Dragon Hearts Page 2
So many Kodak moments here. Whether I capture them on camera or not, they are forever embedded in my heart.
My apartment is new and spacious. Wen Wen arranged everything. Wen Wen is my best Chinese lady friend in Beijing. I met her in 2008 when I first taught here for three weeks and shared her apartment. Now I live in her uncle’s apartment in a different district of the city. In the U.S. we would call it a condominium, but the Chinese call it an apartment or house. Uncle will give the apartment to his daughter when she marries. She doesn’t even have a boyfriend now, but Chinese parents plan carefully for the future of their children.
I share the apartment with Liz, a fellow Valparaiso University professor. Liz will return to the U.S. in December. I’m not accustomed to living with creatures other than my cats, so I’m curious as to how this roommate thing will pan out. Liz and I pay a nice Chinese lady $4.50 to clean our apartment once a week. It’s the going rate. Can you imagine! I will give her a raise.
Except for Liz, all my colleagues and students at Fanzhidu School are Chinese. They use English names to help us Americans who are either too lazy or too inept to remember Chinese names. I’ll place myself in the inept category. Just can’t master pronouncing the likes of “Zhang Zhiyao.”
I’m getting around by myself on buses and subways these days but only between my apartment, school, and the Fanzhidu main office at Hong Kong Macau Center where Wen Wen and other administrators work. The first time I commuted to school alone, I felt like a little girl heading off to kindergarten – excited and full of nervous anticipation.
Connecting to the Internet remains a challenge. No Net at school. The IT guy up and quit. Wen Wen is arranging service in my apartment. I’m writing this email from one of the many Starbucks in Beijing – happy to be using its Wi-Fi for the price of a cup of hot oolong tea. Yo will meet me here soon. We clicked. We’re best buds already. Ah, bye for now – all six feet of him just walked through the Starbucks door.
Love from Dragonland,
Carol
Email from Anna
October 30, 2009
Dear Carol – I’m happy you’re settling in and loving your new life. You remind me of the old Dr. Seuss book Oh, the Places You’ll Go! It’s about time for me to do my weekly Cinderella chores. Could use your cleaning lady. At $4.50 per visit, who would be without? You seem a galaxy away. Miss you. xoxo anna
Email from Carol
October 31, 2009
Sweet Anna,
Remember when Yo met me at Starbucks? From there we set out to find a dinner restaurant. Neither of us was familiar with the area, and it was raining, so we dashed inside the first inviting eatery. Morel’s had a cozy European atmosphere. The host seated us at a table for two. After one look at the menu, I knew the food was too expensive for Yo. Inexperienced Chinese English teachers are paid a pittance. He would have lost face if we had left, so we stayed. I offered to help with the bill, but he wouldn’t allow me to pay even 1 Yuan. Already I know the worst thing for a Chinese man or woman is to lose face.
Morel’s caters primarily to Westerners, and our table was set accordingly – no chopsticks. We weren’t in a finger lickin’ sort of place, so I taught Yo the proper use of the good ole knife, fork, and spoon. It was slow going. I thought the poor guy would starve while cutting chicken off the breastbone on his plate.
Yo is certainly easy on the eyes. He asked me to dinner on Wednesday. It’s my only available evening this week. I hope he doesn’t have a meeting that runs late. The Chinese are big on meetings that extend well beyond regular office hours. Lucky for me, only Chinese teachers are required to attend. There are advantages to being an American teacher at Fanzhidu School.
Am tired now. While it’s good morning for you, it’s good night for me. The time difference between us is twelve hours. When I’m going to bed, you’re starting a new day. Mind-boggling.
Hugs,
Carol
Email from Anna
October 31, 2009
Dear Carol – I know you’re delighting in every new person and in each new experience. I’m sure the Chinese are crazy about you already. No surprise. You have a gift for touching hearts.
I love the detailed accounts of your life in Beijing. I’m living vicariously through your experiences, so here’s a request. Would you consider writing your impressions in a journal and sending them to me periodically? That way I won’t miss any of your adventures. What do you think? xoxo anna
Email from Carol
November 1, 2009
Sweet Anna,
I’m all for your journaling idea. I’ll email you Beijing Updates containing bundles of journal entries. I did something similar for my mom during the summer after graduating college. My French professor arranged a job for me as a governess with a French family in Paris. I was a wide-eyed tourist for a week. After that I traveled with my French family to their summer home in Erquy, a small seaside fishing and resort village in the province of Brittany. I kept a journal on lined notebook paper and mailed entries home every week or so. No personal computers or emails back then. Mom kept every page. I still have the complete France journal in a green folder on a bookshelf.
My new China journal will be about hearts – Chinese hearts touching my heart – and mine touching theirs. I’m experiencing many facets of love and will write about all of them. The journal will document highlights of my life as it evolves here in Dragonland. Writing will be a labor of love. As you read the entries, I hope you will come to know and love the Chinese people as I do. We are so much more alike than different. For those who fear or hate Communism, I can make one statement unequivocally. The fact that China is a Communist country does not compromise the good hearts of her people. This I know.
Messages from you are sweet reminders of my other world back in the States, as many of my Chinese friends call the U.S. Revel in your family, your friends, and your art while I’m away. Enjoy every moment – as I am. We will rejoice in our reunion next summer. My journaling begins tomorrow. Are you ready? Here we go.
:-)
Carol
November 2, 2009
I love Beijing and am feeling right at home now. During the first days I was contemplating a speedy retreat to North America. Not now. Wouldn’t miss this gig for the world. Classes are great. Students remarkable. I even get a vigorous stair-step workout several times a day, because classrooms and offices are located on the fourth floor – no elevator.
Yo has become a special friend. He is the most splendid man I have ever met – very traditional – very honorable. We’re together most of every teaching day, because he’s my assistant and classroom interpreter. Yo is too young for anything besides a best buddy – probably! For some silly reason, he admires the heck out of me.
It snowed like mad yesterday – the earliest snow in Beijing in twenty-two years. Not one snowflake fell last year, so I didn’t bother bringing winter boots. Major mistake. Looks like I unwittingly lassoed a Midwest winter and dragged it along to the Orient.
Cali (short for California) is a Fanzhidu student. He was born in Beijing and lives here. That makes him a Beijinger. Cali invited me to lunch and to sightsee on the morning of the snowstorm. We braved the elements, and he ordered a feast for us at a traditional Chinese restaurant. Way too much food. The Chinese never want a guest to leave the table hungry. Besides, I think Cali was trying to impress me. He did.
After lunch we walked to Yonghe Lama Temple – a famous Tibetan Buddhist temple and monastery near the restaurant. Cali was my personal tour guide. We bowed three times and burned incense sticks in front of a Buddha statue. Later in the day we passed street vendors, and Cali insisted I eat “stinky tofu.” It smells like manure, but tastes delicious. I had fun – but froze every cell of my body.
November 4, 2009
It’s November and nippy, but there’s no heat in China. The government sets the “heat on” date in the fall and the “heat off” date in spring. Wen Wen said officials will flip the prover
bial “on switch” sometime this month. The sooner, the better. We’re having a blue-lip cold spell. Americans would storm the White House if our government controlled thermostats. This is the first clear indication that I’m living in a Communist country.
Snow has covered the ground for four days. You can imagine how cold it is in my apartment and in school. Brrrrr! In class I wear a wool hat and knee-length down coat. The worst is squatting in the school bathroom. Western toilets are scarce in China. I pull down my jeans, squat over what looks like a narrow-ish, rectangular porcelain sink in the floor, and do whatever. Shockingly cold on the privates.
My escapade with Cali had consequences – the flu. I’m home with a fever. Because of the current H1N1 epidemic, a security guard at the school gate takes everyone’s temperature every morning. No one with a fever sets foot inside the building – no exceptions. Hope I don’t have H1N1!
November 5, 2009
I’m still home with a low-grade fever. Yo called to check on me. We decided to postpone our Wednesday dinner plans, but tomorrow he’ll take me to what the Chinese call a pharmacy. Not the same as in the United States. A pharmacy here sells traditional Chinese medicine. No prescription is necessary, because Chinese medicine is made from plants.
Yo wants to become a proficient English speaker. He has a long way to go. We communicate reasonably well, but sometimes it’s difficult understanding precise meanings and feelings. I am forever Yo’s teacher. At his request, I correct his mistakes and explain unfamiliar words. In return, he teaches me Chinese culture. It’s a good trade.
I’m developing feelings for Yo. I won’t share them with anyone besides Anna unless they lead to something significant. For others to know now would cause speculation. The future is unknown to us all.
November 7, 2009
I’m recovering. Am about 80 percent now. Taught yesterday. Yo helped me buy the same herbs his mama gave him when he was a sick boy. I think it’s cute that he still calls his mother “mama” and his father “papa.” He started to pay for my pills and granules, but I shook my head and said, “When you’re a wealthy man, you can pay for everything.” As for the Chinese medicine, the green pills wash down fine, but the granules, which dissolve in hot water, taste like stinky tofu smells. Yuck!
I worry that Yo saves money by skimping on food. He ate oatmeal for dinner last night. Sometimes he eats oatmeal at his desk for a snack. I invited him to a healthy dinner tonight – a real meal with plenty of meat, vegetables, and fruit. He accepted my invitation. After class we walked through Ditan Park on our way to Pizza Buffet – his choice of restaurants.
A colorful clothing bazaar was in full swing inside Ditan Park – Yo calls it Earth Park. He’s like most American men when it comes to shopping. His eyes glazed over when I stopped at the first booth. To spare him further agony, I donned mental blinders as we passed a seemingly unending row of fascinating vendors.
It did my heart good to see Yo eat like a field hand at Pizza Buffet. The more he ate, the wider my smile. I intended to pay at the end of the meal, as is the custom in most restaurants here, but not at Pizza Buffet. Unbeknownst to me, Yo paid for both our meals before we sat down. Tricky Yo.
My friend is formidable. He’s six feet tall, broad-shouldered, and full of magnetic male energy. He turns twenty-six next month. Despite his youth, he’s a deep thinker and astute observer. In many ways he is wise beyond his years. Occasionally, he’ll snatch a complicated concept out of the ether and slow pitch it at me. After dinner we strolled along a foggy Beijing street. “You are eagle-eyed,” he said. “You’re a wise philosopher and know things in your heart that others do not know.” Perhaps Yo knows more about me than I know about myself.
Yo has a powerful singing voice and loves rap music. Oblivious to passing pedestrians, he belted out an original rap song. He sang in Chinese, so I don’t know if he used vulgar or violent lyrics. I have never heard Yo use profanity. He is a gentleman – at least with me.
Dense fog enveloped us, and we became disoriented. I teased Yo about getting lost within walking distance of school. It was funny and fun. When we didn’t want to be lost anymore we jumped into a taxi, and Yo gave the driver our school address.
When it was time to say goodnight he put me in another taxi. The ride home took nearly an hour. I no sooner unlocked my apartment door than he called to make sure I arrived safely. The man is a dearheart. I came to China to meet Yo – but I didn’t know it until now.
November 8, 2009
My roommate Liz invited Yo to join us for dinner at our apartment. I don’t know why, but I’m glad. She’s a good cook. She will make us homemade Chinese dumplings stuffed with ground pork, onion, garlic, and ginger.
November 9, 2009
Three wasn’t a crowd for Liz, Yo, and me last night. I helped a tiny bit with dinner by stuffing a few dumplings, but it’s no secret that I’m worthless in the kitchen.
Yo brought two bottles of Chinese red wine. Particularly considerate of him, since in China it’s not customary to bring a hostess gift. Yo had no idea how to operate Liz’s wine bottle opener, so he used the floor for leverage. He’s a strong guy. I knew he would get the cork out one way or another – with his teeth, if necessary. We had a good laugh and some tasty, full-bodied, Great Wall wine.
Via our small dinner party, Liz and I socially initiated our apartment in the best possible way. The three of us talked, laughed, and solidified our three-way friendship. I continued feeling Yo’s zesty vitality long after we said goodnight. He is quite the dynamo in an adorably unpretentious way.
November 14, 2009
I stood at the front of the crowded bus this morning. The driver and I shared the same view. He was a man on a mission. He drove the bus with as much intensity as a soldier drives a tank across enemy lines, and he honked the horn at every driver or pedestrian who dared impede his full-speed-ahead momentum. He grunted at them. It was hilarious – until he grunted at me.
I’m having fun navigating around the city on my own now. Getting lost is just part of an adventure. In a pinch I can always call Wen Wen or Yo. Together they provide a comfortable dual safety net.
We had two major snowstorms this week. I watched city workers sweep snow off sidewalks with primitive brooms – the kind you picture a witch riding across a full moon on Halloween night. I haven’t seen or heard a single snow blower in Beijing. Instead of buying gas-powered equipment, the government hires workers. I like the policy. More people have jobs.
I have no idea how all the magnificent skyscrapers come to be in Beijing. At street level most work is labor-intensive and performed with the most basic tools. Make no mistake. Countless buildings are going up in nearly every Beijing neighborhood. Construction cranes punctuate the skyline. Spectacular growth. I guess the government’s philosophy is “If you build it, they will come.” People do come – from all over China – from all over the world.
Men gross me out by loudly hawking up all the phlegm they possibly can and spitting it in goopy globs on sidewalks and streets. No one cringes at this except me. Many women are just as bad. I’ve seen both white-haired grandmothers and smartly dressed professional women spit wads. The practice seems part of Chinese culture. Everyone is a potential spitter. No one is above suspicion – except Wen Wen and Yo, of course.
November 15, 2009
Most Chinese women are slender and wear feminine attire – dresses or skirts and high-heeled shoes or stylish leather boots. High heels are definitely the rage in Beijing footwear. Ouch! As a teenager, I couldn’t wait to get into them. Now, I can’t wait to get out of them.
Beijing is a fascinating place, and the Chinese are fascinating people. They live harmoniously. Harmony is the operative word here. Even bizarre Beijing traffic has a detectable element of harmony. I’ve never seen road rage. Drivers toot horns, but rarely out of anger. The toot is more of a heads up that the driver is nearby and making a move.
Bus drivers are the exception. Buses are modern-day dragons forcibly s
naking their way through Beijing streets. Bus drivers fully control the wrath of their dragons. Awareness of this power swells them into arrogance. As a former prosecuting attorney I witnessed a similar phenomenon when judges put on black robes and when policemen strapped on guns.
This morning I took my Mac PowerBook to the Apple Store at Sanlitun, a popular area for Westerners in the Chaoyang District of Beijing. Many foreign embassies are located there as well as famous international stores and pubs. The Chinese computer geeks at the Genius Bar solved two out of three computer problems. Given the age of my laptop, the third was too costly to repair. I will limp along with my ailing Apple a while longer.
Wen Wen arrived at my apartment in the early afternoon carrying a DVD player – a gift. I’ve acquired a raft of DVD movies in Beijing. They’re cheap – about $1.50 each from vendors selling them illegally on the street. Wen Wen says the movies are “fake” – pirated. She says I can find fake anything in China. She calls it Chinese magic.
Wen Wen and I bought groceries at the supermarket. Tomorrow I’ll attempt to serve Yo a meal that neither chokes nor poisons him. He’s coming to my apartment for dinner and a movie. I’m planning a no-brainer meal. Good for both of us.