In mid-March, when Matt was
traveling back in the states and I was suffering through yet another bout of
illness, Shanghai started seeming like not such a fun place to live
anymore. I woke up each morning
and looked outside and thought, man this
town is dreary. And then I
read an article in the local newspaper (English version) about how Shanghai had
just experienced a record-setting period of cloudy days, which started right
around when we returned from Hawaii, and was predicted to end that week. Apparently the skies haven’t been this
gray since 1980. It dawned on me
that no wonder this place was seeming so gloomy; it literally had been for the
past six weeks!
Well, I am happy to announce
that the seasons have turned, the sun has come out, flowers are blooming, Tyler
and I are finally ceasing the sniffles, and things are all-around cheery. Let the sun shine!
I got into a taxi today with
a female driver.As we pulled up
next to a big city bus, also driven by a woman, I started thinking about the
jobs women in China occupy that they typically don’t back in the US.In my six years in New York City, I
think I saw a female cabbie once. They’re in the minority here, but definitely
not uncommon.In NYC there were
some female bus drivers, but not typically, whereas here I’d say it’s about
50/50.In New York, I never once
saw a female construction worker or utility repairwoman.Yet I’ve noticed many construction
crews here with women in the mix, and utility crews in the streets fixing water
or electrical lines almost always include at least one woman.
This whole reflection in the
taxi reminded me of an experience Matt and I had when we first moved into our
apartment here.Our sliding glass
doors leading out to the balcony were broken, so we called the complex’s
maintenance office and they said they’d send a worker right up.When the doorbell rang, Matt opened it
to discover a very petite, middle-aged woman dressed smartly in a satin floral
blouse, black slacks, and black high heels. He turned to me and shrugged; surely something had been lost
in translation and the management office didn’t understand the nature of our
request.As he and I wondered how
to rectify this, she kicked off her heels, went over to the door, opened her
toolkit, and commenced banging and poking and screwing until the door smoothly
slid open and shut.I was
impressed, and then embarrassed to be impressed, and then excited to live in a
place that was clearly going to break down some stereotypes – in both expected
and unexpected ways.
Many Americans make the mistake
of assuming that China’s developing economy and non-democratic government have
resulted in a society that surely isn’t as progressive as ours.But as I read the American news (with
political gaffes, racially-charged crimes, and woeful business reports), I
think my female taxi driver might begin to challenge that assumption.
So
far my (very amateur and sparse) study of Mandarin has focused on functional
words and phrases, just the simple pronunciations for me to navigate taxis,
markets, and instructions for our ayi (literally
“auntie”, the woman who helps me with cooking and cleaning). I’ve been intrigued by the written
characters, but have found them to be less pictographic than I originally
imagined, and thus have a hard time learning any.
Well,
I recently found a character that conveys its meaning perfectly. I present you with the Chinese character for “to
cry” (in Mandarin, pronounced kū). It might be my new favorite!
First, the bad: TJ did not
like the hotel’s crib one bit. She didn’t like sleeping at night
either. Her nose – well, all of our noses – plugged up with all sorts of
treasures collected from the super-polluted air. She decided to scream at
many inopportune times, like at a sacred temple, stuck in the rain, and in
quiet restaurants. Matt headed off to a day of important business
meetings with sleep deprivation and a massive headache. Val & TJ got
stuck on a busy boulevard, unable to flag a taxi. Val forgot to pack
socks. Our intended brunch spot was overbooked. Our intended dinner
spot was too far away. Due to some bigwigs in town, security was
heightened to a ridiculous degree. It took us 45 minutes just to cross
the street near Tian’anmen Square. We arrived at the Forbidden City only
to find out that they stopped selling tickets for the day just ten minutes
prior. We walked way too far for way too long. We had a bunch of
pesky little issues with our hotel room. And to end our trip, we were
subjected to the most annoying security screening ever at the airport.
Now for some good: TJ loved
the hotel’s baby pool.We loved
the working cable TV.Matt sailed
through his various business presentations.Val found an awesome mall with the worlds longest/biggest
escalator and a store with a massive sale on socks.We got to enjoy a delicious dinner of Peking duck and other
Chinese delicacies (like sea cucumber – not
a vegetable!).Val learned that she can nurse TJ
anywhere, in any conditions.We
ate a delicious brunch with wonderful friends.We bargained down a bicycle cabbie, using our limited
Mandarin and local negotiating tactics, until we got way better than the
typical tourist deal on a sweet rickshaw ride around an old traditional
neighborhood.We stumbled upon a
quaint little Vietnamese restaurant with intriguing décor and satisfying
food.After so many trials and
tribulations, we moved through annoyance and past anger into delirium, until
every new obstacle gave Matt a clever punchline and sent Val into giggles.And due to our troubled hotel stay, we
now have a deluxe suite waiting for us . . . if we ever dare return to Beijing.
Temple of Heaven, where TJ provided a soundtrack
A rare moment: TJ awake for a photo
The Weis with Chairman Mao at Tian'anmen Square
Forbidden City lived up to its name for us
Did I mention it was freezing cold (literally)?
Peking Duck dinner with delightful hosts was a trip highlight
Lovely rickshaw ride reminded us of our Dhaka days
