BNTM

Beijing is a funny place where you can explore any aspect of yourself, your abilities, your whims, other people's whims. Only in Beijing, and only at the ripe old age of 30 can one become a model of sorts. I'm not talking of the "role" variety, but rather, the "posing" variety. My point is, I had a very fun(ny) experience yesterday helping a friend of a friend with his work. I got to pose for a series of black and white photographs by a Chinese artist and photographer. I don't yet know how ridiculous I look in these photos, and I won't tell you the artist's name or his website until I first have the chance to self-sensor.  

Don't worry, Ma, it's all on the up-and-up. My friend and I went together for the photo-shoot (my friend is the artist's friend), and we brought our own clothing. My friend was instructed to wear a suit, and I had a few costume changes (from a selection I sent him, the artist chose my new fabulous grey Anthro dress, a black J. Crew number, and my favorite BCBG). Besides my friend being asked to wear a fluorescent red chin length bob style wig, my favorite moment was when the electric fan was brought out to encourage more billowing of my floor length dress. In a fashion designer's apartment studio, to the tunes of Ella, Louie, Nina, Anita, Aretha and Billie I was told not to smile. I was instructed not to laugh. I was coached to relax my eyes...relax my eyes...relax my eyes. Any more relaxed and I'd be asleep! I was directed this way and that with instructions in Chinese and in English: Look at me, look away! Look at the lights! Pose. Pose again. Switch. Stand up. Sit down. Relax. Sit up straight. Relax. Move your right arm behind your body, more, hide your hands, tilt your head this way. Chin down. A little down. I little up. Relax!

I had my hair and makeup done. Retouched. Redone. Slicked down. I had feathers in my hair and baubles strewn across my neck.  When I could steal a moment, I laughed at myself. 

Beijing memories like yesterday's are hard forgotten. Especially when the proof is there in black and white. 

Here's a tissue for your issue...

Isn't that a great line?

Our Uncles gave us that line a few months ago. It is so appropriately used (all too often) these days.

I think I will recall the past two weeks in reverse. I'll wait just a moment while you go get your tissues so that you may empathetically follow along the story-line of my issues.

(T)issue #1:

Let me begin with the rooftop fire we witnessed a mere two hours ago. I'll start there, where we happened upon the scene coming home from yet another search for a fruits and veggies market. If I go on too long, we can always pause and continue another day. Now, I'm not so brazen, so flippant, to dismiss the importance of public and fire safety concerns in this country. But, I am confident that on this day, in this particular incident, no lives were spared in the fire or in the attempts to (eventually) squelch the frenzy of flames shooting from the building's chimney. And naturally, as the crowd around our neighborhood restaurant grew, so did our concerns for the buildings inhabitants and contents. But, seriously. What's there to worry about, anyhow? The restaurant patrons were still inside the building with the engulfed rooftop, casually dining on their late lunches/early dinners. I can understand them not wanting to disrupt their meals and risk their food getting cold for pesky building-burning-down inconveniences. Who could be anxious about the red and orange flicking high above, the black smoke chasing the wind, the ashen sky clouding our view when that fuwuyuan (read: waiter) over there is leisurely strolling to the rescue with a fire extinguisher in his hand? Is that the cook with a bucket of water? And here come the fire-trucks. Finally. Oh good, there's two of them. They'll know what to do. OK. OK. It looks like these guys aren't in a rush either.  Take your time, buddy. Slow and steady. Now there's just got to be a way up to that roof, darn-it!

So after 10 minutes of standing and waiting (for what more?) we decided to skedaddle. Turns out that the view from our apartment window reassured us that approximately 15 fire-extinguishes, 5 security staff, 3 waiters, 1 cook, 2 waiters and 4 firemen later, everything was under control.

(T)issue #2:

In my last English lesson my students asked about the phrase "trivial pursuit." Since I figured they were not referring to America's favorite trivia game, we attacked the phrase by breaking it down into smaller parts. Trivial: insignificant, small, of very little importance. Pursuit: an activity in which the person is actively engaged, a quest, the act of chasing to obtain a result. Good, good. Put those two words back together again and you get...A&Z wandering the hutongs of Beijing, trying to find an advertised organic farmer's market, only to finally come upon this empty scene: no farmers, no market, no pesticide-free veggies, no notice, just a torn down hand-made sign with arrows pointing to nowhere. Cancelled. 

(T)issue #3:

Did you now they (the man) are turning off our heat in three days? That means no more heated floors, too. I shiver from the mere thought.

(T)issue #4:

On one of my more recent subway rides I thought I was being polite. Turns out, I was just being stupid. While I was riding along, trying to pay attention to the announcements, an old woman and her daughter stepped onto the subway car. Z and I got up from our seats and offered them to the pair of women.  The old woman sat down, but insisted that I take back my seat. She pointed to her daughter and said to me, "You can see she is fat." Heh? Did I hear her correctly? "You can see she is fat, she won't fit here. You are skinny. Sit down." The Chinese are very frank about these things. Stumbling for the right words, because the daughter wasn't fat, maybe a little plump, but fat, eh, I responded, "No, she's not. No problem. Here, sit down." The old woman then said to her daughter, "She doesn't understand me!" The daughter said, "I am fat!" When the next subway station stop is yours and you are in the midst of an argument with an old Beijing woman, there's a fine line between not knowing what she is saying, and not knowing how to respond to her. 

(T)issue #5:

I haven't told you yet about our trip to Hong Kong and Macao that was more than two weeks ago because I have been having some technical difficulties with my visa which was supposed to be fixed in HK, but matters were only further complicated because of the visit. Upon our return to Beijing, I needed to fix the problem within a 30-day window. Part of the solution meant a visit to the US Embassy to obtain proof of marriage - the visa office wanted that official raised seal that my photocopied marriage certificate is missing. I thought I was doing the right thing by leaving our original certificate safe at home in New Jersey. I thought I was doing the right thing by asking my parents to send our original certificate to Beijing. Save your parents/friends/lawyer some money and just bring the damn thing with you! To get that official seal on an official document, Z and I had to swore in front of an US Embassy officer (hands raised) that we are indeed legally married. Was this like renewing our vows? It's not exactly how I pictured it, but what the heck...Z, you may now kiss the bride!

(T)issue #6:

Sometimes our apartment stinks! Literally. There is an inexplicable odor that appears now and again from the depths of the bathroom sink (is it the neighbor's smoke? the water? the ew, things we'd rather not discuss?). That's Beijing for you. So we grin and bare it and cover it up. That means we are aware of candle shops, air fresheners, Martha Stewart methods of boiling citrus peels for a homier aroma. You can imagine my glee when I spied from the corner of my eye a genuine Yankee Candle shop at the mall. It's new! It's a utopia of fragrances! Even Z was excited to check out the likes of candles, diffusers and air fresheners in a variety of flavors and scents.  Country Lemonade, Macintosh Apple, Pumpkin Pie, Spring Days, Fluffy Towels, Good Clean Air. I wanted them all. Then sticker shock set in. Do you have any idea how much "America's #1 Candles" cost in China? One jar candle is $90. Nine-ty. But we broke down and bought one votive for US five dollars. It was the quickest $5 I've ever burned. 

(T)issue #7:

I still am not going to tell you about Hong Kong and Macao now, but my last little story of the day pertains to an incident we witnessed at the end of our trip. We were at the Shenzhen airport checking in for our return flight to Beijing, and in the line next to us we noticed the beginning of a verbal altercation. Disagreements mixed with hastiness and haughty attitudes is not an unlikely combination in airports across the world.  Except, this particular verbal altercation quickly turned into a fist fight, which lasted for a good 45 seconds uninterrupted. Two gentlemen guys were trading punches back-and-forth. There was a choke hold one minute, and an elbow punch the next. Meanwhile, the clerk behind the counter simply continued to check-in fighter #1 for his flight! Fighter #2 (the one that was doing the choking, but also losing the fight with a few too many punches to the head, and whom we think cut in line which prompted the altercation) gave the non-verbal cue that the fight was over with an intense stare. When the two guys stopped punching each other, fighter #1 dusted himself off, smoothed out his hair, returned to the counter, got his ticket, and strolled off for the security line. Fighter #2 moved back to the check-in line behind a row of airline patrons waiting patiently. After the public display of testosterone and territory, two airport security guards wandered over, said nothing, did nothing, and returned to their posts. Getting authorities involved in fights and disagreements, even car accidents, can be a big taboo in Chinese culture. Now picture this same scene going down in Newark Airport. 

Of course, all of this is trivial, shameful really, because 24 hours ago that earthquake struck and the tsunami destroyed so much of Japan. Time to think "bigger picture."

true story

Is it in poor taste for me to share this little story?

I was bicycling along yesterday, and the slow moving car driving along side me sped up a bit in order to pass me and pull over into the bike lane. The driver stopped the car but kept the engine running. Then the front passenger and the driver simultaneously opened their car doors, leapt from their seats and ran around the car in opposite directions from one another. The duo then hopped back into the vehicle, satisfied with their switched positions and sped away.

Please don't make me say it.