to our hotel and helping us unload our stuff (the bellhop was also beside himself about our luggage collection), and so we wanted to tip him.  sean had all of the yuan ready to pass off to mr. guo, but we made the fatal mistake of trying to give it to him in front of the bellhop, which is, I guess, a major way to embarrass someone in the chinese culture, so mr. guo refused our tip and even though we had been told that we would always be refused on our first offer, we were too befuddled to try again.  and so, we give a shout out to mr. guo here and an apology that we totally botched that whole situation because he absolutely deserved the extra thanks.

I Dug Hot Doug's

So, before I left Chicago, I had to get over to Hot Doug's, the "sausage superstore and encased meats emporium."  Having spent over two and a half years in L.A.--the place you're more likely to find a good tofu dog than a good hot dog--I was eager so snap the skin of a perfectly-charred Chicago miracle.  I'd been hearing about it from friends in the Windy City for years, and when I saw Anthony Bourdain tucking into a dog topped with foie gras, and a basket of duck fat-fried french fries on his show No Reservations, I knew my time had come.

My time happened to come on a Saturday, one of the first truly beautiful Saturdays of the Chicago spring.  (And yes, I realize that I only experienced like a month of Chicago springs in the last few years.  Sue me.)  Hot Doug's builds up quite a line on any day.  But especially on a weekend, and a particularly weather-friendly day as this one.  It's hard to tell from the vid below (my first attempt with the Flip: shoddy and unremarkable, at best), but the line from the front door stretched back down the sidewalk at least 50 yards (that's like maybe 4000 meters, or maybe my math is off).

I met Nick there after his bike ride.  I was late.  Nick was early.  He was phone-less; and patiently waited about an hour.  Lucky for me, by the time I got there, he was only 20 yards or so from the door.  No cuts, no butts, no coconuts, indeed.  Apologies to the people behind us, but I certainly would have taken up less room in the cramped front entrance of Hot Doug's than Nick's bicycle.

Anywhatnot, we ordered three sausages and a basket of the aforementioned, weekend-only duck fat fries.  And a couple-a-cokes.  The schmanciest sausage we ordered--the buffalo sausage with bacon-mayonnaise and serendipity cheese (read: blue cheese with chunks of sharp cheddar mixed in)--was certainly tasty, but had almost too much going on.  The sausage itself had enough of a zing that competing with the cheeses for taste bud-space made for a confusing in-mouth experience.  Still, damn good.  I would have ordered the house-made bacon-mayonnaise (not the crap in a jar) just to dip my fries in.  And, you know, to help my heart explode.

Next, we had a traditional, Chicago char-dog.  At a buck seventy-five, one could get a couple of these (quite possibly the best Chicago-dog I've had) and some fries, and be thoroughly happy.  A nice pop when you bite through the skin, perfectly cooked, great flavor, all the trimmings, I could go on, yadda yadda, ya, da.

The winner of the day was surely the ribeye sausage with horseradish sauce, crispy fried onions, and let's call it gouda (we think).  The sausage itself was tender and juicy, with great, but not overwhelming flavor.  And all the extras worked really well together.  Bravo, Doug.

As for the duck-fat fries?  Yes.  Delicious.  As advertised.  But, not so rich that we couldn't polish off the entire basket.  I kinda wanted them hotter, but maybe duck-fat doesn't have as high a smoke-point as traditional frying oils.  Still, they were damn tasty, and certainly a valid reason for the huge weekend lines.

As we were leaving, we passed by a family chowing down on their own varied selections.  I, of course, had to engage them in conversation to know what they had and how they liked it.  Turns out they drove almost six hours from Kentucky to get their Hot Doug on.  And they do it once a month.

Hot Doug's is definitely a must for the meat-eaters.  They even have a veggie dog too.  And I'm sure the ducks from which the fat is gleaned are vegetable-based birds.  They have those now, right?

Here's to the Lakeview Staion Postal Employees: Huzzah!

Is it any wonder that people choose to ship packages via FedEx, UPS, DHL... anyone except the USPS?  After mis-measuring (and thus, overcharging) one of our packages, they decided to, uh, remedy the situation... when he got back.  Who he was, and why he was the only one at the post office who knew how to void a debit card transaction (turns out he didn't) remains a mystery.  Where he was getting back from?  The Burger King next door.  Sure, we all have to eat.  But a simple, "My manager's on his lunch break, but he will gladly help you when he returns" would certainly have been preferred over, "When he gets back."  I assumed the missing, first part of the sentence was "My manager can help you out..."  And the last part was "...from his break."

I reiteratingly digress.  Solving this dilemma of not-a-single-person-in-the-entire-Post-Office-knowing-how-to-void-a-debit-card-transaction can be better described by Valerie.  And anyway, I missed most of it when I went down the street to, you guessed it, FedEx Kinko's.

Almost Ready to Go!

This is what happens when you need to pack enough toiletries for 6-8 weeks, because you're moving to a country where you don't know how to ask, "Where do you keep your curly-hair conditioner and your delicious deodorants?", and anything you ship may take, well, 6-8 weeks to get to you.  Thankfully, Valerie is organized.  If it were left to me, there would most likely be a plastic shopping bag with two toothbrushes, some toothpaste, deodorant and a bar of soap in it, all stuffed inside my carry-on.  Which would then, of course, be confiscated by the TSA.  I never said I was smart.  Or organized.  Or smart.  Or redundant.

We Made It

Yeah, yeah, yeah.  We know: we've been here a week already, and no posts!  Now, we're going to send some out fast and furious-like.  Okay, so maybe just a couple to start out.

Anyway, this is us by Hou Hai lake.  We want to go to there.  Wait.  We did go to there.  And we had some rooftop beers in between apartment-hunting appointments.  Great way to spend a holiday Sunday (May 1 was Labor Day here in China).

More soon...