You're a grand old flag!

Happy Birthday, America! Or, as I like to say these days "Meiguo duliri kuaile!"

Something like that.

Want to know what The Fourth of July is like in China?

It's just like the third of July, or the second of September, or even the twelfth of May. Except, today I wore my Boston t-shirt while I made a big pot of chili in lieu of a BBQ, and a Mark Bittman watermelon salad so we could pretend we were also attending a potluck get-together in someone's backyard.

By the way, the watermelons in Beijing are the tastiest I've ever had. For 15-25 kuai each, I gobble up at least one per week.

So, get out there today and celebrate all the outdoor festivities you can muster up. Have a hotdog and Sam Adams Summer Seasonal for me. Watch some fireworks and snuggle up on a blanket under the stars. Don't forget to wear your red, white and blue and some sunscreen. Now, it's time for us to make patriotic plaid look good:

pride vs ability

Is it still called "skiing" when the mountain snow is covered by a sheath of ice? Nevertheless, I can't let this one get by, even though it's a sticky, sweaty, exhausting almost-summer day in Beijing.

Skiing is becoming an increasingly popular sport for the Chinese. In and around Beijing, there are a handful of (read: five, maybe) ski "resorts" for snow-sport lovers. Z and I don't necessarily fit into the "snow-sport lover" category, but when you've been offered an all-expensive paid trip to Beijing's Wanlong Ski Resort, there's little reason to say, "no thanks" to it. Way back in February my name was drawn as the grand prize winner of Travel-Stone's  weekend getaway. So, before all the snow melted, Z and I embarked on our first skiing lessons together to Heibei province, four hours from Beijing, in the middle of March. The prize included the hotel, transportation to and from, ski rentals and lift tickets. And to think, I was just minding my own business picking out red wine in the supermarket, when I was asked to drop my name in the hat. Thanks, Travel-Stone!

Do you ski? Do you have any idea what it's like to learn how to ski in another language? It's not that your body acts differently altogether, but it's that it takes a bit longer for your brain to process what your body is supposed to be doing.  It goes something like this:

A - "Damn! Why didn't I look up the word for ski in the dictionary before we left!?"
Instructor - talks for a good three minutes, gesturing his arms this way, while his legs move that way.
Z - "Yeah, he's just saying to follow him. Look at what he's doing."
A - "Well, I got as much. I know he's saying the words body, left, right, and something about slowing down."

After a two hour lesson, which we desperately needed, Z and I were told we were ready to graduate from the bunny slopes - the easy-breezy, fun-loving, perfectly acceptable, there's no shame in staying on the bunny slopes if you ask me - to the blue square trails, or "intermediate" trails.

Since I am being totally honest with you here, I'll tell you how this all went down.

Z and I boarded the ski lift, and for five pleasant moments we traveled up, up, up. The sun was shining, and from our point of view the snow looked fluffy, even welcoming. Just as we were about to get off the lift, Z shared a little story with me about how his parents went skiing once and fell off the ski lift together. Ha. Ha. That's all it took to psyche me out, and within seconds, there I was flat out on my butt, while Z watched from the standing position a few feet away. While I was laughing at myself, I was simultaneously being dragged away (literally, dragged) by the lift operated. I'm certain he was swearing at me, and found no humor in my stumble as the next skier approached us at ferocious ski-lift speed.

Now, I understand that the whole point to learning how to ski involves falling down and getting back up.

Fall down. Get back up. Falling down is easy. Getting back up while you search for your sunglasses and your left ski is not so easy. 

We reached the top of the blue square trail, and off I went, at an unnerving speed. I had it! Total control of my body until, seconds later, I realized how fast I was moving, and then I lost all sense of my own body's movements. As I whizzed passed Z, he later told me "She's got it! She's really good at this. Wow!" And then, out of his sight, and finding no other way to stop myself, I threw myself to the icy patch of mountainside, feeling totally out of control of my limbs and senses. As I tried to lift my bruised body off the ground, searching for my recently snapped-off skis, I wondered what was taking so long for the ski instructor and Z to come rescue me! Then I realized Z had taken his own tumble, at the same unpredictable ice-induced speed. 

The rest of the mountain seemed impossible to me. Tumble after tumble, I slowly made my way back down to the security and innocence of the bunny slope - mere memories at that point.

How do you say "I'll just go down the hill on my butt!"?

After what seemed like a missed opportunity to snuggle up inside the ski lodge with a cup of hot cocoa, I eventually made my way down to a safer, less-inclined position. Z went back up the Mountain of Fear and Shame to prove something to himself that I was all to comfortable accepting: skiing is not my cup of tea. The mountains, the green blue skies, the nature outside of Beijing, and the hotel's heated floors and over-king-sized bed  - yes, that is for me. But skiing, it was nice to meet you.

oh, the safety and security of the bunny slope

check it

My high school students rock! Three of the five students I have been working with since early November were selected to interview for an opportunity to attend a United World College - a two-year, pre-university school made up of an international student body, that teaches the International Baccalaureate Diploma...in other words, this chance to attend a UWC inevitably will lead to the student applying to and being accepted by an American or European four-year college. For a group of students who have never been outside of China, this means that one of them will be changed forever. Literally. Her world view will expand far beyond the struggles that she faces as a child of migrant workers, and she will continue to work toward directing her own future. One of the students wants to teach Chinese as a foreign language, another wants to be a television host traveling around the world to raise awareness of social issues and charity, and the third student wishes to change the world through politics and economic reform. I've no doubt that each one of them will accomplish her goals. With only eight days notice, and eight straight, 12-hour days of mock interviews, soul-searching and critical thinking they all did phenomenally well. I think the UWC committee was impressed by their thoughtfulness and by their English speaking skills. The process was exhausting for all of us, but I am so proud of the way they expressed themselves. I am thankful I do not have to make the choice about who will attend the UWC, as we anxiously await the final decision.  


Image that you have fewer than eight days to apply for college, by completing a series of essay questions and preparing for an interview in front of an international committee of educators and administrators. Force yourself to do some major meditative self-reflection to answer the questions "why do you belong?" and "what can you contribute?" Now imagine doing all of that in another language. I know. Try not to feel so bad about yourself now. There's no point in measuring yourself against these kids. They'll win every time.

a visit from my Mom in April! The students are wearing shirts from Mom's Mount Olive Middle School.
On the chalk board - the lesson on "What's Your Slogan?"

back by popular demand

D-Day approaches, my friends. You might be thinking I've gotten my historical dates mixed up, and missed my mark by a week, but this D-Day is personal.  Decision Day tomorrow. Time to get your game faces on. The Future is just beyond the horizon, and Z and I have to make some tough choices about our time in Beijing. First, let's examine how we've gotten to this point. After all, I've kept you out of the loop for so long!

It's during the times of chaos and activity and happenings that I should be writing. I should have been telling you all along about our many visitors, my kick-ass English classes with my high school students, my private tutoring, my nonplussed reaction toward Beijingers non-reaction to Osama's death. Hell, I've even gotten my hair cut again since I last wrote, and let me tell you, it was another memorable experience. But instead, I retreated. I tried to avoid the inevitable by claiming writer's block, or a busy schedule, or sheer exhaustion at the thought of having to write at the end of my sixth visit to the Great Wall. But as my students say, "It's all pomp!" (still, by the way, I'm not exactly certain what the interpretation of this saying is...), and time marches on. I'm not going to fizzle out. There's more you may endure from this chatterbox.

So, what exactly have I been doing during the month of my hiatus? Here's what I've spared you up until now:
1) Revisiting the fact that time and again all this "free time" on my hands is simultaneously frightening and liberating. Living in Beijing has taught me that I am a person who is (a) more capable of accomplishing things I never thought I would, but also (b) pretty damn lazy when I want to be, too.
2) Rediscovering that saying goodbye to friends and family never, ever, ever gets easier. Cue downward spiral into horrible homesickness which then leads to questions about...
3) What am I doing with my life!? What am I going to do with the Chinese that I've learned? What kind of job can I get when we return home...which then leads to...
4) When are we going back the US?? How can we unpack all that stuff in storage? Maybe I should just give it all away? I don't feel ready to leave China...
5) But sometimes these decisions are made for us. Especially when mula, cash, dough, kuai, money is involved. Z and I have had to ponder the fact that the grant we have been waiting to hear about for additional funding was (suddenly?) CANCELLED by the US Department of Education. Congress has allocated zero funding for international educational exchange for doctoral candidates for the 2011-2012 fiscal year under the Fulbright-Hays program. Notice came by way of email. A short, bureaucratic, non-apologetic, don't blame us, blame others kind of email. I accept the fact that we are lucky to be here are here because Z worked really hard to get us here. We shouldn't look our noses up at the lost opportunity but be thankful for the opportunity we have already been granted. words, words, words. We're still disappointed.

Do you see how quickly and naturally I progressed into this state of anxiety?

After nine months in Beijing I felt I had settled into Comfortable Me, and forgotten briefly what it's like to be Working Full-time Me, or Searching for Another Apartment Me, or  Having to Pay the Cable Bills Me ("cable TV" is $15/year here and I've learned to live without the onslaught of 24 hour news and entertainment). I've known all along that life in Beijing was not going to be permanent, but man, does it have to end so soon?!  Before long, will I return to the country where the college students' gut reaction to the death of the world's most sought after terrorist is to chant "USA! USA!" in roving groups? Do you have any idea how to explain this kind of behavior to a Beijing taxi driver? I'm still searching for the right way to express the phrase "morally troublesome" in Mandarin.

decisions, decisions...

So, we've given ourselves this deadline of June 15 to come up with a decision, because student visas don't last forever in the land of dumplings and Mao memorabilia. Find a job in Beijing that could keep us here for another six months, or return to the US and start our Boston life together? If it's the latter, then I am going to have to start a list of things I am looking forward to doing back in the States. If it's the former, then I better get myself to that Confucius Temple I've been meaning to check out right quick. T-minus six hours until tomorrow. Maybe we'll give ourselves until June 15, eastern standard time.

can Boston make us this happy, again?!

Bunny Hop

Even though we arrived in the Year of the Tiger, a fortuitous year that brought good news for both of us, and much sought after academic accomplishments for Z, it is well established that this is my year to explore: The Year of the Rabbit.

I have also deemed this year:

The Year(s) of Before We Have Kids

The Year of Before More Responsibilities

The Year of Before A&Z Truly Become Adults (will that happen in the next decade?) 

The Year of Making Decisions and Not Making Decisions 

The Year To Look Back On

The Year of Making A Fool of Myself, Not on Purpose, on Several Occasions

The Year of Trying Newer Foods

The Year of Perhaps Not Allowing Loud Neighborly Sounds and General Apartment Living-isms to Annoy Me

The Year of Updating My Resume

The Year of Learning More About Me and My New Hidden Talents

I have also decided that from this year forward, I will make any resolutions starting only during the Chinese New Year and no sooner, no matter my geographical position on this planet. The Eastern Standard Time New Year is all well and good, but making promises to myself on the eve of December 31 can easily be postponed a month or so. This way those promises won't be broken until later into the calendar year. Logic prevails!

the science and art of healing

If your day is turning out to be anything like mine, then I am certain you have been anxiously awaiting for the results of yesterday's science experiment.

Just let me grab another tissue, first.

OK. So, I'm not cured. But I did sleep a lot better (after my second piping hot mug of the elixir known as Ganmao Qingre Keli). Almost immediately after finishing yesterday's post and the first round of meds, my head cleared up, which made breathing, that daily task that is taken for granted all too often, much much easier. I don't want to jinx myself by being too optimistic, but this stuff seems to be working my cold up and out of the confines of my body.

I'll give it another day, another round of watching TV shows on DVD (we found that forgotten but beautifully costumed series Pushing Daisies), another book reading, and another few mugs of the wonder drug before I weigh in with my final analysis.

I promise much more exciting news on the horizon. Chun Jie is really right around the corner. I have almost two weeks off from classes because of the holiday - adventures abound! We are seeing David Sedaris tomorrow evening at Mako Live House; so now I must save up the remainder of my energy to think of something witty to say to him as he's autographing my copy of his latest book (Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk)! I have ruled out Chinese phrases I have learned such as, "what a good dog you have!" I say this as I am petting the neighbor's overly-active golden retriever and it is stealing my mitten off of my hand in one slobbery fell swoop. Or, for instance, when I introduce Z to my Mandarin teachers, saying, "this is my husband, he is a student of history" which actually usually comes out of my mouth as, "this is my student, he is a Chinese husband history." Or, my favorite, "today is very cold, you should wear a coat!" I never get that one wrong.

Under Adjusting

As of this moment, this yellow sign stands in our lobby:

It states (not so?) clearly that this elevator is temporarily out of use. Unavailable. Do not use. Scram.


































Sometimes I wish I could carry this same yellow sign around me.
I'm under adjusting today, people!
Not functioning! Move on!
Can't you tell by the posture? Arms crossed? Cold, reflective, inattentive stare? 
Do not attempt to use.
Out of order.
Do not pass go.
Take the stairs if you have to. 
But, do not rely on me, today! 
Do not.



So, why the yellow sign and the sad face?

But first (because let's face it, there is always a But, first with me), let me point out what I am not Under Adjusting about, exactly. There is no great re-adjustment period to life back in Beijing. Everything is still as shocking, complicated, wonderful, frustrating and new as it was before we went home for the holidays. There is, thank goodness, no major shock to my system as we return to Chinese cuisine. My body isn't making a mockery of the food and reliving those first few months of routine college dining-hall gastronomical effects. I am still annoyed as hell with the neighbors and their raucous nighttime, now turned to (also) daytime, trysts. The dog down the hallway is as frantic as ever; he barks, barks, barks from sunrise to whenever the hell his owner's return home. So, no change there. See. I can continue to be as curmudgeonly as ever if I choose.

Yes, yes. So, why the yellow sign and the sad face?

Because my schedule changed. MY schedule. My routine. My day-to-day. My Beijing Me.
I know, you're thinking, "You moved to a foreign country site unseen. Get a hold of yourself. Life is change. blah. blah. A little change is good." Yeah, I get it.

Yes, but. BUT. I was sailing along, happily attending my private lessons, twice a week, with a teacher I like. I was fitting in actual physical exercise twice a week, too. I had developed the right timing for creating my lesson plans for the Dandelion School students. Then, out of the blue from my school: "An Mei (that's my Chinese name), An Mei, do you think you could take class with a different teacher, on different days, with two other students?" This of course, asked to me in Chinese.

My eloquent response:

"Huh? Whah? Why? Wei shenme?" in a sort of Chinglish.

This was like the same shock I felt when I completed first grade and I found out in order to get into second grade I would have all new teachers, and I was losing nap time.  OK. Maybe I wasn't that naive. Change is par for the course when you are the daughter of a Navy man and a sophisticated lady. Sure, you can move me from the South, to the East Coast, to the Midwest, back to the East Coast, down and around, across the pond and back again. But give me a little warning. Let me make the decision myself or at least be a part of the process. That is all I ask.



I don't fear big changes; I just dislike personal disruptions of the Chinese language variety. All those nasty feelings of incompetency rise up with change and the what if's come taunting. What if I can't understand the teacher? What if the other students are too cool for school (you know I hate that kind of attitude)? What if they can't understand me? What if I say too many things incorrectly? What if I fart in class? (Really just wanted to see if you are still paying attention).

So now what do I do? I find a new Beijing routine. I figure out when I can take my yoga classes on different days, with different instructors. I stop my whining and find a real problem to solve.

I'll just be carrying this big yellow sign around my waist for the time being.

___________________________________________________________________________
Side story about how I finally snapped a picture of the signage:


This is one of a handful of moments that the yellow signs have been displayed in our lobby, and each time, they exist much to my amusement. I do not bemoan the loss of a working elevator because there is something satisfying about seeing the phrase "Under Adjusting."


We returned home from yet another trip to the grocery store where we purchased more than our little bicycle baskets could handle, I ran into the apartment, flung down the bags, grabbed the camera and headed right back to the one working elevator to reach the lobby. Other attempts to snap proof of the signage have ended in failure; those pesky maintenance men seem to fix the elevator's issue before I can get back down to the lobby to snap away paparazzi style.  So, there I was minding my own business, hoping for a straight shot down when the elevator stopped at floor 12, and eight people got on. Then we stopped at floor 8 and two more people got on. At floor 5, two people got off and three people got on. At floor 1 everybody got out, and one woman waiting for the elevator to arrive, for some reason, did not get on. So there she was, with her grocery bags in hand, watching me take pictures of the "under adjusting" elevator signs in the lobby. Why, comes to mind. Why was she watching me? Why didn't she get on the elevator? Why wasn't she asking me, "Why are you so interested in these yellow signs you silly little white girl?"???

Nonetheless. Picture. Snapped. Check.

bunny bunny

Now that the Chinese New Year preparations are in full effect all around the city, I too, of course, want to be prepared. That means for 2011, in the year of the rabbit, it's all things bunny for this girl. So, besides the red lanterns and paper decorations I have picked up from the grocery store, this little gem of a bag had to be mine. I saw a variety of them in the window of LeSportsac in Sanlitun Village the other day; how could I walk away without my own little Chun Jie (Spring Festival/New Year) souvenir? 

Have you ever seen happier bunnies preparing for Chun Jie in all your life? They have even invited a Chinese dragon to celebrate with them (see him, in the lower left hand corner?).  It sums up the Chinese New Year so nicely for 2011: bunnies watching and setting off fireworks; bunnies eating candies, cakes and yummy jiaozi; bunnies with red lanterns; bunnies wearing new red clothing, fashioned with red accessories; bunnies giving out gifts of red envelopes with even dollar amounts of money for good luck and to ward away evil spirits; bunnies carrying red and gold diamond shaped paper posters to welcome prosperity, wealth, health and happiness in the New Year! 

And you thought it was just a silly little purse with silly little bunnies. 

jet-lag, shmet-shmag

Four states, five cities, seven towns. Fourteen nights only. Sold out tour.
Then 7,000 miles back around the globe.

I can pretend we were part of a grand performance tour these last couple of weeks. I sang duets on Glee Wii. I danced The Experience a-la Michael Jackson.  I performed shtick and voice over routines. I was chauffeured around, drank champagne and partied 'til four in the morning. I even wore sequins at one point during our East coast tour.  I got paid in QT (that's quality time for those not in the know) with friends and family and four legged fur balls.

ahh, the life of a temporary ex-pat.

Who had time to check blogs or write posts when there was so much else going on?!

Christmas celebrations, New Years Eve, and everything in between was fabulous. We were spoiled with love and gifts and all the special foods that we missed. A big thank you for friends and family remembering us with Christmas cards that were sent to our parents' houses. Also, another big thank you for the special annual Christmas-time CD with hand-selected tunes that kept us rockin' while we were home. Up and down the NJ parkway can be a long ride without good music. Time with family and friends was all too short. Plane rides were all too long.

And now, here I am again. Home sweet Beijing in 2011. In our tricked out apartment - aka, an apartment with a brandy-new toaster oven and (AND!) an air purifier. So, now we can breath easy. (how could i resist that line?) We did a little shopping today to say the least. Something had to keep us awake when our bodies are telling us, "sleep, sleep my precious."

Despite jet-lag induced wake up calls at 3:00 AM, and the hunger pangs that follow, life in Beijing is back to normal. Which means, more specifically, that life in Beijing is back to the unexpected,  roller-coaster, what does that mean, oh, I understand that, er, no I don't, but I am still happy, wait, someone from my school recognized me on the street-isn't that great? want to try that new, weird, tasty thing? kind of life.

Did I mention we got a toaster oven? And it does more than just make toast! I could make a whole chicken right now.
And an air purifier?! **

A few other new exciting happenings worth mentioning today:
(1) There is a new bus stop waiting area on our street, but no buses actually stop at that specific point. However, if I wish to stay dry, out of inclement weather, or people watch, it is nice to know I have a place to stand with strangers and a superb vantage point. Perhaps there I can discuss the weather with others and talk to neighborhood dogs.

(2) The scaffolding that surrounded one of the nightclubs on our street has finally been removed. Thank goodness! I wouldn't dare make an appearance there with that eye-sore of a front door. Girl's got to get her groove on. Now I will go straight away to change into my clubbing clothes (all black of course), and stuff a wad of money in my pockets to spend on a good night out.

(3) The Holiday Inn Express down the street from us is complete. It was under construction with practically just the foundation poured when we moved here four months ago. We toured the lobby of the hotel today, and I am mighty impressed. Migh-ty. Never in my life did I think I could be impressed with a Holiday Inn Express. There is even a very feng, very shui, garden in the hotel's backyard, modern furnishings in the lobby, and no-smoking signs that seem to be heeded thus far. Good job HI. Kudos to you.

(4) More completed construction -- we now have access to another little park area around the block. I am certain long, interesting, life-altering thoughts will be contemplated there and moments of brilliance and wit will be discovered there come warm weather.

(5) Not really that exciting, but perhaps worth mentioning. Our corner store guy did not greet us with a "Long time, no see!" or "Welcome back, where've you been?" But, I know he missed us, nonetheless.

(6) Food can be Fun and tasty! We discovered a Sushi Express restaurant today in the Ginza Mall named "I <3 Sushi" (there is literally a picture of a heart in the title). As you sit at a counter lined up in a row, individual sushi or sashimi portions roll along on a conveyor belt. You can watch the fish go by again and again before you decide which morsel to consume, or you can pick up every plate one by one if you are feeling famished. It's built in entertainment and an indecisive eater's dream or nightmare depending on how you look at it. The chef at one end keeps the plates refreshed and the variety interesting. Each plate costs the same RMB amount - six kuai. Lunch today was a whopping $7 for both of us!

(7) Spring Festival is just around the corner. In preparation, we - meaning I - am stocking up on all things red. We already have our sign on the front door (even though there is still a Christmas tree in the lobby), lanterns in the living room, and a plush red bunny in preparation of the celebration(s). After all, 2011 is the year of the hare, which I discovered only after asking Z, "Why are there rabbits everywhere?! Rabbit posters, rabbit cartoons, red rabbit plush, rabbit lanterns, rabbit coasters, rabbit hats, rabbit mugs?"

(8) Ding! Toast is done!



** for those looking, we bought ours at Wal-Mart - Yadu brand, model no. KJ130-TGS for just under 1000RMB. There's the cadillac model out there that costs 11,000 RMB, but, despite our lungs' pleas, we don't have that kind of mula to spend.

thank goodness they're gone!

...is what they wanted me to say when they left Beijing last week two weeks ago (OK, so I'm still a bit behind). But, the truth is, I'm still a bit sad to have seen them go. I will always remember our first guests in Beijing -- Z's Uncles.

They were here for almost two weeks, and we were their last stop on their semi-world tour. They started out in Paris, then trained their way to Berlin, then Warsaw, Moscow, Ute, Mongolia and then finally they were greeted by our shining faces in Beijing. What's that? Oh, yes, you do know the Uncles I am talking about. The Traveling Uncles. The Floating Boating Uncles. The New York Uncles by way of Miami Uncles. And now add to those titles, The Hutong Uncles and The Best Bargain Shopping Uncles in all of Beijing's Shopping Halls.

We had a fabulous time. It all started with a Friday evening of dirty martinis, but of course, and it ended with...well who cares how it all ended when there were several happy hours of dirty martinis? At one point there was a declaration by the Uncles that, "this would be great for the cockpit!" To which they were referring to the shining, spinning, musical orb that danced its way across the concrete floors of the underground walkway below Tiananmen Square. They just had to have it -- a toy that Z and I have often ignored, but which, in any case was a perfect addition to the Uncles' boat. I can't quite remember now if that was in the midst of the shopping sprees across this city, or if it was just the beginning. Either way, please do pay a visit to their boat in New York so you can see the musical, spinning, top-hat of a toy dance it's way into your hearts, too.

Like that spinning toy winding its way across the concrete floors with tenacity, we ventured just about everywhere. But it wasn't all whirlwind all the time, because in between sites and shopping, Z and I were taught the fine art of the afternoon coffee break. From the Temple of Heaven to the dumpling and hand pulled noodle cooking lesson, from the Lama Temple to the Bird's Nest and Water Cube, from Tiananmen Square to the Night Market, and from the Forbidden City to the Great Wall to shopping for electronics, we sipped and chatted, and chatted and sipped our way through Beijing. We shared stories and desserts. We had a movie night (with our new DVD player, thank you Uncles!) to marvel over Bertolucci's The Last Emperor because we had walked in the steps of that historic landmark just hours before. We tested my Mandarin skills with each taxi ride, or bargaining technique, or meal that we ordered. We had fun spelled with a capital 娱乐。

There is a sense of pride and ownership and joy that comes with playing host in a new home city. This joy comes easily when your guests are the traveling, eating, enjoying life kind of people. Just the kind of people whom we were lucky to have visited us. The pride and ownership comes with learning to share your love of a new place with others, despite its blemishes. There was that one incident on a major shopping street with the "lady of the night" accosting Uncle M for declining her advances (it's caught on tape), but we still wanted to showcase all the city had to offer. So, we did. We explored lots of Beijing's nooks and crannies and learned to love it even more because we could share it with Z's Uncles.

Thank goodness they visited!

Mellifluous

Here's the rub: I keep having the same dream. It's the one where it is somehow already the last day of school, and I realize I haven't shown up to any of my classes all year. My dream sequence flashes between Spanish class or math class or science lab. All my combined years of classmates are there, the years of schooling are intertwined. It's fourth grade on the Kansas playground, I'm cold and I can't zip up my jacket; then I'm flashed forward to high school, but instead of my suburban New Jersey classroom, I'm in a Boston University cafe studying communications theory. Then I am thrust back into the disquiet of my dream, sitting in my middle school cafeteria, and I realize I haven't finished a single school project while I am biting into my bologna sandwich. Is that Michael Jackson sitting next to me reciting Chinese poetry? I can't speak a word of Spanish. My calculus teacher is rehearsing Shakespeare instead of working out equations on the blackboard. I'm being tortured over chemistry compounds, and can't figure out why my Bunsen burner won't light correctly, but I'm fully costumed in an outfit that resembles a sheep's tail dancing around my college theater stage. There are not enough dream dictionaries that can sort out all of my hidden anxieties.

I am the girl who was supposed to keep a journal all semester, tomorrow is the due date, and I haven't written a single word. Time to break out the different colored pens to make it look like I was a diligent student.

Over two weeks ago, I stepped out of my dream world and into an actual classroom where I have a chalkboard, desks, overhead flickering fluorescent lights, a dais which seems way to formal (and on which I do not stand for too long), and most importantly five bright and enthusiastic Chinese high school students eager to learn more, more, more English. The time we spend together at the Dandelion School for two or three or more hours, is a way for the students to add flavor to their six years of textbook English. But they are already way past simple phrases and can tell me stories full of imagination and zest. I envy the way in which these students swallow up the banquet of English words and phrases, whereas I can only pick at my plate of Chinese syllables, scraping the sounds across my tongue.

These students come from an education system in China that is complicated and is compounded by the government's often neglectful stance toward the children of its migrant worker population -- a population of "people who are born and registered in [China's] countryside...but [who] travel to [the nation's] cities to live and work" (BBC online, 11/1/10).  According to the BBC online report on November 1, the recent Chinese government census could reveal a number as high as 200 million migrant workers nationwide. In a city of nearly 22 million people, it is difficult to count the number of migrant workers and their families who now call Beijing their home.The migrant workers who live in the nation's cities without holding proper documentation - a resident identity card called a hukou- are denied access to necessities like health care and formal quality education for their also unregistered children.  For those who are legally registered, the law states that children have the right to nine years of compulsory education. The system made progress five years ago when the Dandelion School opened its doors to the children of migrant workers. In doing so, Beijing and its government publicly declared its approval. The school remains (the first and) only government sanctified middle school providing formal education under the guidelines of State Compulsory Education Law to migrant children.

The five students with whom I meet every other Friday are graduates of the Dandelion School, and are making great strides towards succeeding despite their many obstacles. Obstacles that include coming from poor, rural families who still live with the financial pressures and the social embarrassment of having more than one child. These students all come from loving families that sacrifice more than just time and money to ensure they succeed past middle school and high school. By the time I reach the school around 2:00 PM, an hour from my apartment by taxi, the students have already put in a full day of high school, a full week without seeing their families, and have traveled an hour to meet me. They postpone their weekends and getting to see their families so that they can improve their English speaking skills, their listening comprehension, and their critical thinking about community. During our "English only" sessions, the students improve upon sharing their personal narratives so that they can continue to improve the narrative itself.

The first Friday I met with the students, I had more jitters than any of my own years of "first day of school" nerves combined. But, almost immediately after arriving, I was eased by the familiarity of their teenage expressions. I could tell right away from their smiling faces that they enjoy returning to the school, visiting their former teachers and principal, saying hello to classmates and hugging siblings who might also have the opportunity to attend the Dandelion School.

I hesitate to speak specifically about each of the five students because I do not want to simplify or water down their stories. Also, I have not yet asked their permission to write about them individually in my public space, so I will not do so now. But it is important to tell you that this is not a debate about the education system in China versus the education system in the United States. It is in part a recognition of five students and their families who, despite carrying the weight of the world on their backs, make education a priority in their lives. They create meaning and value when others want to deny them that right. After many, many months, these five students have finally settled into a high school routine. Even when they were dismissed from one vocational school or high school after another, or they chose to repeat an entire grade because their new school system lacked a more challenging curriculum, they continue exude optimism, maturity, strength and humor. I see these great qualities in them already, and I have only known them for a few weeks!

In the moments I feel like I can't possibly know what I am doing with these students, their conversation brings me back into the moment and washes away my doubt; they are full of questions, observations and light. Last Friday, one of the girls chose to share the word "mellifluous" from her Language Journal which I have assigned to them. Mellifluous! I did my best smooth scat impression to help her define the word (as in "The jazz singer had a mellifluous voice") only after I secretly looked it up first myself. Each Friday afternoon, I learn a lot in the three hours that fly by so quickly.  We always have more to discuss and to learn from each other. I am lucky and thrilled to be connected with the Dandelion School and these exceptional students in a small way. I hope to continue to share my stories and experiences with you for as long as I am in Beijing.

If you want to learn more about migrant school children, there is a lot of information on the world wide web about the subject. Click on this link to hear more about the Dandelion School itself in an NPR story from 2009.

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...

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. 

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.

Don't try this at home without adult supervision

I am not a baker. But plop me down in a country, in a city, in an apartment, in a kitchen where I am without an oven, and I will find a way to be Betty Crocker, if only for a few thrilling, almost 350-degree, warming moments.

It all started with a visit to the Hotel Equipment Corporation last rainy Sunday afternoon.  The giant four-floor warehouse 30 minutes from our apartment is home to professional grade cooks' tools and equipment, including three-foot whisks, more bakeware than Chuck Williams could shake a wooden spoon at, butane torches for the perfect crust on your creme brulee, the dozens of custard dishes to go with them, and of course not-your-mama's industrial sized rice cookers. So what do people without an oven or even a microwave do when they visit the HEC on a rainy, foggy day? They buy baking equipment, of course!

Well, we bought what equipment we thought we could turn into bakeware: the Chinese steamer. Instead of the bamboo variety, of which the HEC had hundreds, we purchased a metal steamer and matching lid (good idea, Z). We also purchased tinfoil cups two inches in diameter, a whisk, a silicone spatula, parchment paper and other items that have no immediate use for this baking experiment (i.e. citrus grater, two chartreuse bowls, signs that read in Mandarin cooked and uncooked because they'll be cute for the kitchen back home when we return, a tiny pitcher for soy sauce, a martini shaker and a nut cracker). So...Can you smell what I created just moments ago? I made with my two hands (with a little help from brownie mix I found at April Gourmet) delicious, chewy, chocolatey, satisfying brownies. Sans oven. Take that! Here's how I did it, and so can you:

First, preheat the metal steamer over the electric burner. While the retro-fitted oven device is warming on the highest setting - "9" -  grease tinfoil cups and stir together brownie mix with the appropriate accoutrement.

Fill greased tinfoil cups with brownie mix. You can lick the spoon because doing that reminds you
of being home and forgetting about any potential salmonella poisoning.
Also, there's only two of you to eat these brownies, so Germs, Shmerms.

After some trial and error, lower the heat to "7" and remove the center brownies altogether.
Even though you burned the center brownies the first go-around, you're still beaming with pride. It's really working!
Now, put the lid back on! You're losing heat!

After about 12-14 minutes you've got actual brownies.
This is more satisfying than when you were baking cookies with a light bulb a la Easy Bake Oven style.

You forget to add the M&Ms your mom and dad sent, so you sprinkle a few on top at the last minute.
The brownies are still warm, so the candies melt to perfection.

The milk can wait. 

I'm not saying these are county fair, prize winning brownies. I'm not going to start a business, and I certainly can't escalate to this status. But I bet these brownies, brownies made with love and patience and ingenuity this very afternoon, are some of the few, if only, homemade brownies within a seven mile radius.

Even as I write this, the baked goodness still wafts from the tiny kitchen and fills the apartment.

What a bargain!

Today, I ventured out on my bicycle (her name is GiGi, by the way) to the Yashow Market. It's another shopping mecca where crowds of tourists and maybe some Beijingers go to do some bargaining and to perfect their skills in patience. I knew about the Yashow Market because of the best travel book I have ever owned -- the Insider's Guide to Beijing. Thanks to a friend from my former life as an employed person, she let me borrow her 2008 version of the book, which I studied and used religiously until we found The Bookworm Beijing (also listed in the guide) and then we bought the updated copy. The Insider's Guides are the best series of travel books for learning about Beijing's everyday. We use the book to point us in the right direction, and it hasn't steered us wrong. We have tried many a restaurant and rarely have been disappointed. (remember that Mexican place we should have avoided, but didn't? Big fat "told you so" from the guidebook).  We have found bicycle shops, banks, bakeries, bars, Beijing duck and so much more from the book alone. And that's just in the "B" section! So, with book in hand, I discovered where I might find a good (cheap!) manicure. As you can see, I got myself that manicure, and I met "Katy" who taught me a few new Mandarin words, like "housewife," thanks, Katy, and "no matter." I will probably go back to her because she was pleasant and she talked to me in Chinese and English.

Then I wondered around the market, letting my nails dry before I hopped back on my bike towards home. I came upon one stall that caught my attention I bargained for this beauty all by myself (sorry, I just can't help it with the alliteration today!)! I asked how much, and then after the vendor told me the price, I perused more bags, you know, acting all cool and uninterested. When I checked out the bag again, I asked for a much lower price and we haggled back and forth from there. In Mandarin! (Don't get too excited - he spoke some English with me, and I used as much Chinese as I possibly could.) I got the price down to half; this is where Z would say I could have gotten it much lower, but that's the price of bargaining. So, here it is. My first purchase: a knockoff nylon bag in bright orange with an embroidered city scene. It came in many colors, but I love the orange-ness of it all for the fall.

*Bag is pictured backwards because I used PhotoBooth to take the picture

That's Mandarin!

Here's the thing that I am beginning to understand about myself in Beijing. I need something or someone to push me along; to set me on the course; to kick my butt into gear, but with respect, please.  I know, you're thinking, I knew that about you at least five blog posts ago. But, Beijing is a major, massive city, unlike any in which I have lived or visited. Yet, there exist tiny pockets of familiarity between the hutongs and the traffic circles. My internal struggle lies between cozying up to the status quo on my couch each day and motivating myself to try the new and unexplored on my own. Ah! See! Beijing and I are alike in this way -- we are constantly balancing the old and safe and comfortable with the new, the sometimes scary and the always exciting. OK. So Beijing is doing it on a much, much grander scale. I'll try to keep some perspective as I search for motivation and confidence.

When we first arrived - I'm talking about when we stepped off the plane at 1:00 in the afternoon, struggling with our luggage all the way, finding myself in a cab all by myself to who knows where - I was a bit disappointed with the view. In fact, I was a bit disappointed the first week we were here. It might be because we had to roll up our sleeves and start searching right away for a place to live. There was no soft introduction to Beijing city living. But I wanted to know,  Where were the fragrant cherry blossoms? The ladies fan dancing on the corner with their hair all done up? When could I schedule my first, second, third spa appointment I heard so much about before we departed? Where were the early morning tai chi students? Where were the happy children playing in parks with their doting and wise grandparents? The old men enjoying the end of summer nights playing card games and drinking beers? Where were the gilded gates and historic temples? Where were the red lanterns and festival lights? I saw only smog and dirt. I saw high rise apartments all around me that looked as if they haven't had a good scrubbing in decades. Inside some of those same buildings and courtyards, and felt crushed by what I could see only as lonely, cramped, smokey darkness. I felt like I was being suffocated by too many of the wrong kinds of choices, and Z and I were trapping ourselves into those little tight decision boxes. And then we switched gears, and made some elbow room for ourselves, and we built new boxes. We talked about what we wanted, and what we didn't want, instead of just going through the motions like starved zombies. We stopped worrying about what the landlords and real estate agents must think of us and whether we were wasting anyone's time. So, of course you know, we found an apartment and the stuff to put inside that place to call it home. But as much as we are paying to live here, and as much as I like my new couch and chairs, it's not enough to say you lived in China if you only sat inside all day...after day...after day.

And then I switched gears, again. I started to see all the tiny details that form the greater parts of Beijing. That is when I started enjoying my time here -- visiting the parks and temples, the family restaurant around the corner and the shopping markets. What's more important right now, is that I am starting to do it on my own. There is a bustling, bright food market just steps away from our front door. The seafood vendor sells live shrimp jumping up by the handful; patrons ride away with fresh green cabbages and long brown earthy taro roots hanging from their bicycle baskets; mangosteen fruits and kiwis are sold by the dozens. The market's sea of stalls and vendors are set up every morning, and after only a few hours, the entire place is wiped out like it never existed.

I started to see all the tiny details that form the greater parts of this city because I stopped worrying about what and how I thought Beijing and China were supposed to look and feel. If you have never been here, forget any pre-conceived notions you may have about Beijing. Forget about the crowding, the traffic, the noise and the smog. Also, forget about the romantic notions you have about Asia in general. All those things will slip into the background when you start to recognize how the little details are more important, more exciting, more worthy of your time.

There are surprises on every block in this city. There is also construction on every block. Somewhere in the middle of the Old Beijing and the New Beijing you can find anything, I'm convinced. So now I see that cherry blossoms don't come out until April; the card games in my neighborhood start around 7:00 PM and last all through the night if you can handle the drinking; tai chi is practiced much earlier than I allow myself to rise from my slumber these days; the fan dancing takes place on cool nights, groups of adults magically appearing outside this or that random restaurant while I'm inside dining; and there's a gilded gate that leads right to my apartment.

I signed up for yoga classes and I took my first Mandarin language class today, too. Man, a little bit of self confidence goes a long way.

Man Mao

There are a few larger than life "must see" destinations across the Northern Hemisphere I have been privileged to visit as a tourist, a student, or now as the tag-a-long-spouse.  And despite all the trappings of commercialization and ubiquitous souvenirs associated with most tourist destinations -- shot glasses, postcards, t-shirts, hats, watches with face dials displaying pictures of Chairman Mao --  I think it's better to have experienced these places, and some of their trinkets, than not at all. I won't be heartbroken if in my travels I happen to miss the World's Largest Cheese-filled Floating Log; I would have been disappointed, however, if I never saw the Eiffel Tower when I was in Paris for the weekend, or if I ignored Big Ben and the Tower of London when I was a grad student, or even if I decided not to climb the 354 stairs to the top of the Statue of Liberty's crown when I was 12 years old. How could I have come home from an Arizona trip visiting a friend without having gone to the Grand Canyon? What's a honeymoon in Greece without elbowing your way through the crowd to the top of the Acropolis? 

Why the serious face?
'Cause Mao was a serious man.

And then there is Beijing's Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City. I know what you're thinking..."Do I have to see yet another picture of someone standing in front of the Forbidden City with Mao in the background?" Ugh! The answer is "Definitely. Yes!" 

Which one is keeping guard?

Take a rest; show some pride OR Show some pride; take a rest

We made our way to the man, the myth, the legend, two weekends ago (and I am just telling you about it now, yes). It's the sheer size of it all that makes the location impressive. There is a four (?) lane highway that separates the Square from the City (we're on a last name basis), and there is a massive underpass that allows pedestrian traffic to cross from one side to the other. It was a blue sky kind of day when we were there, and by midday the Square was filled with buzzing activity in preparation for the current National Day week long holiday. Intricately designed flower beds and sculptures were being pruned, and two massive screens obstructing the open view of the Square displayed the proud accomplishments of culturally and artistically inclined like-minded Chinese citizens.

Two Screens; One Square; Many Red Flags

After I absorbed my history lesson from Z about the Square, we crossed under and up over to reach the Forbidden City. (We interrupt this blog for a word from our sponsors: The Please Visit Us campaign says, "Act Now! History lessons by Z come free with any visit!") There is nothing quite like the six century old complex that makes up the Forbidden City. There more rooms (8,707), more palaces, building and temples (980), more gilded objects (lots), and many, many more dragons (it's got to be in the tens of thousands) than I can imagine there being anywhere else in the world.  If you would like a quick tutorial about the Forbidden City, I suggest you click here. If you would prefer to amuse yourself with pictures instead, I suggest you continue with this posting by perusing a few of my snapshots of the iconic historical site. Perhaps if you are reading this with a friend, you can take turns educating yourself aloud about the Forbidden City while perusing my pictures simultaneously. 

Reeelhhax. It's the Hall of Supreme Harmony

Look at that view!

Inspiration for a future tattoo? (just kidding, Ma!)

Qianlong Emperor's throne inside the Hall of Supreme Harmony

At the top of the Large Stone Carving weighing more than 200 tons 

Chinese lions don't mess around

Inside the Imperial Garden

p.s. This also happened that day

Even the people in the background are shocked. She asked me to take a picture together, and I awkwardly accepted.
Z snapped this moment so I wouldn't forget my first loawai moment.