Chinese Compassion

The following letter was published in the Iowa Source soon after September 11, 2002:

For the last year and a half my husband Tim has been doing work for a Fairfield based company in southern China. I have spent several months visiting him and had the good fortune to see a bit this great country. I have long admired the Chinese sense of style and color. My hand mixed paints for our former house were even based on classic Chinese paintings. This wonderful mysterious place that only lived in my imagination has been replaced by an even more wonderful mysterious place now complete with faces and friends! Friends in the US have asked what the Chinese people's attitude is towards the US tragedy of September 11, and I would like to share what I have heard and experienced with you.

The Hong Kong news reported the Chinese government expressing great sadness, outrage, and extended condolences to the American people. Many, many bouquets and wreaths of flowers were taken to the US consulate in Hong Kong by Chinese people. Several Hong Kong churches held prayer meetings. In the Hong Kong Scottish country dance newsletter condolences were expressed on the front page. Here in mainland China, I notice people's responses to me are either more silent, respectful and observant or more openly friendly. Security has been increased and we now see armed guards at the ferry terminal that goes over to Hong Kong. When Hong Kongers on the street were interviewed, many expressed sadness for the recent US tragedy. But then some people have been quoted as saying they thought they thought the US was imperialist. I had to look up the word to figure out what they meant. Once I read the meaning of the word I could see their point. I read in the South China Morning Post that a high ranking person in the Chinese military said that China was supporting the US anti-terrorist campaign for economic reasons. This person said that they saw the US as a long term enemy of China. As you can imagine I found this a bit chilling. It is not like I can blend in around here if the going gets tough. But then I got to thinking and realized that yes, every country has these sticky histories with many other countries. Everyone has their own personal reasons for banding together at this time, but we are banding together and that seems to be, in my view, one of the most important positive outcomes of this tragedy. Overall I feel quite safe here. Given all the unknowns of our future, I plan to stay here and come home when Tim returns. It is good to be together right now and I don't want to travel separately.

Two days after the September 11 tragedy I had an experience that made me realize how lucky I am to be alive and to be here in China. I was still in shock from hearing the events from home, but feeling quite steady and looking forward to getting a massage. I had Tim's translator Ben call ahead and reserve one of my favorite masseuses, Ah Peen. That is my phonetic spelling of her name. She is a teeny, tiny, delicate and beautiful woman who is about 20 years old, strong as an ox and as intuitive a masseuse as I can imagine. Ah Peen also has some of the most interesting pronunciations of my name; Nobbie, Dobbie, or almost anything that is two syllables and ends with an "E" sound. She always greets me with a big smile and her latest rendition of my name. I have learned to respond to a wide variety of sounds. In turn, I give her a smile and my latest rendition of her name.

The Chinese massages here start with the head and face. When done well, it seems to erase fatigue and strain I didn't even realize I had. That day in particular it felt so wonderful, but I think, due to her expertise and her strong nurturing energy, the floodgates of my emotions broke open. Tears started to flow and I was engulfed in grief. I was embarrassed but felt helpless to stop the flow.

She first thought my response was due to the massage, and started saying "solly, solly", her pronunciation of sorry. Since we are limited in our ability to communicate with each other, all I could think to say was "It's OK, it's OK". Finally she came around and looked me right in the eye and started stroking my arm. She started talking to me, talking to me as if I could understand what she wanted to tell me. She asked questions and I couldn't understand and was finally able to remember enough Chinese to tell her so. She didn't give up. She slowed down her speech and finally I heard her ask if I was American and I said yes. The compassion from her was as impressive as her massages and she said some very soothing words that went far beyond the level of language. Then she said something fairly fiery about the incident that I could tell was not pointed at America. I cried on and off during the massage, and she murmured little bits of comforting sounds. During it I lay there wondering if the US goes to war would my ability to communicate in Chinese become more pressing, when would I be able to go home, what do the rest of the Chinese people think about this incident and will we be welcome and safe here. A wind blew around in my head and a gaping hole ached in my solar plexus.

Ah Peen hung in there with me and knew all the right points to go for. She seemed to be able to tell when a wave of emotion was coming up and would go for points that would release everything and I would settle down again. At the end of the massage I called a translator and had him express my appreciation. Her response was that she wanted to help more, and was sorry she couldn't communicate more freely.

During the massage, I again began to wonder about many things, as I am sure we all have over the last couple weeks. A major one is what am I doing with my life and how can I make best use of my time here. Another is, what do I have that can begin to be of true value and comfort to others. I realized we all have so much to learn from each other and if I was somehow not able to get home, I could easily come out the better for it. The East and the West have so much to learn from each other. I heard from a close friend this morning and she stated how this was our chance to show the world and universe what we were really about, who we really are -- for better or for worse. Everyone is watching and waiting to see what and how the US will respond to this incident. The Chinese name for the US translates as 'beautiful country' and we are in a sense the beautiful people. I pray we can take actions that live up to that title. Take care and stay safe. Love to you all.

Running Errands On The Moon

Fall 2001

It has just been in the last two days that I have been starting to feel like myself again. In coming out of my daze from the September 11 events, I started to realize not only that I could no longer ignore the dust that was rolling around under the sofa but that the excellent camouflaging quality of this gray granite flooring in the kitchen and bathroom was not holding up so well. I will spare you any further details, but it felt good to sweep and mop the floors. Of course if you are going to clean the house, why not have people over to enjoy it? So I suggested we invite the five engineers over for pancakes on Sunday morning. One thing lead to another and then I realized I needed more butter and a few other things, so one of my favorite drivers, Lisheng, picked me up and we set off to run errands. As we were driving along, I noticed something new for Tim’s and my records. We have started a list of unusual items we see transported on the back of two wheeled vehicles, like pool tables and propane tanks! This new item was being carried by a woman on a bike. She had a beautiful bamboo cage that was about 3' wide and 3' tall and 2' deep on the back of her bike. The top of the cage came up into a point. It was a beautiful and intriguing shape. It looked empty but I wondered what it was used for. We moved along as usual -- dodging bikes, motorcycles, trucks, and an elderly man on a three wheeled bike that was going perfectly down the center line of the four lane highway. Maybe it was the safest place to be, who knows. One thing I did notice was that all the motorcyclists were wearing helmets. I have observed that the Chinese are very adaptable. With little or no fuss, they access a situation and make whatever changes are needed. After hearing about a certain number of accidents, I figured people had decided it was a good idea to use helmets. I thought, "This is good, the Chinese are more safety conscious now". Famous last words...

We got within a few vehicle lengths of the toll booths, which are set up very much like the ones in the US, except getting into a lane to pay the toll is a much more hair raising event here than at home. All of a sudden Lisheng swerved over across two lanes of traffic into the far right lane and came to an abrupt halt. He turned to me, pulled out a 6" by 6" plastic sheet with blue Chinese characters on it, said some quick thing in Cantonese to me, gave me a quick grin and jumped out of the truck before I could give him my "I don't understand" in Mandarin. My mouth fell open as I watched him run across the meridian and two lanes of traffic and down a little lane towards a building. All I could think was, "Oh no, don't leave me, Lisheng ! And whatever you do, don't get hurt. I can't face driving this thing back on my own!" Since he left the truck running and the hazard blinkers on, I figured he meant for me to stay. I knew without a doubt that I did not want to negotiate two lanes of moving Chinese traffic, so I stayed put. I figured he was probably renewing the seasonal toll pass for the vehicle, but we seemed to be parked in a lane that was meant for traffic! This was more excitement than I felt a couple pounds of butter and some flour should require, but as I looked around, again I noticed the Chinese ability to adapt. The fact we were sitting in a traffic lane didn't seem to faze anyone but me. Cars, trucks, motorcycles and bikes just went around me. All of a sudden it seemed that none of the motorcyclists had helmets on. I knew it -- the Chinese are not more safety conscious after all. After what seemed like a half hour but was probably five minutes he returned with what apparently was a new 6" by 6" plastic sheet with blue Chinese characters on it, gave me another line in Cantonese and another big grin, put his foot to the floor, and we were off.

Our first stop was the home of the Chinese doctor I have been seeing. I ran in with my request written in Chinese characters since the only person I can communicate clearly with here is the doctor's son. He is about three years old and is not bound by any language barriers. He always comes out to show me his latest toy. To the entertainment of all in the room we then have a multi-language chat in Cantonese, English and my bits of Mandarin. Although all Chinese people have been very encouraging as I struggle along with their language, he seems to totally understand and accept my pronunciation of Mandarin. He also loves to say 'bye-bye' in English. Much to our mutual delight, I can easily join him in this. After many visits, I am actually getting to the point that the smell of the Chinese herbs has a soothing effect on me. I welcomed this today and breathed deeply, got my mysterious herbal concoction, and took off for my next stop -- Trustmart!

In Mandarin I asked Lisheng to take me to Trustmart. He looked at me and said "ehhh?" I tried saying it with several different intonations and after a close call with a truck decided that I was distracting him and gave up. I think he was relieved. I know I was. He does not speak much Mandarin, and my theory is that my particular version of Mandarin is about as meaningful as English to him. So, as we approached the turnoff for Trustmart I pointed, he nodded, and we swerved into the parking lot with no further excitement. There is no way I can give you the full experience of Trustmart. But just for fun, imagine a WalMart with blasting music, a sea of people who mostly come up to your chin, and very few food items you can identify or labels you can read. When many people see us they just stop and stare as if we just walked in without a stitch of clothing on. We often have to actually walk around these people as they stand and gawk. As soon as we smile people usually smile back, but they often seem surprised that we have noticed them.

I have gotten to the point that I know where my items are so I can cruise Trustmart about as fast as I can our markets at home in the USA. The main items I get there are butter, flour when they have it, walnuts, dark chocolate, powdered soy milk, lemons, whole wheat bread, and now olive oil. Olive oil is a new item here. There is a long aisle completely devoted to cooking oil in every shape and size of container you can imagine. It is all peanut oil except for this one file that is tucked in the middle. I see many people checking out with 5 gallon containers of peanut oil. I always wonder what do they do with it all. I have had visions of various possible uses for it including but not limited to car engine lubrication and some sort of Chinese oil massage. However from a lot of food I have had in this area, I have a feeling most of it goes into cooking. I check the area that has the spices every time I go but they have not branched out yet. It looks so encouraging when you first approach it. It looks much like the American spice racks in supermarkets only a bit smaller. The display is probably about 9 bottles wide and 6 bottles tall. I was so excited the first time I saw it but I soon discovered there were just 4 items -- black pepper, white pepper, red pepper, and Chinese 5 spice. Below that is the MSG and iodized salt. That is it for spices.

I walk through the produce area that is beautiful and full of every type of fruit and vegetable possible and then the frozen foods which are very interesting. There are lots of frozen dumplings in many interesting shapes but most items I haven't a clue as to what they are. The dairy section is very small as dairy products are not a popular item in the Cantonese diet. They stock some highly processed milk, Kraft cheese slices, margarine, and sugary yogurt. I can't imagine these items winning anyone over to thinking that dairy products are a fun eating experience. But then amidst all this stuff they have really good New Zealand butter. When I go shopping here my basket has few different types of items but several of each of them. People are so curious and as soon as they see me I see necks craning to get a peek into my basket to see what strange things I am getting. They usually comment to each other. I am used to this now and smile and they smile back, obviously entertained at what I have chosen. Sometimes just a smile is enough to break the ice and they come up and look right in my basket. I have not met anyone I can explain my purchases to, but it is an interesting experience. Today a little boy noticed me putting numerous packages of butter into my basket. I went to put in the last cube and almost put it on his head he was so close to me. He looked up at me with an amazed questioning look, so I smiled and said "We like butter!" in a rather animated way to which he giggled and gave me a big smile.

On the way home I took in the beautifully planted fields and saw the woman with the bamboo cage going back the opposite direction, this time with something in the cage that I couldn't identify. Then I looked up and saw a man walking on the electrical wires! I hope they were telephone wires, but I don't know. You know how telephone poles often have wires strung at the top and then another set of wires a bit further down? He was walking on the lower wires and holding onto the higher ones for balance. What could he possibly have been doing?

When I walked into our cozy apartment with my flour, butter, and Chinese herbs I breathed a sigh of relief and amazement. After all these months there were still so many mysterious things! It is as though I am from another planet. I put down my shopping and started to write about this little trip. I looked over at my bags of items that still sat by the door and thought how different my experience would have been had I gotten these items in the US. I wondered, does a foreigner in the US have as many surprises and questions as I do as a foreigner in China? It is like running errands on the moon!

Bug Juice

Winter 2001

Just before I came home from China last November, I went to my Chinese doctor to get medicines for home. Laura, a wonderful English speaking Chinese woman from the factory went with me to translate. The doctor is always kind and attentive, but this time she seemed very relaxed and the three of us laughed and joked as much as you can when two of the three people in a conversation cannot communicate. As the doctor gave my tea prescription to her assistant I noticed him saying something to the doctor while nodding at me. He handed the doctor a sort of popsicle stick sized piece of wood and then the doctor showed this stick to Laura and gave her what was obviously very important information. I focused on the two of them as they spoke, picking up a few words of Chinese; 'I' , 'her', 'don't' , 'a little bit' and that was about it, as usual. Laura then turned to me and told me that in my teas this time there was going to be a poisonous bug. Whoa, did I ever miss the essence of that bit of conversation! She continued that she didn't know the name of this bug, but when it is alive if it bites you, you can die if not treated immediately. The doctor didn't want me to be afraid of it. She paused, waiting for me to respond, so I lied and said 'OK' with the perkiest sort of voice I could muster up. Then I looked down at the stick of wood Laura was holding to show me. A dried 4" long centipede looking insect was neatly laid out on the popsicle stick. My mouth fell open and I felt my eyebrows raise off my forehead. Laura then explained that when the bug is boiled in my tea, the juice of it will be very good for me. Unlike many translations, this particular translation created a very distinct image in my mind that I did not believe for a second. I flashed on those chocolate covered ants and grasshoppers that used to be the rage.

Unlike my dear husband who will try most anything, I don't. In particular, I have never been inclined to eat bugs. And here I was, about to pay for, haul home, and try to sneak through immigration 25 bags of herbs with big, old, dried, poisonous Chinese bugs in them. As I was just coming out of shock and into the humor of it, the doctor passed along another gem. Her timing was impeccable. I was to make sure that I didn't FORGET and eat the bug. Laura was very firm on this, using her hands to emphasize her point which was that if I ate the bug I could get very sick. To drink the juice off it was good, but to eat it was not good at all. I snorted. Not a giggle or laugh, but a snort. A loud snort. The Chinese doctor looked up at me sharply and told Laura that she was very serious and I must not forget and eat the bug, eating it would be like eating poison. Now, you must realize this was all coming at me way too fast...I had moved out of a guarded, responsible space where I am the only American these people have ever interacted with, blah blah blah, into a spontaneous free fall Debbie space. It threw them. I wryly told Laura to assure the doctor that there was no way in hell that I was going to space out and eat a bug. I heard a distant strange laugh that must have come out of me because no one else looked like they were even close to laughing. There was a pause. Everyone was silently looking at me, no doubt wondering what I was going to do next. I noticed then that a cloud of confusion had crossed Laura's face. She did not understand, 'There was no way where? That I was going to do what?' Ummm. I switched gears and told Laura to tell the doctor I understood and would follow her advice. With that out of the way, the atmosphere settled a bit. The assistant went back to bagging up bugs and the doctor went back to counting out my pills, but she was a bit watchful of me. As we were leaving she wished me a happy trip home, which I understood! But then I’m sure I telepathically picked up a crystal clear Chinese thought that she was wondering if she had overlooked something that she should be treating me for.

The Culturalization of Mrs. Tim

Spring 2001

Spring is now in full swing and it is glorious here in southern China. It is about 65 degrees, clear. sunny, and the winds feel warm and fresh. This change in weather has raised my spirits and moved me into another phase of cultualization. I say 'another' and not the 'next', because I am definitely not in 'linear' territory. I say "culturalization" because I seem so spend so much time in a semi-illiterate state of mind, I find myself beginning to create my own new words to describe my new experience. For me the process of culturalization is a bit like moving into a furnished unfamiliar house with alien roommates. Each room tells you more about the inhabitants, how they live their lives, their values. Every detail is another piece of the puzzle. You form likes and dislikes. And over time you find a place in yourself for the place -- and a space in the place for yourself.

In coming to China at first I felt completely open. I observed and absorbed like a sponge everything I could. I ate the food, or at least as much of it as I could recognize as food, I used a wok and tried to blend in as much as was possible for someone at least 10" taller and the opposite coloring. I appreciated all things I observed whether they were the same or different than what I was accustomed to. I admired how the Asian skin looks so fabulous with the lime green and pink that they love so much, how trusting pedestrians are in walking down the middle of the street and how every meeting of more than two Chinese easily becomes a party.

After a while I began to tire of the new and different. I was immersed in unfamiliar territory and had no ground to retreat to and no break from Chinese style anything. I became overwhelmed. Every daily interaction seemed to lead to more judgments. The quaint open plumbing became the damned open sewer, the organic style of driving became the bane of my daily travel, the child like exuberance of the Chinese fireworks that had charmed me, then jaded and irritated me.

It was around this time that homesickness set in and just the sight of Peter Jennings or Dan Rather giving the evening news could bring a tear to my eye. I only drank Earl Grey tea. I ate no rice. I had a deep longing to hear someone besides Tim put a final 'L' on an English word. I feared I would burst out in tears if one more person addressed me as Mrs. Tim or Mrs. Timo, pronounced Teemo, instead of Debbie. Then one day I called Tim and the man that answered the phone actually tried to correct my pronunciation of my own husband's name! I was over the edge and up to my eyebrows with Chinese anything and everything and my reaction was a complete retreat. My Mandarin tapes collected dust and I no longer watched Chinese TV. I dreamed of French toast, Campbell's cream of tomato soup, vanilla milkshakes, and grilled cheese sandwiches made with white squishy Wonder Bread. As far as food was concerned I considered the only option to be western style cooking and my thinking was along the lines of "give me nonstick Teflon fry pans or give me nothing". Any vintage of any western music made my heart sing, including any music I had run from in the past.

My angel directed us to the Dan Ryan Grill. It was a day I wanted to be anywhere but the orient, including my beloved Hong Kong, and then we happened upon this restaurant. It is designed for the desperate westerner that has had one too many pieces of the lifeless Chinese 'cake', bone filled meats, msg to the gills, and just way too many culinary surprises. It was a simple meal that at home you would spend under ten dollars for but in Hong Kong you paid a good $25 USD or more for. I personally considered it medication, for the homesick. And from the looks of the crowd in the place the day we were there, price was not as issue... the only issues were did things like, did they have ice cream for the hot apple pie, was the ketchup the real thing and not some sweet sour version, and were the french fries fried in some neutral oil or peanut oil. Everything was perfect. I could have kissed the feet of that wealthy restaurant owner. You actually felt like you were in a nice, downtown Chicago grill; right down to the way the tables were set with American salt and pepper shakers (as opposed to the Chinese kind where you can't tell one from the other), menus in English (so empowering after the experience of total illiteracy with Chinese menus) big heavy flatware (not a chopstick in sight). The waitresses spoke very clear English, the music was American being played at a moderate level. The bliss I experienced was something that I would not have understood in my pre-China days.

Some time went by and then the realization hit me one morning when I was checking e-mail and overheard a conversation between two men. I enjoyed hearing the sounds they made and I realized I had a good idea what they were talking about. I hauled out the wok and my language tapes soon after that and started exploring again. I felt comfortable and more relaxed. I turned on the TV and enjoyed the Mandarin and Cantonese accents. I still have questions as to whether or not I am actually programmed with the ability to produce some of these Mandarin sounds, but that is another phase further along in the culturization of Mrs. Tim.

Tell Us A Story

Spring 2001

It was Friday night at the office around 8:30. Tim had just run off to some meeting and Fred and Ben, two wonderful Chinese friends and I chatted as we waited for Tim to return. Fred told us a story he had read in the Guangzhou newspaper. It was an American's impressions of Chinese restaurants. He told with glee how the American went on and on about how noisy Chinese restaurants were and how a UFO from outer space would be able to detect the location of any Chinese restaurant from quite a ways off just by the high noise level. I wish I had a recording of Fred telling this story which was interspersed with his irrepressible giggles. I was laughing to the point of tears, partly at the story and partly due to his storytelling style. Although the Chinese seem to be very social and fun loving, laughing with quite as much exuberance as I was displaying does not seem to be so much their style. Both men were doing these funny little giggles, partly at the story and partly, I am certain, at my reaction to the story. I commented that I had also been struck with how deafening most of the restaurant were. They beamed with pride. I was confused but did not comment or question their response. We talked about the local restaurants and Fred said that if you want to have a nice meal and take time to visit with a friend you go to McDonald's, pronounced Mahdono's, which I find very charming. The 'C' and 'L' sounds are very difficult sounds for the native Chinese speaker. I told them how it was just the opposite in the US. You only went to a fast food place if it was a fast eating experience you wanted. Then there was a pause in the conversation and both men looked at me expectantly and I knew what these 30 year old men must have looked like at age seven or so. It was a very sweet moment.

Then Fred asked something in a hushed but excited tone of voice. I was so distracted by the change in his voice that I completely missed the content of what he had said. I hadn't a clue. I was embarrassed, but saw no alternative other than asking him to repeat himself, to which he said, "Tell us a story". I felt like I was about to tell a bedtime story to two little boys. I did a quick mental flip through the many e-mail stories and decided on my first Chinese restaurant experience. So, imagine listening to a foreigner talking about something that is as mundane as McDonald's to you, but as foreign as the moon to them. If I could have a video of their faces during the recounting of this story I am certain it could win first prize from one of those American home video shows.

When I first arrived in China I felt like I was in a bit of a dream. I felt good, but there is a 13 hour time difference which takes a while to adjust to. On my second night here Tim and I got invited to go out to eat with two friendly Chinese women, Winnie and Janet, who took us to a Southern Chinese style seafood restaurant. I was excited to experience China in every way I could. I like Chinese food and I like seafood, and this was FRESH seafood! I just didn't realize how fresh it was really going to be. I was feeling awake when we left to drive to the restaurant, but due to jet lag soon fell quite deeply asleep. I awoke about 45 minutes later to bright lights, dirty white ceramic tile, and lots of chrome. I was a bit groggy, but hungry and looking forward to the experience.

As we entered I immediately noticed the odors were not those of a restaurant at all, but a pet store. At this point I took a moment to explain 'pet store' to my audience. I was puzzled when I was steered not to a table, but to a long row of aquariums that had a wide variety of water creatures in them. Some I recognized as fish, shrimp, and lobster. But some I had no idea what they were or which end was coming or going. I asked Tim what a pet shop was doing in a restaurant. He clarified the inhabitants' destinies were to be on our plates and I woke up a bit more. Winnie and Janet were excited and almost shouting, as is the speaking style of many here. They were completely in their glory ordering the deaths of this and that creature. They were obviously excited to show us a good time with their finest local cuisine. I on the other hand was putting the brakes on my embracing of the Chinese cultural experience and all I could think was how God had to help me get real clear that I wanted only shrimp and lobster. No unidentifiable sea nothing -- period. Tim, who by that time had willingly eaten eel, donkey, and something else I have blocked out of my memory forever, was right in there with these women, oohing and ahhing. What is this, what is that, how to they cook it -- and casually told our hosts my requests as we proceeded on down the line of tanks.

A groggy state of mind is not a state in which one should contemplate their first Chinese meal and my illusion of mainland China Chinese food being the same as any American Chinese food I had ever had was fading at an alarming rate. I had to get a grip. I decided I would do best to go on ahead and basically pretend I was at Sea World and not a restaurant so I turned down the last aisle of tanks. That plan was foiled immediately as I met up with two large barrels full of water that had tons of quarter size water bugs swarming on the surface. As Janet walked up I turned and made the mistake of asking what fish bait was doing in the restaurant. She said they were a delicacy and were prepared by frying in peanut oil -- and did I want some. All I could utter was a weak sounding 'oh no'. I turned around in an effort to block them out of my memory and came face to face with another aspect of Chinese cuisine. A dozen or so scrawny, marinated until they were black, birds complete with feet and heads hung on a cord as if they were clean laundry put out to dry. There was no escape...

By this point in my story Fred and Ben had lost all of their normal composure and were howling and muttering little bits of Mandarin to themselves and each other. I paused and asked if they were OK and wanted me to continue or was it too much for them. This almost put them on the floor. Oh yes, I must continue they insisted. They were so easy to entertain. So I continued to tell them how we were finally seated at the standard Chinese table; a round table with a lazy Susan built into the center of it. This was a table designed by people who love to eat, share their food and visit. I like all these things too, but sharing their food was to be a challenge. Even looking at some of their food was a challenge. A waitress took orders for drinks. Sprite was on the menu which was all in Chinese characters. I bet I hadn't had a Sprite in 10 years, but it sounded safe, secure, a gift from God. I ordered a large glass. A can and a glass arrived, the usual in China, which I have come to realize is a good thing. You want to know where everything comes from. Your liquids and your dishes. You only drink water out of sealed bottles and before you eat you rinse your dishes and chopsticks with some hot tea. The restaurants provide waste bowls for this routine done by all. But this was before I knew all this so I just poured some Sprite in the glass, took a big drink, and felt a sense of ease spread throughout my whole being. The power of the familiar can be a wonderful thing. Soon the food started to arrive, dish by dish, with a few moments in between. Over time I have come to enjoy this style of presentation. I like being given a chance to admire each dish and look forward to the next one. In actuality, it may just be that they bring out different dishes whenever they are ready, but I prefer to believe the first scenario. But that first evening I used those few moments in between each dish's arrival to regroup and brace myself for the next dish. First the shrimp arrived. Not cleaned headless American shrimp, but Chinese shrimp with everything still intact. Did you know the eyes go black when they are boiled? Gruesome looking, I told Ben and Fred at this point, to which they nodded and laughed like school boys. Then came some of those poor little birds I had come nose to nose with. I was told they were pigeons, but they were not the American big city plumb variety, but the low fat Chinese variety. And then came some noodles and vegetables that I decided was going to be what I kept my vision locked onto for the rest of the evening. But then I got distracted when the chicken arrived and was placed in front of me. The head faced me, which is an honor in the Chinese culture, but the honor was wasted on this foreign idiot. Tim said I literally went green and as he and I simultaneously went to turn the lazy Susan and move the honor on to someone else, my glass of Sprite overturned into my lap. My stomach was on the defensive and I prayed to all the gods I could think of to keep it from emptying its contents at that very moment. By this time Ben and Fred were holding their sides as if in pain and laughing with tears in their eyes. I had to pause as I was laughing at their reaction to my tale. After we all regained a bit of composure I proceeded.

After seeing the shrimp with those black eyes any appetite for shrimp had immediately been extinguished. Winnie was not aware of my change in plans however, and proceeded to give me a lesson in how to prepare them for eating. First, she told me, you first pull the head off like this. And she made sure she had my full attention as she demonstrated. And then the many legs -- I had never pulled the head or legs off of anything besides Mr. Potatoehead, and by that point felt as if I was starting to hallucinate. I remember how strange my laugh sounded, and there was this light feeling in my head. After the full demonstration she gave me a piece of partially cooked chicken and took the feet for herself. Chicken feet are a delicacy. Another Chinese delicacy that I will never know the taste of. I did not watch how she ate them. Mercifully, any peripheral vision I had was totally blocked for the time. My tunnel vision went back to the vegetables and noodles, which, I must add, were very good. One of the vegetables was very young bamboo. Sort of like that baby corn you see in American Chinese food, only bamboo. It was tender and sweet and cooked in coconut milk and spices. The mushrooms melted in my mouth and had a beautiful soy based sauce on them. The noodles were simple, but looked hand made, were not too hot and felt soothing. There was way too much peanut oil and the spicing was a bit strange to me, but that is just part of southern Chinese cooking. Since then I have become accustomed to seeing chicken heads on the table and can pull the heads and feet off of the shrimp and I have even tried a tiny bit of pigeon and eel, but that is my limit. No water bugs, no chicken feet, no half cooked chicken, no snake, no turtle, no thank you.

Fred and Mary's Engagement Party

Winter 2001

Last night Tim and I went to Fred and Mary's engagement dinner. It was at a restaurant just across the road from the development where Tim and I live, so we walked over. We hugged the edge of the road while people honked and whistled by. Fred and Mary met us in front of the restaurant and escorted us upstairs to a private room where my all time favorite karaoke singer, Ray, was at work creating his own unique form of entertainment. The volume was truly amazing with four large speakers mounted on same the wall as the TV. Ray has the stage presence of a Sinatra. He flips the mike cord out of the way with his foot like an old pro. I am in awe. I am equally in awe of his amazingly consistent sense of pitch which is always a significant amount lower than the music on the tape. Ray needs to be introduced to lip-syncing, or maybe not...

Everyone then greeted us and most of them had some little bit of English to greet us with. It was very sweet. Most I had never heard speak a single word of English. I was touched at their efforts to include us and make us feel at home. As the next karaoke singer began, I found my digital camera and started clicking away. People started crowing around so I showed how you could instantly see your and the crowd went wild. Forget the wedding couple, this was a chance for everyone to pose together for all of posterity. Items such as this camera are very good at bridging the language barrier. However, this evening, with the volume being what it was, I got the sense we understood as much of what was being said as anyone else. Smile, laugh at whatever, and you are in. Soon dinner started to be served and the volume went down a wee bit on the TV. First a soup pot was brought out and 12 small bowls of soup were placed on the large lazy susan in the center of the table. Over time, dish by dish of food came out; one delicious course after another. I looked around at all these kind people and felt thankful for having met them and for their friendship. It all seemed to flow just the way it should. It actually sort of felt like home.

My First Day At School

Spring 2002

Today I visited a local Chinese middle school. I asked Ben, Tim's translator to call the school and ask if they would like an American volunteer to help kids with English pronunciation. They accepted my offer, asked me to give a little talk, and said they would send a car to pick me up at 2:30. I prepared a little show-and-tell that included a map of the world, some US currency, a couple US magazines, and some English and herbal teas. At 1:45 I got a call saying they were on their way. Things do not run early in China in general, so I had a feeling this was considered a big event. A van met me with 7 of their staff of 20 English teachers. They were all beaming and thank goodness all spoke quite clear English so it was easy to converse. I introduced myself to the woman beside me and she introduced herself to me. I repeated her name which was 3 words, surname first and then a two word given name. She complimented my pronunciation. I thanked her and then said that I would also have to apologize now because I knew the chances of me remembering her name were slim. They found this very amusing and then Ben suggested that they give me their English names. I agreed this would make it much easier and they seemed happy to use them. The three-syllable-named woman became Sally and there was a Silvia, a Tracy, a Shirley, and some other very American names. Then the department head said his Chinese name and they all giggled. One of the women said his name was the color yellow in Chinese so I could call him Mr. Yellow.

When we got to the school I was very impressed and said so. It was enormous and well designed. They have about 2000 students from age 13 through 19. There were several three story high buildings that were all linked together by open air hallways. Some of the hallways formed courtyards that had attractive plantings in them. As we walked up to the building I felt a flurry of butterflies in my stomach. What was this all about? I came to help out with English but what were their plans? We walked by many classes of students reciting Chinese and English in unison, and some quiet classes of kids studying. There averaged about 40 kids to a class. The school had a very good feel to it. It felt much more open and friendly and yet also much more focused than my memories of junior high and high school. I relaxed and enjoyed every minute of the tour. In every stairwell was a piece of classic Chinese brush and ink painting. They were beautiful pieces that reminded me of a book I was very fond of in my undergraduate days. They showed me the library and study rooms, language labs, and computer labs. It was enormous and quite spacious. I don't know what I expected, but I was very impressed.

We went back to a conference room where they had a long oval table and this was when I realized what a big deal my visit was. This was not just about helping with English pronunciation as far as they were concerned. They had many kinds of fruit in baskets and bottles of water all around the table. If you ever notice on the news when there is a conference in China, this is the set up that is used to welcome important guests. We all sat and they spoke for a few minutes in Chinese and then Tracy turned to me and proposed that I come back again on Friday afternoon and meet with a few students and teachers. I said I would be happy to do that. Then they suggested I speak to a class of students and then meet with all the English teachers. On our way to the class of 13-year-olds, Sally told me that this was going to be a big surprise for the students. When we approached, some of them saw me through the windows that opened out onto the open air hallway. Their looks of amazement truly stunned me. Sometimes I forget how unusual I look here. Sally introduced me as Miss Debbie and they all beamed and applauded. I first introduced myself and told them I was American and then asked if they could understand me. Only one girl said yes, but I could tell from their expressions that they could, so I continued as slowly as I could. I gave them my show-and-tell, telling about the similarities and then the differences that I had observed between the two countries. I pointed out on a map where we were and where I was from and got a soft, sustained 'whaaaa' from the group. I told them how it takes 16 hours nonstop in a jet and I knew their minds were reeling. Mouths fell open. I compared our Iowa weather to Beijing weather and how the town I live in is about the same size as their village. I talked about food similarities and differences and how Chinese food is the most popular foreign style food in the US. I showed them some US currency and American magazines. I explained how America is made up of people from all over the world, and that this was one of the things that made it a wonderful place to live. I talked about my impressions of the Chinese people. I told them I found the Chinese people to be very friendly, warm, and welcoming people. At this point I felt a wave of gratitude from these kids that just about knocked me over. Any more would have brought tears to my eyes. I had to stop speaking for a couple seconds. Then I added that I liked the Chinese very much and thought they were very good people. I have never seen so many attentive, clear kids in my life.

When I finished my presentation, Sally told them I would come back and meet with them on Friday. As she was speaking she accidentally referred to me as 'he'. In Mandarin, the official language of China, the word for 'he' or 'she' does not specify gender and to confuse this is a very common mistake that is made even by very good Chinese translators. I was impressed to notice that the class caught this mistake immediately. As Sally corrected herself, the kids giggled a bit at her mistake, looking from her to me, to see what my reaction would be.

Later a teacher asked me what I thought of the class. I commented that they were very focused and bright looking students. She said that in general, the classes were like that, but also I was the first foreigner many of them had ever seen and that they were very interested and curious. This was no surprise. When I asked the class if anyone had any questions, I could feel that they had a million, but were too shy to ask. I tried to encourage them by saying to please not be shy and that I was sure their English was much, much better than my Chinese. This brought big smiles and giggles from the group, but they were still too shy to ask anything. Finally one boy stood up and said he was very glad I came. I thanked him and told him I enjoyed it very much. As the teachers were escorting me out, I turned and waved and said good-bye in Mandarin and that totally broke the ice. If I had stayed I am sure the questions would have rolled in like a tidal wave.

When we got back to the conference room, 20 or so teachers were sitting around the table waiting for me. They all nodded and smiled greetings to me and then there was another round of applause. They asked me to speak a bit about myself. I basically gave them a more in-depth version of what I said to the kids and then asked if they had any questions. Again there was the same curious, but shy quality I had seen in the kids, but soon a few started a conversation. They were very interested in setting up communication with an American school or American students. They even expressed interest in an exchange of students. I said I thought it was a great idea, and that I would try to organize something when I returned home. We briefly touched on Chinese-American relations when one of the teachers commented that Bush had been in Shanghai. I commented that I had followed the visit on the news. He continued that the countries were coordinating efforts and I said I thought it was very good that we were thinking and working together. There was almost a nod in unison from most of the teachers. I felt like an American diplomat and felt a responsibility to speak in a very clear, conscious way. I have not experienced this to this degree before. It is a very interesting experience to be 'the' American. I did not feel pressure from them, but being the only American here, it can't be helped that many of their ideas about the US may be based on the responses I come up with. Oh dear...

They asked if I spoke any Chinese and I entertained them briefly with my rendition of Mandarin. We finally worked our way down to movie stars, who were my favorites, did I like to shop for clothing, things I don't really think about. I told them I designed and made much of my clothing. They asked me to bring some photos of my designs from home. Around this time a photographer came in and took many photos of me talking to the group. My guess is that I will be in the local paper. I just wanted to help with English language classes! They pursued the movie start thing more and Jackie Chan was mentioned and I said he was very popular in the US and that I liked him very much. They seemed surprised that he was popular. They asked if I liked Tom Cruise, I said I preferred Al Pucino, who they did not know. Several of the teachers wondered if I had seen other parts of China yet and I said that my husband had been so busy with work that unfortunately we hadn't had the time. They made suggestions as to what I should see and then Tracy said I should go ahead without him and take me with her. Then a man said no, I should take him with me. They asked if I liked Chinese music and I said I liked Chinese classical music very much. This met with good reception and then a man asked if I liked to dance. I said yes and told them how Tim and I go into Hong Kong to do folk dancing with a predominately Scottish and British group. He suggested that I dance with the people there. I found this an interesting thought. Finally I left and was escorted out to the hall. Both Sally and Tracy gave me their phone numbers and suggested we get together when I return and I agreed that it would be lovely. As Tracy and I walked to the car, she told me about the beads she was wearing as a bracelet and then gave them to me as a gift.

There are certain qualities that I have witnessed in the Chinese people that I admire very much and my experience at this school helped solidify many impressions. There is a certain elegant, graceful, simplicity towards life and others that runs deep in the culture. I saw this in the peasant/worker level of society and was charmed by it. But when I saw it in the highly educated and business levels of society, I was in total awe. Tim and I went to one of the two biggest trade shows in China last weekend. It had 17 miles of aisles and I have no idea how many manufacturers were represented. I cruised 6 floors of one building that was only Chinese fabric manufacturers. Large amounts of fabric usually have the effect of inspiring me, but this quantity was totally overwhelming. I met with different fabric and garment manufacturers to explore getting some of my designs reproduced. Obviously from my questions I was new at this. I obviously was also not going to be a big sale. Still, people sat and attentively answered all my questions and made suggestions as if I was the most important person in the world. There was no pressure from their side, and there was a simple, pleasant quality about them that was very genuine. All of the people I spoke with I felt I would like to know better, just as individuals. I felt their approach was the ultimate sales technique. Who wouldn't want to do business with people like this! I was very impressed and felt so grateful.

While wandering the show we saw the most westerners we have seen the entire time we have been here. People from all over the world, all with their trusty translator at their side just like us, although most of the Chinese I spoke with had a very good command of the English language. It was good to see all these 'big' people like us, but then I started to notice how most of the westerners looked very businesslike, slick, wore too much perfume and too much makeup. They 'looked' good and you could spot the 'designers' a mile away in their beautiful all black outfits. However, the more 'sophisticated' people looked by our contemporary ideas, the more unfriendly, unhappy, and unapproachable they felt. Their facial expressions were hard and unappealing. When I wasn't repelled by them I felt either embarrassed or sorry for them. But then I began to wonder how much I looked like they did -- minus the beautiful black outfit that is. I looked at the Chinese and then the westerners and I didn't know how I looked, but I felt like I was an outsider to both.

Now, I want to clarify that I know these qualities do not apply to all westerners. What I am relating to you has everything to do with my personal perceptions that relate to things I need to see and learn about in my life. I am NOT anti-western and am in fact all packed and ready to hop on that plane to come home as soon as they will let me on. As I live between these two cultures my life feels like an ongoing movie. You know how movies can seem so intense because they condense at least several days worth of life changing experiences into an hour and a half or so? That is how my life feels here. It seems like every place I go I get flooded with impressions. They are mind boggling, inspiring, and shake my world at its very core. Where it is all leading I do not know, but I do know that it is all good.

When I got home from the school yesterday, my head was jam packed with yet more new experiences and impressions. I looked at the clock and was amazed to see that my visit at the school had lasted only an hour. I felt like I had been there all day! Suddenly I flashed on my first day of kindergarten.

The day was sunny and beautiful. I remember as I walked up the sidewalk I felt so small and had butterflies in my stomach. What were we going to do all afternoon, what were the other kids going to be like, what was the teacher like? Then I noticed that the big wooden doors of Laurie Elementary School were painted the same shade of green as the green in my favorite dress that I had chosen for this big day. I immediately knew everything was going to be just fine. I turned and waved good-bye to my mom and went through the big doors. Sure enough, it was just fine. In fact it was great. So, I will go back on Friday for another visit, and maybe even help with English pronunciation! I am looking forward to it, whatever the visit ends up being. I know it will be amazing and...just fine. Probably even great.