Foreigners

I live in Shanghai with 24 million other people. I don't speak the language or share many cultural traits with the vast majority of them. It's amazing how "alone" one can feel adrift in a sea of people. I walk almost everywhere, and usually I am pretty tuned out, just focusing on getting to my destination, on managing the kids in the stroller that is too big for the sidewalks here, avoiding the gawks and stares and even photos at such a tall woman and her two (TWO!) blonde blue-eyed babies. But lately I've been trying to find the beauty in my surroundings and feel a sense of delight, perhaps even serenity, in this buzzing urban jungle. To this end, today I admired this little Russian church that I pass almost daily. I think it's beautiful, and standing in such sharp contrast to the buildings surrounding it, it reminds me that I'm not the only foreign one in this place.

Russian Orthodox Mission Church, with our apartment building peeking through behind

Fortune Cookie

We have lived here for over two years now, and in that time have sampled many types of Chinese food, including Ayi's Anhui homestyle; local cuisines from Yunnan, Sichuan, Shanghai, Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan; hot pot, noodle shops, Peking duck, street dumplings, and xiaolongbao (soup dumplings).

But we’ve never eaten Chinese food like this before . . . here.

the familiar florescent sign gives us our first hint of what's to come

Fortune Cookie is the classic American Chinese food experience, down to the notorious takeout containers and that annoying waving cat.

We ordered crab rangoon, chow mein, sweet & sour pork, and orange chicken. We can't wait to go back for their beef & broccoli and some chop suey.

Their fortunes may be a bit unusual, but the rest of the experience was spot-on authentic – we were transported! And it was delicious.

only the fortune inside the cookie reminds me that we're still in Shanghai

Mooncakes

We just celebrated the Mid-Autumn Festival last week, which is a national holiday dating back to ancient China, and is meant to worship the harvest full moon. Similar to American Thanksgiving, there’s generally a lot of eating and drinking with family. Typical customs during the modern holiday include moon-gazing and eating mooncakes.

fancy box of mooncakes

In my opinion, mooncakes are a bit like our fruitcakes: supposedly a beloved traditional treat, but actually not that incredibly addictively delicious. Like most Chinese desserts, they aren’t overly sweet. The outside is a dense eggy cake, often with fancy flowers and calligraphy imprinted on it. The filling is traditionally bean paste, but I’ve seen everything from meat- to ice cream- filled mooncakes.

mooncake surface view

cut open to reveal the filling

This year, Pat*’s boss gave him a box of lotus-yolk mooncakes, which he brought over to share with us. I’m not sure what I was expecting on the inside, but I guess I wasn’t thinking quite so literally.

egg yolk!

Yes, that is an egg yolk surrounded by lotus bean paste. I liked the bean paste, subtly sweet and a rich texture. The yolk, well... it wasn’t my favorite part.

中秋节快乐！(Happy Mid-Autumn Festival)

*Pat is Matt's dad, he also lives in Shanghai

Blue Skies

Proof that sometimes the pollution lifts and we are actually under the same sky as everyone else in the world…

(and if you’re wondering, this is the view out the windows of our 16^th story apartment)

A Little R&R in Shanghai

Matt just switched jobs, and in between finishing one and starting the next we had just enough time for a very very mini vacation. We decided to travel on the cheap, spending less than $2 total to transport our family to the Sheshan Le Meridien resort, which is located within Shanghai district limits and is accessible by subway. 

It was amazing travelling nearly to the end of the subway line. I really realized how expansive this city is and how it can host over 24 million residents: there were still blocks and blocks of high-rise apartments even after travelling 45 minutes by train out of downtown.

Once we arrived in Sheshan, a bit more than an hour from downtown via subway, we were greeted by hawkers selling all sorts of beach and sun paraphenalia. Sheshan is an interesting place, famous for its "mountains" (barely hills by Colorado standards) housing an old Jesuit chapel and observatory. Nowadays it's probably more popular for the scupture park nestled into the forests, the amusement and water parks, and a few resorts -- such as the Le Meridien -- that have established themselves as a destination for corporate retreats and small conventions.

In any case, we got to enjoy huge indoor and outdoor pools, a playground and bouncy castle, a manmade beach (although for safety reasons we decided it best to just look and not play in the sand or stagnant water of the lake), and expansive grounds with lots of pathways along the lakeside and through the forests. Matt even ran up the mountains to check out the chapel and observatory.

While it was by no means a luxurious beach vacation, Sheshan still proved to be a welcome respite from the Shanghai city heat and hustle. It's nice to know we have an option of a nearby and affordable little escape whenever we need a weekend recharge.

view of the "beach" from our room

because what resort doesn't need a giant satellite?

the cathedral and observatory on the hill in the background past the convention center

TJ loved the bouncy castle

a little wedding chapel on the hotel grounds

path across the lake to the outdoor pool and playground

The Urban Farm

We recently visited Shanghai's newest mall, K11. 

It's being advertised as an "Art Mall", which means it has various art installations -- anything from murals to sculptures to interactive light displays -- on each floor in between the shops, but for this trip we didn't focus on any of that. We didn't visit a single store either. 

Instead, we enjoyed exploring the "green" concepts they had employed, including a rooftop garden with views of their plant-covered exterior, and the most outrageous, their indoor "urban farm". Yep, herbs, tomatoes, peppers, and even piglets, all growing under some intense lightbulbs.

vertical garden up the side of the building

the pig pen, with plenty of paparazzi

the stars of the farm

The Hot List

It's averaging 100F here, barely dipping into the 80s at night. The humidity feels like it's at 99% (really more like 60-75%). Heat index 115F and up. My friend told me it's the hottest summer here since the 1930s. Last Wednesday reached a record high, and last Friday had the hottest average temperature in 140 years. In summary, it is HOT!

I know there's a heat wave globally right now, so we're not the only ones experiencing this special kind of summer. Still, when coming from Colorado with it's comparably gorgeous weather, the oven that is Shanghai becomes particularly hard to handle. In an effort to make some ice cold lemonade from these sweltering lemons, here is my Top 10 list of the benefits to this ridiculous weather:

10. EVERYONE is sweaty, so for once it's not just me with the dripping forehead

9. Don't need to go to the gym to enjoy the sauna

8. Even the stingiest taxi drivers are cranking up the kongtiao (air con)

7. The humidity haze gives everything a nice dream-like sheen

6. No fear of cramping, as muscles stay nice and warm

5. Chance to see a wide variety of Chinese men's undergarments

4. Can practice Bikram (Hot) Yoga anytime, anywhere

3. Shower water is instantly hot without even needing to use our water heater

2. A glass of ice water tastes absolutely heavenly

1. Instant badass cred for surviving the heat

Pei Pa Koa

Delivering a baby in China is kind of a crazy experience. And that’s as much as I’m going to say about that on this blog.

But I will tell you about the coolest thing I brought home from the hospital, besides the baby of course.

It just so happened that I was coming down with a cold right before going into labor, and so by the time Avery was born I had a constant tickle in my throat and the strong desire to cough. This isn’t the most pleasant experience in recovery from a c-section. And between my other meds and breastfeeding, my treatment options were limited.

Luckily, Traditional Chinese Medicine includes hands-down the best cough syrup I’ve ever used. This stuff is legendary; I’ve heard of expats returning to their home country with stashes, or desperately visiting their local “Chinatown” in search of that amazing remedy they remember from their days abroad.

the box

It’s called Pei Pa Koa and it’s magical. It tastes, well, like typical cough syrup actually. It has the appearance and consistency of molasses, and contains a bunch of Chinese herbs and extracts mixed with honey. One tablespoon of this incredible elixir and I didn’t have the urge to cough all night long.

the syrup

I guess I'm joining the ranks of the crazy repatriates who are hooked on their TCM remedies.

Sidewalk Butcher Shop

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My father-in-law, who has now lived in Shanghai for four and a half months, recently told me that China might convert him to vegetarianism.  I just can’t understand his position, seeing as how meat is advertised so appetizingly here.  Take, for example, these delectable offerings along a local market street.  Tyler and I enjoyed these sights (and accompanying smells!) as we walked to music class one morning.

street-side fish & fowl

cut to order, as the duck looks on (I believe those are eels curled up in the back)

future Peking Duck?

getch'er sausage 'ere!

gutted fish provide shade for the butcher's block

ducks in a row

Are you hungry yet?

The China Cough

The air quality here has been so poor recently that it’s headline news around the world.  Beijing’s pollution over the weekend was literally off the scales.  Shanghai has been suffering from some nasty air too; I woke up on Saturday morning barely able to see the skyscrapers just a few blocks away from us through the hazy smog.  When we went out, even inside a grocery store deep within a mall, I could feel my nose burning.  Needless to say, our apartment’s air filters have been cranked to full capacity 24 hours a day for the past week.  I shudder to think about our electric bill, but it seems like the least serious of the potential consequences.

This morning I awoke to a very dry nose and scratchy throat.  A friend on the phone asked if I had a cold, because I sounded congested and gravelly.  My Chinese tutor also apparently noticed my symptoms during our lesson.  At the end, he told me he was going to teach me a buzzword.  He wrote out:

中国咳

Pronounced “zhongguo ke”, these characters translate as “China cough”.  The phrase started as the “Beijing cough”, and was used almost exclusively regarding foreigners who developed sore throats while living there.  But now, as pollution is rampant throughout the country and even born-and-raised urban Chinese are developing uncomfortable symptoms, the phrase has become ubiquitous.  

Today I won't get into the politics of censorship, and how the government has always tightly controlled air quality monitoring.  How they issued stern warnings to the United States, whose local consulates began their own testing and publishing of air quality metrics last year.  How I've noticed some recent signs of admittance of a problem, including the local government issuing notices to schools to halt outdoor exercises during heavy pollution periods.  How I'm hopeful that we will witness a shift in policy during our time as residents of China.  How I believe the conversion from coverup to cleanup is inevitable, if not imminent.

No, for today, I'll just enjoy another afternoon indoors…

Flavor Confusion

You know that popular flavor often denoted with a little leaf or green letters/packaging?  It is delicious when paired with chocolate, makes a yummy ice cream flavor, and is typically used to freshen breath in products like gum, lozenges, and mouthwash.

If you grew up in a culture like mine, you’re probably thinking mint.

But in the culture where I’m now living, this means green tea.

I have lived in China for almost a year and a half now, and still at least once every few weeks I will buy something “mint” flavored that makes it all the way into my mouth before I realize my mistake. 

Don’t get me wrong, I actually really like green tea as a drink (in fact, I’m enjoying a cup as I sit here typing).  I even enjoy the matcha green tea flavor used in desserts like ice cream and chocolate truffles and Starbucks lattes.  I’ve been known to purposefully buy that flavor many a time. 

Yet I cannot shake my association with certain products, certain labeling, and a certain flavor: mint.  And when I want – then expect – something mint-flavored, the green tea taste becomes rather repulsive.  I wonder how many more times I will repeat this mistake before I learn.  Probably just in time to move back to the US and shudder when my chocolate-covered matcha ice cream bar tastes surprisingly minty…

How to be a Chinese Handyman

First, get an old bag with lots of pockets.  Pockets are essential, even though your bag will not be sorted into any discernible system.

Then, fill this bag with random screws, nails, nuts, bolts, and bits of wire.  Under no circumstances should you visit a hardware store to purchase these trinkets.  That would ruin the intended effect, which is to suggest you have been cultivating your collection for many years.  The more used your doodads, the better.  Bits of rust and paint add intrigue.  Broken nails are a bonus.  If you can gather lint and hair and unidentifiable grime on a little spiral of metal wire, consider yourself a master of your trade.  Display this wire on an outer loop of your bag like a badge of honor.  You will notice clients eyeing your muck-covered wire, because they too recognize the value it holds.  Their queasy expression masks their sense of wonder and jealousy.  Go ahead, flick your bag to leave a bit of this wire's treasure behind in your client's home.  They love this.

Once you have your bag ready, you should devote attention to your nail.  I mean the one on your finger, your non-dominant pinky to be exact.  Allow it to grow out.  Do not cut it ever again.  Once it is of sufficient length, you may begin filing.  Work towards a point.  Eventually this nail will be very useful to you.  No, not for your work.  For picking your nose.  But this skill (with accompanying specialized nail) is a job requirement.

Learn the art of furniture climbing.  Step-stools and ladders are for amateurs.  When a client calls you to look at their broken light fixture or install drapes above a window, they are hoping for a simultaneous balancing act worthy of the circus.  Once you enter their home, begin searching out the most precarious way to climb to their ceiling.  Counters or window ledges are too obvious, too basic.  Standing on an antique side table is a decent start.  The next level is to perch on the edge of their delicate armchair.  Maybe walk across the back of their sofa, where you've placed your old bag, muck-side down of course.  Once you've mastered one-piece climbs, try balancing a chair on top of a bookcase.  Tilt the chair for maximum sighs of wonder from your clients-cum-audience.  You must be on the lookout for the occasional tricky client who offers you their sturdy and sensible footstool.  Shrug it off and continue swaying on their rolling desk chair as you hammer away at their ceiling.

Which brings us to your final preparation: practice the art of the well-placed whack.  The western idiom about duct tape and WD-40 is too complicated; it requires remembering whether your desired result is stuck or unstuck.  Worse yet, it requires carrying supplies that you might actually use -- not the point of the bag, remember.  The Chinese handyman credo is simpler: every household quandary can be resolved with a bang.  If one thwack doesn't do the trick, try another.  Or ten.  Or 100.  Or basically just keep banging away until the problem is fixed.  Despite defying all rules of physics and logic, this strategy actually works 99% of the time.

Once you’ve delivered the golden whack, your job is done.  Leave the furniture upended, stacked, and ideally teetering dangerously.  Remember to flick your bag before you go.  As an encore, demonstrate your pinky-dagger nose-picking abilities on the way out the door.  You have mastered the art and science of the Chinese handyman.

Beyond the Pale

Now that summertime has turned to fall, the ubiquitous umbrellas are disappearing.  This isn’t due to a decrease in rain.  Instead it’s because umbrellas here – particularly for women – aren’t used to stay dry.  Rather, they are used to stay pale.

lots of umbrellas, not a drop of rain

I guess a more appropriate term for these required summer accessories would be "parasols".  They are quite fancy here, with tons of colors and patterns, some adorned in lace and sequins, and even including undersides with some pretty serious looking UV-blocking material.  Think ball-gown on the outside, spacesuit on the inside. 

If a lunchtime stroll on a sunny day necessitates a parasol, then what about a trip to the beach?  Well, the new trend in Qingdao and other Chinese beach communities is the "face-kini".**  To me, this doesn’t look like a particularly enjoyable swim outfit, but I guess it does allow women to both enjoy the ocean and keep their skin completely protected.

the makings of a beach-themed horror movie?  (c) AFP/Getty Images 

This concern with remaining pale extends beyond outdoor protection.  When I want to buy face-wash or body lotion, I have to carefully search through the aisles to find the small shelf of products that do not contain “whitening” agents.  There are special creams designed to bleach every part of a woman’s body, from armpits to “down there”.  That particular product was a rather horrifying discovery.

Considering the culture I grew up in includes tanning salons and bronzing creams, I cannot claim any sort of superiority over these women who strive to remain fair.  And frankly, the lady under the parasol will have healthier skin as a result of her habits, assuming she goes easy on the bleaching products. 

But as someone who finds umbrellas rather cumbersome, it seems like a nuisance to have to carry one everyday, just to stay that extra shade of pale.

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**link to related NYT article here

One Year

One year ago today, with a sleeping infant, 13 pieces of luggage, and a mixture of trepidation and adventure, we stepped off a plane and into China. 

I wish I had something really profound to say about this milestone, but it kind of snuck up on us.  It's hard for me to believe we've already been residents of Shanghai for a year, as I still feel like a newbie in so many ways. Yet as I go about my daily routines, I am realizing how much we've normalized so many experiences that were strange and uncomfortable a year ago. I have many days that I distinctly feel like a visitor here, clearly a foreigner in a foreign land. But I do think we are slowly carving our own little niche in this city. 

The first year was mostly about hanging on for dear life as we were thrust onto the wild rides of new (foreign) city, parenthood, and crazy consulting hours. Now I feel like we can take a deep breath, collect ourselves, and begin a second year of more intentional living, deeper discovery, and greater connectedness -- with China and as a family.

With one whirlwind year under our belt, I'm really looking forward to the journey ahead.

Graffiti

Graffiti is a common aspect of urban life, yet strikingly absent in Shanghai.  Until, that is, we visited M50.  M50 is an abandoned cluster of industrial buildings (I believe an old textile mill) that were adopted by a few local artists about ten years ago.  Over the span of a decade, the space has transformed into the hottest art scene in Shanghai, where fledgling artists are neighbors with the established elite, messy studios sit above fancy galleries, and every type of artist -- sculptors, painters, architects, graphic designers -- all feed off the creative energy that pulses through the old drab warehouses.  We spent a recent afternoon wandering through the space's galleries, bookshop, and cafe, and emerged to find this: a quiet street, a crumbling wall, and lots of graffiti.

It seems M50 does indeed attract all kinds of artists.

Supermarket Musings

I guess it makes sense – given a cuisine centered around stir-fry – that the largest aisle in the supermarket would be devoted to cooking oil.

and none boast of low-cholesterol, unsaturated, trans-fat free, omega-3, etc.

Close runners-up include aisles for tea, tissues (because what we use to wipe our nose, they use as kleenex/TP/napkins/facecloths), and ramen (below).

the dorm student's dream: an aisle full of instant noodles

What I'm Not Missing

There’s an online forum here called Shanghai Mamas, which is an awesome resource for foreign parents in Shanghai.  Much of the chat activity centers around people wondering where to find things: the best preschools, familiar cereals, craft supplies, a cleaning lady, imported medicine, organic vegetables, western-style furniture, clothes/shoes that fit women over five feet tall.  Many of the chats also lament the myriad frustrations of living here.

Yesterday, one member started a different type of thread, called What I’m Not Missing, with a post about how her friends back home were complaining about ticks, a problem she had happily forgotten about.  Soon comments were pouring in from other members, reminding us all that our home countries aren’t idyllic either and in many ways Shanghai (and China more broadly) can actually boast of having the advantage. 

So, with inspiration from my fellow Shanghai Mamas, here’s my own personal list of what I’m not missing:

·      television commercials

·      the barrage of ads, solicitors, and news stories related to the upcoming election

·      doom-and-gloom news media, and a consequently pessimistic public

·      expensive taxi rides

·      dirty, smelly, dingy subways

·      driving everywhere, and maintaining a car (gas, oil changes, insurance)*

·      the temptation of fast food

·      getting sucked into bad TV, especially the multitude of mind-numbing reality shows

·      scrubbing my bathroom

·      my binding cell phone contract and outrageous cell phone bills

·      taxes added to my bill at a store

·      tips added to my bill at a restaurant

·      parking lots

·      conformity

·      only being able to fantasize about affordable tropical vacations, interesting cultural excursions, and exotic travel destinations

·      celebrity gossip

·      paying exorbitant rent for a teeny tiny apartment

·      my job, or even having to work outside of our home

·      everyone with headphones in and eyes averted

·      the wail of sirens

·      obesity as a national crisis, concern, or even conversation topic

·      the question “what do you do for a living?”

·      paying more than $10 for a haircut or a DVD box set

·      commuting to my workout

·      the expectation of tips from anyone who does anything for me

·      predictability

Of course there are a few things from home that I’ll always miss.  First and foremost, our family and friends.  The fresh, crisp mountain air.  And Target, I’ll always miss Target.

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* this was near the top of the list for all of the American moms who went from suburbia to 

city living here, and it makes me grateful that I’ve never owned a car in my “adult” life!

Foreign Food: kumquats

When I started this blog, I intended to chronicle our forays into foreign food much more often than I have so far.  It isn’t for lack of gastronomic adventures – sea slugs, chicken feet, and a red bean milkshake come quickly to mind – but rather because I usually forget to take photos until the evidence has disappeared.

However, the kumquat has become one of my favorite treats here, and as the season is ending, I had to share it … at least visually, which sadly is not nearly as satisfying.

my afternoon snack, a bowl of kumquats

Although I first tasted kumquats elsewhere, these little zingers are native to China.  They are considered good luck here, frequently given as gifts during the Lunar New Year.  Kumquats taste a little bit like tangerines or oranges, but more tart.  Their thin rind is actually the sweetest part, while the inside flesh can be mouth-puckering sour.  

post-sliced, pre-seeded kumquat

 
They can be eaten like grapes, just popped in whole, chewed, and seeds spit out at the end.  However, I prefer a slightly more complicated – and I imagine more refined – method of enjoying them.  First I roll the kumquat between my fingers, a technique recommended by kumquat aficionados to release the essential oils in the peel and soften the inside flesh, breaking down a bit of the sourness.  Then I slice it in half and gently shake out the seeds.  And for the final touch of magic, I dip it in sugar.  Between the fragrant and flavorful rind, sour flesh, and sweet sugar crystals, it is heavenly!

this one is just about to be enjoyed by yours truly