Today's weather report.

Because I am my father's daughter, I am going to talk about the weather. Again.

For all my whining about the many layers of clothing I've had to add to my frame each night, the way my feet don't quite warm up all day, or how my scarf is forever strewn across my shoulders, the weather in the past three days has been hen hao (very good)!! I am excited each day to jump on my bike and seek out escapades. OK. I'm not that graceful on my bike. I am not yet skilled in the way of the forward motion glide and then the quick hop onto the bike, like all the old ladies in the neighborhood have mastered. I've got down the dismount. I've been using those hand breaks. Still, as thoroughly awkward as I am as I start up my engine, I am upright, forward moving and happy to be peddling along, at any rate. 

So, back to the weather. Since I last wrote, the days have been full of sunshine and cool breezes and changing leaves. Picture it - there I am, peddling along Gongti Xilu (our street, across from Worker's Stadium - a sports arena that houses the city's soccer team), waiving to friends, handing out "hellos" on my way to Mandarin class, smiling all the way. My neighbor, already outside entertaining his infant grandson who is balanced on his hip, asks me how I'm doing. I give little teng teng (that's the baby's name) a pinch on his chubby pink cheeks, and tell grandpa, "wo hen hao!" I stop at the corner of my building and bend over to embrace a golden retriever puppy that runs into my arms. The street is lined with soccer fans for the afternoon game, donning their favorite team's colors, echos of chants in unison reverberate from inside the stadium. The man on the corner sells baked yams; their sweet smell wafting from the hot steel drum that cooks them to perfection. I get back on my bike and cheerfully peddle away, dodging the crowd...Back it up. In my imagination the leaves are changing into the deep ambers, cozy reds and warm yellows of the fall. Oh, yeah. And all that other stuff, too, with the exception of me on my bike smiling, where we live, the soccer fans, baked yams, meeting teng teng and the stopping to pet a dog. I'm still a stranger in my neighborhood, so when I say "ni hao," it's usually just directed to the doormen lulling around. I don't waive to anyone on my bike; I'm just beginning to work up the nerve to take one hand off the handlebars. teng teng has not let me pinch his cheeks, and grandpa does not ask me how I am doing. 

It must be the faint hint of a New Jersey autumn traveling 7,000 miles over the currents to Beijing that lets my imagination run off course. Forgive me; it must be all the pumpkin picking, hot apple cider drinking and hay ride riding with my nephew I am missing that lets me wander into half truths about my autumnal Beijing days.

I have heard Beijingers joke that this city has two season: winter and summer. For a fleeting moment I wanted to share with you what Beijing can feel like in autumn. It can feel familiar. It can feel like a warm oven heating the house with the smells of baking cookies. It can feel like a little black soft puppy curled up on your lap. It can feel like winning baseball games. It can feel like crunching dried leaves. It can feel like hugs from babies. It can feel like the sweet, sticky, toothy bite of a caramel apple. It can feel like burning embers in the fireplace. It can feel like the mixed angst and reward of a new school year. It can feel like socks straight from the dryer and onto your feet. It can feel like seeing old friends. It can feel like home.

Now, back to the weather...

2010-2011 reported to be coldest winter in Beijing in 100 years

How to purchase utilities in Beijing. Today's lesson is Heat.

1) Wait until November 15 for the government to flip the collective heat switch to the "on" position.

That's right. Only one step to today's lesson because there will be no heat in this apartment until November 15. No heat in this building. No heat in my classroom. No heat in my favorite restaurant around the corner. No heat in public buildings. No. Heat. The last day it was really warm here was the day we visited the Mutianyu section of the Great Wall. Since then, it's been thick socks, gloves, hats and me whimpering under lots of layers of clothing. According to Z's Brookstone travel clock, the temperature inside is bearable. My froze nose and I beg to differ.

But it's not all bad, right? The unofficial population of Beijing has climbed to somewhere between 20 to 22 million people. That means that until the heat is turned on November 15, the city is not burning tens of thousands of tons of coal each day to heat every man, woman, child, and new pet. If outfitting myself in extra layers each day means less pollution and more sunshine to cut through the clouds, then I will do my part to wait out these cooler than cool autumnal days.

There is a lovely electronic board outside our lobby that posts the day's weather forecast. The Celsius scale reports to me in single digits that today it's going to be another refreshingly cold day. Almost as refreshingly cold as my shower this morning. Hey, at least this time I was more prepared.  Z and I actually noticed the signs taped inside the elevators and lobby warning us about no hot water until tomorrow morning. If we didn't see those signs I could have been mis-posting now about how I thought our pipes had frozen because of the cold weather.

I realize that there are lots of people in this country that do not have the privilege of living on the 17th floor of a fabulous building, overlooking the skyline, and complaining to the world about how cold they feel. With a little perspective, and an extra scarf, I'm going to cozy up to the sunniest spot in front of my windows and think warm thoughts.

Good Gracious

It has been nine days since we last enjoyed a little vitamin D and warmth from the big glowing orb in the sky. But yesterday it rained, which made way for a glorious sun shiny Monday morning filled with chilly winds, blue skies and a new blog post.

Despite the onset of the changing weather and shorter days, I was not hibernating last week. I was experiencing Beijing (said loud and proud, with arms wide open, pointed up toward the skies, dramatic music playing in the background!)!

OK. OK. I'll turn down Elton singing "Circle of Life" so you can hear me. You know already that I have begun my language journey and my yoga journey. Not only is my brain all a-jumble, my body is now as well. Both exercises leave me feeling humbled about my adult self and my abilities. While I am trying to be all zen and in the moment, stretching my non-flexible muscles and joints both toward and away from the earth, new Mandarin phrases are bouncing around my mind disrupting my qi. After I practice downward gou, I yao qu ying hang. I place wo de you shou on wo de zuo thigh, ran hou wo qu jiu ba. I zhi dao how to breath with each movement, and how to ask for yi bei cha.  (*you'll have to write me or call me for translation of my Chinglish!) It's exhausting, zhen de!


Last week was not all about new physical and mental anguish (which I am sure, with diligence, will eventually pay great dividends). The week was also about meeting new people, and enjoying the company of other laowai and Beijingers. Our few social ventures began on Tuesday when Z and I, along with Z's U.S. advisor and her husband, were invited to dinner by Z's Chinese advisor. Did you get that? Z's U.S. advisor and her husband were in town for a week, both of whom are friends with Z's Chinese advisor. There we were, at one big round table in a private room: four China experts plus me, enjoying the gastronomic splendors of Zhejiang cuisine. We chatted over small glasses of yellow wine, my eyes grew bigger and bigger each time another plate or bowl or heated vessel jostled for space at the table. In the end, we were served more than a dozen unique dishes, but we never finished one completely. So much food! So little room in our full bellies!


Most of the discussion was, of course, China related and about Z's studies. However, some of the dinner conversation led to questions about my activities in Beijing, and what I do to occupy my time. My answer to these types of queries always leaves me feeling a bit like a fresh faced college graduate. Exploring my options. Taking it easy. Reading for pleasure. Applying to grad school. Watching more YouTube and Hulu than ever before. Living off the fat of the land...etc. etc. No worries, Ma, I'm not going back to school again. Yet.


Thursday evening, the Beijinger, an ever resourceful online and print magazine serving the expat community, held its 9th anniversary party at a rooftop restaurant and lounge. For RMB99 it was all you could drink, so we did. Without sounding desperate, it was great to talk and laugh with other native English speakers other than my husband. With "free" drinks in hand and huddled under space heaters, good times were had by all! *If you look verrrry closely at the picture in the beijinger link, there's Z toward the back,  on the right hand side at the bar in the plaid shirt! It's like looking for Where's Waldo!


Besides the great conversation, company and meals, I experienced an important lesson from last week's  evenings out: Living in Beijing, it's all about the guanxi. Can't remember how to say "Where's the bathroom?" or "I lost my husband!" or "Did I miss the train?" Forget about it, and concentrate your energies on guanxi: the art of developing and maintaining personal networks and relationships in Chinese society. Yikes. PR 101 meets Beijing 101! There is even a wiki page about it. If there was a Chinese version of Will Smith, he'd have a hit pop rap record about guanxi, with DJ Jazzy Jeff spinning records by his side. The Donald Trump of Beijing would ooze guanxi, while the illusory Holden Caulfield would detest the very idea of guanxi. If ever there was a Chinese version of LinkedIn, you could connect through Guanxi Online. Am I driving home my point? 


Later this week, I'll tell you all about where my first guanxi connections have led to, and the school for migrant children I was fortunate to visit. It had nothing to do with the new boots Z bought me. Until next  time. 

...should you choose to accept it

I'll start with the question:
Is it better to walk 20 minutes to class in the rain and cold with an umbrella to protect you from the elements falling from the overcast sky?
OR 
Is is better to manage a five-minute bike ride to class at top speed in the rain and cold, with no umbrella and the winds coming at you at an accelerated rate, while your hands freeze to the handlebars? 
I expect at least my Virginian-Rhode Islander by way of Austin, Princeton, Philly cohorts to ponder me this one.
Either way, I got to class just fine.

Yes, today was another big day big morning in the newly discovered adult life of yours truly. I was a bit confused after the first 50 minutes of class when still, it was just little old me in the hot seat, and no other students to be found in what is supposed to be a "small group" class. Perhaps I missed the memo for bring your own students to class day? I have been told that my fellow classmate, singular, will be ready to learn alongside me for the full 110 minutes on Wednesday morning. Woo! hoo! I'm a student again! And I promise this is legit. It's not a "Speak Mandarin in less than 24 Hours if you Act Now!! You'll go from Dud to Dim Sum," kind of schooling. My laoshi is great (remember, "great" is a highly regarded adjective). Thus far, she is patient and kind and friendly. 

Since I undertook one of my "to do" items from my China list, its time to add on another. It's going to be:
While dining out with Z, invite a perfect stranger or couple to dine with us. There are lots of expats in this city, and it's possible that most of them want to be left alone. But that is not going to stop me from trying harder to be more welcoming and friendly to them. 

Because I challenged myself today, I am throwing one simple mission your way, should you choose blah blah blah:
Eat your breakfast/lunch/dinner with chopsticks today! I'm raising the stakes: the meal cannot be Chinese food or sushi or Asian food of any kind. And it can't be finger food, either. Go ahead. Feel silly about it. Set the table with those bamboo wonders instead of the familiar trio of flatware you love. Dig into your favorite t-bone or chicken fricassee without a knife and fork; slurp up that chicken noodle soup or cap'n crunch sans spoon. No cheating, now. (I savored the moment and used chopsticks today to eat salt and vinegar chips. Those imported crisps are too expensive to wolf down in a few senseless chomps.)

This message will self-destruct in 5, 4, 3... 

"Show 'em you're a tiger..."

Think of a place that overwhelms you with a profound sense of your own existence and being. Yes, it's that dramatic, today. Think of a place that is monumental, breathtaking, powerful, historically rich and rare. 

Now, describe that same place in one word. 

That's it?! Great. That's the word you have chosen to represent thousands of years of history, of legendary fortification, of vast man-made military grandeur with no equal?! 

How is it that "great" has come to describe a nation's most famous symbol of unbroken will and strength AND Tony the Tiger's breakfast cereal? 

I will choose to say instead, that yesterday, I climbed the Amazing-Vibrant-National Treasure-Revelation Inducing-Wonder of the World-Eternal-Healthier Awareness of Myself-Wall of China. "And how was it?" you ask...

It was unbelievable, beautiful, boundless and astounding. To be touching and climbing a structure of such historical significance was for me to realize a moment I have always dreamed of experiencing. To be there the first time amid the fall foliage was perfection. With a Chinese historian husband, no less! Oh, the perks of marrying a nerd. 

So, friends, family, complete strangers who happen upon this blog because I label my entries to direct more google traffic my way:

I hope you experience something Great today. I really mean it.

Please read all directions carefully before proceeding

Remember that quiz that teachers handed out in middle school? The one page worksheet that started out with Before beginning this quiz, please read all questions and directions carefully...then at the end of the quiz, you are directed to skip all questions, write your name in the upper right hand corner of the paper, put down your pencil and look up.

So, I did not read all directions carefully this time. OK. So I can't read Mandarin at all, but someone in this household can and does. At the very least, we should have noticed the existence of the large print signs taped to the inside of the elevator wall and to the bulletin board in the lobby. We have 17 flights up and down each day to realize management wants us to know something very important. For example, they may want to inform us that the water is going to be shut off for several hours over the weekend and as a resident of this building we may want to kindly take any necessary precautions.

Now I can't use "no cleaning" or even "not more than one load of laundry in a day" as an excuse to preserving our water supply.

Just a Drop in the Bucket

How to purchase utilities in Beijing. Today's lesson is Water.

Sounds vaguely familiar, right? Good. That means you've been following along, and you already know how to go about purchasing electricity for your Beijing apartment. So, let's get to it.

1) First, spend your entire Friday cleaning the entire apartment from top to bottom. I mean, really give it a good scrub. Make it shine. Let's divide this step into sub-categories, shall we?

a) Wash three loads of laundry in one day. You've been avoiding laundry altogether for a week and it's about time your neighbors got another glimpse at your skivvies hanging out to dry in the windows.

b) Wash the sinks, the bathroom mirrors, the shower, behind the toilets in that spot you can't see but know it's collecting dust and worse. Do this using a combination of what's left of your cleaning supplies mixed with the faucet water and elbow grease.

c) Wash alllll the dishes. They have been collecting dust, not because you don't use them daily, but because Beijing apartments get exceedingly dusty every minute of the day. You have realized that ignoring the dust does not make it go away on its own. Because the water never gets hot, you let the kitchen faucet run longer than you normally would like to admit in a country with a water crisis.

d) Clean, clean clean. Behind the kitchen sink. The top of the fridge. The floors. Underneath the fridge. Under the cabinet. On top of the cabinet. The light fixtures. Under the couch. Under the bed. On top of the table. The windows. The flat screen TV that's never on because you get only one English speaking channel that plays the same program every two hours. Anything you see or touch. Clean it.

2) Spend the rest of your afternoon busying yourself by making lunch, wasting time online, and watching the third Twilight series movie. It's true. Beijing has broken you and you are now watching DVDs you bought from the corner shop for a dollar. You just wanted to see what the big deal is about this Twilight business. It's a dollar!

3) Somehow, it's already 8:00 PM, and you've exerted your cooking energy for the day at lunchtime. Go out for Peking roast duck.

4) Come home from dinner and plop yourself on the couch. Glance over at that plant you purchased three weeks ago; it needs watering.

5) Turn on the tap in the kitchen. There is a faint gurgling sound, but not a drop of water. Go to the half-bath to test that sink, too. psssssssstttttttttttthhhhhh. Check the other bathroom sink, the shower, flush the toilet. On second thought, don't flush the toilet. Save that water.

6) Check your bottled water situation.

7) You can check the faucets again in an hour or so, but don't get your hopes up.

8) Distract yourself by watching Don Draper destroy his life.

9) Before you go to bed, don't forget to brush your teeth and wash your face.

10) Damnit! girgle, girgle, hissss, phhhhhtttt.

11) Repeat step #9 using bottled water. In fact, repeat step #8, too.

12) The next day, if you can't shower in the morning because you lack water, don't worry. You planned to hike the Great Wall.  And, anyhow, you're going to hide your unwashed self under a cool baseball cap embroidered with the Chinese character "tiger" that your friends gave you before you left for Beijing.

13) You return from your amazing day at the Great Wall. You're still on a high from having touched one of the Seven Wonders of the World. You forget that your water stopped flowing freely from its spouts 18 hours ago. You could really use a hot shower right about now.