Jeanette

Today Hazel and I said goodbye to a dear friend. Jeanette arrived in China the same day we did. Now, six months later, she prepares to go home and take back with her all that she has experienced. We are going to miss her.

Jeanette has provided us a different perspective of expat life in China. Unlike me, in an upscale apartment, she has spent the last few weeks living with her Chinese co-workers in a typical Chinese apartment, where she must squat over the hole in the floor that is her toilet, where she must wash her clothes in a bucket, where that same bucket often serves as her shower, where she sleeps on a thin mat, and where air conditioning, despite the humidity, is an unavailable luxury. Our last day together, Hazel asked her "Jeanette, why are you always happy?" And indeed, she is. 

Each day, I see the material lack of those around me, and I question the disparity. I live a life of privilege, but I often feel out of place in this life. Not many years ago, I was on the other side of the great economic gap. But my friend Jeanette reminds me that regardless of which side of the gap we occupy, we can create joy for ourselves and those around us.

We love you, Jeanette!

I can barely lift one of these bottles onto the dispenser. I don't know how skinny Chinese men manage to transport this many full bottles around the city. (They are empty in this picture, but I've seen them transported full, too.)

Outside of a Buddhist temple

The beach of Macao

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A Day in the Park

Cacophony

Today I was riding home from the main consulate, which is inconveniently located a 50 rmb taxi ride away from the consular section, where I work. A 50 rmb ride equates to about eight dollars and 40 minutes. I went to the main consulate because the U.S. government doctor was in town from Beijing. I’ve tried going to “western” doctors on the Chinese market, but have had mixed experiences. One told me that my daughter’s fever was caused by allergies, another gave me an ultrasound because I had a stomach ache, and the third correctly diagnosed my daughter’s persistent tonsilitis, but provided an odd form of powder antibiotics that I had to dissolve in water, which I found to be “mafan.” Mafan is a word used to describe a situation that is annoying, troublesome, bothersome, etc.  The taxi driver who took me home after my appointment used that very word to describe an odd scene out the window. On a bicycle with a built in sound system sat a very long-haired Chinese hippy. In the five months that I’ve spent in China, I have not before seen anyone who looked like this guy. Approaching the non-harmonious scene, the taxi driver shook his head and with disgust mumbled, “mafan,” but must have also been a bit intrigued, because a moment later he rolled down the window.  In China, harmony is the ideal. In the United States, we’d probably use the word conformity to pessimistically describe what the Chinese positively refer to as harmony.  Nearly all Chinese men wear their hair very short. Some younger men opt for a slightly longer style, but this isn’t the norm.  I’m not competent to critique Chinese music, but I didn’t find the street musician’s singing to be anything special.  The background music was pre-recorded--only the singing was live. Sitting along side the Pearl River, he sang without a visible audience. No one stopped to listen, not the track suit uniformed students walking home from school, the fisherman hoping to catch dinner out of a river so polluted most admit that the water isn’t fit for agricultural use, nor the local merchants transporting their wares by bicycle. But my taxi driver couldn’t hide his intrigue. The car slowed considerably and the window stayed down until the artist’s notes were beyond earshot.  I suppose showing visible interest in something so inharmonious may in itself also be cacophonous.  But what of my driver who feigned displeasure? I dare say, in most circumstances, the appearance is all that seems to concern us.  

Regard

Today I gave up my seat on the bus to an elderly woman who's legs where obviously insufficient to sustain her through the high-speed jerking ride that awaited her.  The bus was indeed full.  But no one else appeared even mildly concerned about the woman's safety.  So she sat next to my four-year-old daughter.  At the next stop, an elderly man rose from his seat farther down the bus but refused to move until he signaled me to come to the seat.  While recognizing his kindness, I declined.  I didn't want to be that far from my daughter.  Eventually the woman and I began to chat.  She told me that she is not originally from Guangzhou but came here for work.  She offered to hold my bag that was obviously causing me some difficultly as people pushed by me.  I thanked her and handed the bag.  She asked why I thanked her, and I told her that I thought her offer was kind.  She insisted that it was I who had been so very kind to her.  And she said it with great sincerity.

I thank my ayi (nanny/cleaning lady) multiple times per day as she shows me what she accomplished for the day.  I think she does excellent work both in my home and the care she provides for my daughter.  She is honest, kind, and hardworking.  I believe she deserves the appreciation that I provide.  But she tells me that this is her job, so I should not thank her.  But I do anyway.

Giving up my seat or thanking an employee are hardly noble actions.  I do them mostly because I come from a culture where that is appropriate behavior.  But I wonder why it isn't appropriate behavior in all cultures.  I don't pretend to believe that Americans are a shining example of kindness or civility, but I think that at the core of most Americans we understand what these values are, and we understand the fact that they are indeed values.   (I recognize that political debate in the United States has waned from that understanding in recent years.)  That aside, I am left to wonder about those who are so focused on their own person that the do not see nor respond to the needs around them.

The bus I was riding took some friends and me to Baiyun mountain, where we climbed to the top and rode a tram down.  The mountain was nice, but nothing like home.  It was crowded, the roads and paths were paved, it was scattered with refreshment stands, amusements rides, a bungee jumping tower (which I went up but them chickened out as I stood on the platform, inches from jumping).  But even there, in the place of semi-nature/semi-amusement I found so much disregard.  At one point, among a crowd of people, my daughter stopped and asked me to remove her sweater.  We were not walked on a road, but a wide paved trail.  A park vehicle carrying passengers down the mountain appeared from around the curve and was heading straight for us.  The driver had sufficient time to swerve around us or slow down, but she proceeded at the same speed without any deviation.  People around us moved, but Hazel, confused stood still.  I yelled to the driver that she should stop, but she looked straight at me and kept driving.  So I put my hand out.  She finally stopped inches from me and my daughter.  On the bungee tower, I initially proceeded to the platform anxious but focused.  As I walked out, I felt the man overseeing the jump push me hard from behind.  He caught me completely off guard and rattled me.  I stepped back.  He started trying to persuade me to jump.  Several times I asked him to wait.  I wanted a moment to gather myself.  But each time I stepped close to the edge, I would feel his hand shoving me.  So I would grab the walls aside the platform.  He was so determined to get me off, that he never gave me the opportunity to do it for myself.  So I walked away.  Maybe I wouldn't have jumped anyway.  But I certainly wasn't under those conditions.  And later, as we purchased tickets for the tram ride down, my sweet friend who speaks Chinese natively requested a senior citizen ticket.  However, she did not hand the cashier her ID, which the sign about the window indicated was essential to verify age.  By looking at her, it was obvious she was not attempting a scam, but the cashier instead responded: "Can't you read, woman?" And then demanded full price.

So it isn't about the few extra dollars my friend had to spend, or the fact that I didn't get the few moments I required to muster the courage to do something that many others are able to do without those moments. Nor is it even about the idea that I would have had to grab my child and run to save her from harm.  Rather, it is about the focus on one's own task at the utter disregard for those in one's immediate proximity and direct sphere of influence.  In everything we do, we have the impact to influence people.  What I can't understand is if these people today didn't realize that or just didn't care.  But I do think it matters, and I hope that I can figure it out.

Faces and Colors of Chinese New Year's Eve

The Flower Market: under the canopy, which stretches for at least four blocks, people are selling cut and potted flowers, and New Year's decorations.

Hazel's decoration of choice, a giant lollipop, which she used to spend the evening bopping everyone with.

Cotton candy and cigarette smoke.  Should I be ashamed to admit we ate one?

Corn on the cob is Hazel's favorite street food.  She has found a neighbor of ours who will pick one up for her in the evenings on the way home from work.

As the evening got later, the crowds at the Flower Market increased dramatically.

Fortunate for Hazel, our new friend Jason was willing to give her a ride through the crowd.

Foshan

The Wet Market by our home includes this meat market.  After Hazel's first visit, she declared herself a vegetarian.  That lasted a couple of days; including a Sunday dinner with a friend who made us homemade pot roast.

A little decor to celebrate the coming year of the rabbit.  I'm not sure why there are two heads . . . .

A view of the river in FoShan.

I went to FoShan to do some porcelain shopping. I wasn't anticipating a wall decorated with toilets 

and another with sinks.

Look on the balcony above the red door.  There is a tangerine tree.  These are similar to Christmas trees in Guangzhou.  People decorate with the for Chinese New Year and hang red envelopes on them.