Matt did a great job
presenting the oddities of Shanghai-style Christmas. But as much as we enjoyed laughing over the silly miscues of
the Chinese attempting to adopt Western holiday traditions, it only served to
remind us that we were not at
“home”. The absence of snow,
our families, and a work holiday made it tough for us to embrace the Christmas spirit.
Luckily, a visit from Sarah (Val’s best friend from NYC) gave us a reason to celebrate and decorate. New stockings (handmade by Matt’s mom)
meant the beginning of some new family traditions. We found a place in Shanghai (the Ritz) that actually
did justice to a real Western Christmas Tree. And our own little potted tree wasn’t so shabby once it was
trimmed and surrounded by presents.
(photos courtesy of Sarah)
the Ritz Carlton beauty
our own tree, with presents (including a suitcase-full from Sarah!)
Don’t believe what you’ve
heard about Communism in China. Sure,
the government makes centralized decisions, but the country is full of 1.3
billion – or 1.5 billion, depending on what you believe – raging capitalists.
As such, the Chinese have
gone nuts for Christmas, recognizing that it’s – for better or worse – a
commercial bonanza more than a Christian holiday.
Accordingly, Shanghai is
blanketed in Santa pictures and gaudy decorations.What’s funny is when the decorations are just slightly off, not quite what we'd see back home.
Take this kids t-shirt, for example
– “Pretty Christmas”?
Or this stencil, which was
plastered all over a local mall. “Merry Christmas 2012.”
My favorite twist, however,
is the Chinese take on the Christmas tree.
When we went to get our
1.7-meter Charlie Brown tree from the expat florist, it hadn’t been cut out of
the ground like in America.Instead, they dug it up with a shovel and wrapped a plastic bag around the roots. For a couple hundred RMB, we were headed home with a tree, giant pot, and two bags of dirt.
This is actually pretty
neat.Trees are plants, right -- so
why not put them in a pot for December, re-plant them outside from Jan-Nov, then re-use the same tree for multiple years?
Don't be upset, sir, you
are bound for blog-post glory
The Chinese have a number
of, um, *interesting* fashion trends
(don’t get me started on their maternity clothes!).
My hands-down favorite is their penchant for wearing pajamas
out in public.
Yes, pajamas, as in
full-scale sets that I really didn’t even think people actually wore
outside of
Christmas movies and the classic happy-family-type television shows I
used to watch on Nick at Night.
Gold satin, head-to-toe: perfect for a stroll in the park
The vision of Chinese
familial bliss, as displayed on oddly Caucasian mannequins
They even have entire
clothing boutiques dedicated to selling sets for the whole family.
I feel like most of their merchandise is overstock from the 1980s, but apparently this is the cutting edge in Chinese pajama fashions.
Unfortunately, my attempts
to capture this trend in photos have been less successful than I would
have liked. But it’s tricky to
whip out the iPhone, unlock it, turn on the camera mode, focus, and snap a
photo, all while attempting to be somewhat surreptitious so as not to
completely offend my subjects or embarrass myself.
Apparently his friend missed the memo
I have heard many
explanations for this trend.
One
idea is simply that pajamas are comfortable loungewear for the weekends, much like how
women in NYC run errands in their yoga outfits and in-season swimmers would live in their deck parkas if the stench didn't offend their roommates.
Another is that proper pajamas denote a certain elevated
economic and cultural class, as in “I have so much money that I can buy special
clothes just to sleep in.”
A third theory told to me by an expat friend
is that it distinguishes the “true” Shanghainese, because apparently they enacted a
law forbidding public pajama wearing, except families who had lived here
for so many generations could be grandfathered in and thus allowed to continue
showing off their nighties (and therefore, their local roots).
Pajamas + black spiked
heels = perfect for errands
Someday, I do hope to learn
the real reason(s) for this fashion phenomenon. In the meantime, I will continue to enjoy being entertained
by the public pajama-wearers, and hopefully will become more adept at
photographing this amazingness.
Shanghai represents China
the way that New York City represents the United States. Which is to say, it doesn’t. The fast pace, busy sidewalks, bright lights, international
flair – not to mention droves of tourists – make it intriguing, but I’m
sometimes left feeling that I’m getting an inauthentic experience here. I’ve been longing for something a
little more average, the Chinese equivalent of “middle America”, the towns and
people that tourists don’t typically experience.
Well, I got my wish this
past weekend when we ventured out of Shanghai with Paul, Matt’s friend and
our first guest in China.
Moganshan is a mountain 3 hours outside of Shanghai that was a popular
expat escape in the 1920s and is slowly experiencing its renaissance as a
relaxing nature retreat. As I
wandered the rustic lanes, I found myself thinking, now THIS is China. I
also found myself noticing a theme in the particular hamlet where we
stayed. Everywhere we looked,
there was bok choy on fences, herbs on grass mats, clothes on lines, wrinkles
on faces.
The whole place was
sun-dried. I couldn’t help but snap
photos of it all.
bok choy drying on bamboo poles
baskets of bok choy with a pile of dried & halved bamboo stalks
hang the laundry on one pole and the produce on another
possibly dried meat, although I didn't want to get close enough to sniff-test
Now, had I known that the map was grossly out of scale, that Paul thinks
scaling boulders is “really easy” hiking, and that the cake & cookies were
actually famously bad, I’m not sure I
would have survived the next four-plus hours of what is surely the most intense
physical activity I’ve had in the past year. But ignorance is bliss. And thus I acquired the following photos and a true sense of
accomplishment for conquering our little Cakewalk.
It began as an increasingly steep ascent out the back door of our hostel.
Due to the poorly-drawn map, we got lost a few times. Luckily, Paul is a geographer.
Occasionally the foliage would part and we'd get a nice vista of the valley.
After going over the first mountain and back down a dirt road, we began ascending our second mountain up some stone steps through a serene bamboo forest.
This led us to our second vista, from a lookout point on a rock outcropping.
Gradually, the bamboo gave way to pines and scrub and what we'd more typically think of as "forest".
Eventually, we reached the little town of Moganshan, and made our way through the streets as they crisscrossed down into the next valley. This is where we scarfed down our mediocre lunch before taking a taxi back to our hostel . . . a ride that took 30 minutes and was over 20km.
But no complaints! I loved that after many city-slicker years, Matt & I could once again pay respect to our Colorado roots by getting active outdoors. TJ was a trouper throughout the day as she took in the sights from her perch on Matt's back. And with Paul's help, when he wasn't patiently guiding us towards our destination, we even managed to snap a family photo, our first that I can think of since the hospital shoot the day after TJ was born.
Once it was all over, I was glad the hike didn't live up to it's name as a "cakewalk." I relished the challenge to remind me that I can now reclaim my inner athlete, and between the crisp mountain air and the blood pumping through my legs, I ended the hike feeling more refreshed than fatigued. Plus, I remembered, I don't even like cake...
This is the story of a meal that became an adventure.
It all began when we decided
to travel out of town for the weekend, which of course is made more dramatic
by using public transportation, bringing a baby, and being in an unfamiliar
foreign country. I don’t want to
belabor the first six or so hours of our trip, but the important part is that
we arrived at our hostel completely famished, only to find out that their
refreshments consisted of beer and snickers. This would not satisfy. Now, a wise traveler might ask the hostel caretakers for
some suggestions of where to find food, but no no, not us arrogant fools. We just ventured out towards what we
thought might be “town” and began a long and desperate journey.
searching for food
either this is a restaurant, or things are about to get awkward
After miming various acts of
eating while completely butchering the Mandarin words for restaurant, meal, food, and eat,
the local farmers pointed us up a narrow winding road with a few houses dotted
along it. One had a beer billboard
on the front and a “welcome” sign on the open door, which to us indicated that perhaps it was a
restaurant.
our hostess
We walked in to find a precocious piggy-tailed girl
playing on her computer.
I asked her – in Mandarin,
go me! – where her parents were, and she lead us back out the front door and
around the side of the building, where a woman was bent over hacking at
something. The girl indicated to
her mother that they had visitors, and Mom gathered her duck and chicken (the
“something” previously being hacked) and ushered us back into the house.
hostess, chef, and what would become our lunch in the bowl
Soon we were caught up in a
whirlwind of herbal teas and shrink-wrapped dishes and a menu of all Chinese characters and no illustrations. As I fumbled with my iPhone’s
translator apps and Matt clumsily repeated what he thought was the Mandarin
word for chicken and Paul wondered
just how much beer could quench his hunger, the Mom-turned-chef had an
epiphany. She motioned for us to
follow her through the house to the backyard, which – lo and behold – was the
kitchen!
"kitchen"
Here she thrust various
ingredients at us as we nodded in approval. Bok choy looking
vegetable? Okay, that seems to
be the town staple so it must be locally grown. Eggs? Yes, they come in their own little
containers, sanitary and harmless.
Chicken? Well, we saw the poor thing earlier so we
know that’s fresh. And with Matt’s
recollection of the Mandarin words for rice
and beer, we finalized our order.
It was nothing like we had
experienced, and yet exactly as we expected. Simple ingredients and complex flavors. Familiar tastes in novel combinations. Delicate dishes to satisfy hearty
appetites. Home cooking in
a foreign place. It was quite the
meal.
Last Sunday I went with my childhood friend Paul, who is visiting, and two
expat friends to watch the final round of the Shanghai Masters.Golf is a funny game here, as it didn’t
really exist just a few years ago and now the upwardly mobile are latching on to their clubs
as status symbols. New, ridiculously nice courses are popping up everywhere, despite the absence of serious players.
While the golf was excellent – Rory McIllroy beat Anthony
Kim in a sudden death playoff for the $2 million 1st place prize – other aspects of the
day were probably even more interesting.
Highlights included:
·John
Daly’s pants, which reminded the Chinese that they are not the only ones
who can obnoxiously fly their flags
The old guy has slimmed down a bit, and still crushes the ball.
·Unruly
Chinese spectators, many of whom have ZERO understanding of golf, which led
to them answering phones (“WEI?”), screaming at their out-of-control kids, and
snapping pictures during players’ backswings
·Colin
Montgomerie’s wife, who provided further entertainment by going ballistic at
said ignorant Chinese spectators on the 7th tee box
·The
course groundskeepers, who somehow managed to turn a course with no sod on
it just four weeks ago into a PGA-level gem (ALERT: Crazy Chinese Chemicals?)
It's scary how quickly they finished the course
·Senior
government officials, who put Rory McIllroy through the most awkward 45
minute ceremony after he won, complete with rambling speeches in Mandarin,
half naked girls playing drums a la the Blue Man Group, and repeated (unsuccessful) requests
for Rory to do the Irish Jig in front of the cameras
He might've preferred 2nd place to avoid the whole awards show
During golf? You're kidding, right?
And, last but not least…
·The
Chinese Air Force, who decided that Championship Sunday was an opportunity to trot out their new fighter jets in front of the ESPN cameras, as
they performed deafening exercises directly above the course for a solid six
hours
I
can see how someone in the government thought this was a brilliant way to show
off their military might in front of a Western audience, but having a bit of a
clue about the nature of golf might’ve led to a different decision.Or, perhaps it was John Daly’s pants
that were causing the big fuss, and the Communist Party had to assert itself.
