Tough Girl

This was supposed to be a post about how TJ is such a tough little kid.

I had planned to host a playgroup last Wednesday.  The eight babies span a one-month age difference, with TJ representing the midpoint (believe it or not, she’s one of three in the group with the exact same birthday!).  She’s also the only girl, and perhaps because of this, one of the smaller babies in the group.  Despite these facts, she is the resident bruiser.  At our last gathering in December, while the boys peacefully sat on their moms' laps or lay on the floor, she sat on her own, leaning over her playmates to snatch toys right out of their hands and/or mouths.  This was before she was crawling.  Now that she only operates in two modes -- standing and grabbing, or bee-lining on hands & knees -- I can only imagine what havoc she will wreak on the poor boys at our next play-date.  Since I was hosting, I thought I’d grab my camera and snap this wild woman in action for you all to witness.

But alas, my plans were foiled.  TJ woke up in vomit on Wednesday morning, and things deteriorated rather rapidly.  I’ll spare you the gruesome details, but by the end of it we had made four trips to the pediatric unit at the nearest expat hospital, we had a dining table full of various pharmaceuticals, TJ had endured a range of blood tests, and received diagnoses including cold virus, blocked sinus membranes, double ear infections, and mostly a nasty gastrointestinal bug.  At its worst, in a moment I hope to never repeat as a parent, we had to rush TJ over to the hospital for her to be rehydrated via IV.  After that, she slowly began improving.  We spent a day on the couch to recuperate, where she continually slept on my chest, too weak to sit up or even stay awake for longer than thirty minutes.  Still, she had ceased vomiting, was able to breathe through her nose, and was back to nursing.  We were on the mends.

Then the bug hit me.  I woke up in the middle of the night victim to the same stomach virus.  TJ now had to endure her mama staying in bed for two days, unable to breastfeed due to her own dehydration, unable to allow her too close lest she projectile vomit once again and send TJ into a fit of screams, unable to cuddle away the alternating looks of horror and confusion as she attempted to understand what was wrong with this person who suddenly wasn’t so familiar anymore.

Through it all, I must say, she’s been a champ.  Experiencing vomiting – and then dry heaving – for the first time almost without complaint.  Handling the doctors poking and prodding and frantically searching for a non-collapsing vein.  During the hour and half with an IV hooked up to her arm.  Enduring the many many many syringes of medicine I’ve had to force down her throat.  Persevering through myriad trials and tribulations of feeding.  Continuing to seek cuddles even when mama became a monster and daddy was a bundle of stress, dealing with two sick ladies and a huge pile of work.

I think this still might be a post about how TJ is a tough little kid.

Ghosts of the Future

Yesterday the Weis went off in search of good ol’ fashioned American barbecue.  (You’d think we would’ve gotten our fix of American food while on vacation last week, but apparently not.)  Matt met a guy awhile back who manages a Texas barbecue joint here, so armed with his business card to guide us, we set out for some pulled pork and buffalo wings.

And they were delicious!  But that, my friends, is not the point of this story.  The restaurant is tucked into a residential neighborhood that was created around the time of – and because of – the 2010 World Expo held in Shanghai.  So after lunch, we decided to take a stroll through the old expo grounds.

In true China fashion, the Expo set all of the records for grandiosity: largest site, most countries participating, most visitors*, and highest price tag.  Shanghai tore down hundred of factories and shipyards along the river, and displaced tens of thousands of people by leveling their neighborhoods to clear space for the many expo pavilions. 

Ironically, just a year and a half after the Expo ended, many of those pavilions have now been destroyed as well, clearing the way for the next wave of development.  However, enough is left for us to still get a sense of just how ridiculously gigantic this production was.  Walking through the old expo grounds today is eerie; the juxtaposition of futuristic architecture and abandoned spaces connotes a post-apocalyptic space-station.  The overcast day and scarce fellow sightseers only contributed to the sensation that we had travelled through time to an alternate universe.

We began our journey when we stumbled into this lovely garden, abandoned save for a chain-smoking cleaning crew.

moonboat & China Pavilion in the background

We then saw the giant “moonboat” – no idea what it’s for, but it was one of the few buildings that appeared to still be occupied.

apparently moon + boat = palm trees on the roof (deck?)

get married in a flying saucer!

We walked through the giant complex for the Mercedes Benz Arena, a top-notch facility that seats 20k people but, due to lack of demand, now advertises that you can rent it out for weddings.  Matt has read that the arena hosts only about a half dozen events per year – what a waste!

We passed by the main thoroughfare of the grounds, which alternated tents reminiscent of DIA and funnels reminiscent of the coin-collecting jars in 1990s fast food restaurants.

Hey TJ, photo proof that we took you to the expo!

We had to stop and take a posed photo in front of the China Pavilion, because apparently that is the thing to do.  We didn’t see too many people on our little tour today, but the most we did see were orbiting this structure to take photos.  We even saw a family park their car in the middle of the street (there was almost no traffic) and get out so that the grandparents could hold their infant granddaughter with the China Pavilion in the background while the dad snapped photos.

map of Expo grounds along Huangpu River

After winding our way through the expo site from back to front, we came across a collection of maps and directories to help guide visitors at the entrance.  We delighted in studying the map of the entire grounds, because it seems that whoever was in charge of placing individual country pavilions had quite the sense of humor.  We found Israel’s pavilion surrounded by militant Islamic countries, while North Korea and Iran nestled into neighboring pavilions that were removed from the others.  And then there was Japan, the one country out of 200+ that was given a site on the opposite side of the river.

Finally, we hopped onto a new subway line and headed home.  As silly as the whole expo site now seems – what a waste of time, money, manpower, and materials for a temporary entertainment venue! – I am thankful that Shanghai hosted this event just a year before we moved here.  In addition to this wasteland we toured today, the Expo led to the construction of several new subway lines, added a fleet of clean taxis (with seatbelts!) to the streets, and plastered the city in English translations.  In this way, the Expo did live up to its slogan: “Better City, Better Life.”

*Also done in true China fashion: after failing to hit admissions targets for the first half of the Expo, they sent buses out to random rural villages, loaded everyone on, brought them to Shanghai, and had them walk through the turnstiles.  Win for record-breaking visitors!

Severe Weather Alert

After two blissful weeks of vacation in Hawaii, we had to return to the less balmy climates from which we came.  Our families were greeted in Denver by two feet of fresh snow that had threatened to cancel their flights, but luckily the airport was able to handle the storm.  Meanwhile, our little Shanghai-bound trio returned to a city in crisis.

The Shanghai Daily newspaper’s headline warned residents that the weather bureau had issued a severe alert, apparently of the lowest (=worst) level on the weather scale.  The government mandated that the state-run power and water companies should secure extra supplies for residents, who were asked to independently prepare themselves for this incoming weather catastrophe.  More than 80 flights were cancelled, delayed, or rerouted, affecting tens of thousands of air travelers.  Maritime authorities warned all ships to take special precautions as they entered or exited Shanghai’s bustling port.

What extreme meteorological patterns created such a fuss?  A little fog (which to my eye appeared far less hazy than the typical smog engulfing this city), and temperatures approaching a frosty zero degrees . . . Celsius. 

Aaand welcome back to China.

Chinese New Year

Since we published the many blunders in Christmas decorations around Shanghai, it’s only fair that we present you with the beauty of the biggest traditional holiday here: Chinese New Year.  We missed much of this celebration with our vacation to Hawaii, but we still got to enjoy the decorations around town before we left. 

My favorites were what I nicknamed “the twelve days of new years” around our apartment complex.  It seemed like every morning in January when TJ and I headed out, there was a new decoration added to the entryway.  By the time we left for Hawaii, we had fireworks, chili peppers, gold coins, gold fish (plastic, not real!), scrolls, lanterns and even real orange bushes greeting us in front of our building.

twelve chili peppers,

many firecrackers,

five gold fish,

... and some hongbao in an orange tree

Baby Wearing

For my sister-in-law, a big fan and currently near-constant practitioner of baby-wearing, I have discovered the Chinese version of this practice:

see the little blue hat with white pom-pom?

Yep, that's a baby, wrapped in a sleeping bag, stuffed into a big basket, strapped to his mother's back.

Fabric Market: Adventures in Shopping

Yesterday, TJ and I headed down to the fabric market.  My main objective of this trip wasn’t to capture photos or stories; it was to collect the clothes that I had commissioned for our upcoming Hawaiian vacation.  However, I did manage to snap a few pictures to share this experience with you.

The fabric market was not in its finest form yesterday, as both vendors and customers are already disappearing for the Chinese New Year holidays.  To give you a sense of the madness, though, I’ll share this little anecdote: I took my friend and super-shopper Sarah to the market, and 30 minutes later she was looking for the exit.  Knowing that I tend to develop heart palpitations after five minutes in a mall, Sarah was in disbelief that I enjoyed "shopping" here.  What can I say, I’m settling in I guess!

The market consists of six floors, each housing maybe one hundred little stalls arranged in an illogical maze-like pattern.  Stalls tend to specialize in a fabric or style.  Some simply sell bolts of fabric wholesale, supplying the tailors with a wider selection than each vendor could possibly carry independently.  Some sell premade scarves, belts, gloves, and other accessories.  Some are proper tailors who custom-sew men’s suits or shirts to order.  Some copy western fashions, from outerwear (leather or cashmere coats) to ladies’ fashions such as Mad Men inspired dresses, prom-like ensembles, and an array of blouses and cardigans.  It tends to run the gamut from current fashions to terribly ugly and out-of-date oddities, with some Chinese styles thrown in for good measure.  Generally, they can recreate their own samples, produce a nearly perfect replica of any item you bring in, or work from a photo you supply from the internet or a magazine.  On the upper floors there are specialty shops dedicated to zippers, buttons, and other detailing, so that you can theoretically pick out your trims, find your fabric, and then take it all to a third shop where the tailor will create your unique piece.  The prices are cheap (<$15 for custom fit men's dress shirt) and everything is negotiable, making the fabric market the perfect place for me to practice my haggling skills in Mandarin.  Mini-lesson of the day: tai gui le = “too expensive!”

endless fabric options

fabric for dress shirts

the scarf shops remind me of the street-corner stands in NYC

suits galore

hideous "western" fashions are instant time-travel

Chinese silks, Chinese styles

The whole experience sounds ridiculous for one simple piece of clothing: choose a stall, design an item, pick fabrics and closures, have measurements taken, negotiate the price, return a week later, check fit and quality, final measurements and negotiations, and walk away with your new clothes.  For a person who detests shopping, I’m really not sure how this has become appealing to me.  I think perhaps it’s because the fabric market makes shopping a big adventure, an exploration of a Chinese subculture that is both seedy and extravagant at the same time.  And the one-of-a-kind, perfectly fitting, and reasonably priced pieces I now have are little pearls harvested after much patience and persistence.  You can see my gray cashmere winter coat that has been keeping out the Shanghai chill here.  Stay tuned for a post-Hawaii blog post to witness more fabric market creations!

Just Another Morning at Fuxing Park

I’ve written shamefully few blog posts lately.  Part of that is due to a child who suddenly doesn’t remember how to be still; it’s tricky to write when TJ is constantly crawling towards some new danger that we hadn’t yet predicted and properly baby-proofed.

But another factor is my lack of inspiration recently.  Dare I say that life has become fairly routine and predictable?  It took a visit from a non-resident -- my friend Sarah who flew all the way from NYC to be with us for the holidays -- to remind me that there is plenty here to write about.  Perhaps my bearings are shifting, because what I now consider familiar and common was a source of awe, laughter, quizzical expressions, and photo opportunities for Sarah.  One weekday morning, she accompanied TJ and I on our standard stroll, and I introduced her to the daily activities of Fuxing Park.

Upon entering, we hear the sound of one of a handful of choirs singing (this one is accompanied by an accordion).  They have lyrics or a song list or some sort of instructions hanging up to the right.  Sometimes these singers approach the harmonies of a church choir, but more typically it sounds like a karaoke bar with well-lubricated patrons.

We then approach the large lawn in the center of the park, which in the fall was filled with kite-fliers and student bottle rocket competitions on the weekend.  But the winter sport of choice is some sort of two-handed yoyo with a whirring/zooming noise that can be balanced on a string, spun around, tossed into the air, and even passed between fellow players.

We stroll past many tables of men playing mah jongg.  Some of these men appear to be old, perhaps retired.  But many are younger, and definitely fit, as is proven when they break into physical fights over some sort of game-related drama. So why aren't they working?  I actually wonder this of most park inhabitants, but it strikes me particularly with the card players, because clusters of these gamblers can be found tucked all over the city streets, all day long.

 

Then it's on to the group playing badminton without a net.

Sidenote: it's extremely difficult to photograph a sport with super-thin racquets and tiny darting shuttlecocks.  Apologies, but hopefully you get the gist.

 

Next we circle around to the man writing beautiful calligraphy on the sidewalk with a long brush dipped in water.  He writes in the traditional vertical style (here actually viewed from upside-down) and I'm guessing it's some sort of poetry, but I have no idea.  This man has many admirers who come by to read his creations before they evaporate and disappear.  I love the impermanence of these messages; it reminds me of the sand artist in Wash Square.

 

One of the most popular park activities is ballroom dancing.  From small group lessons with coaches to huge flash-mobs united only by a boom-box, dancers are everywhere.  I love seeing women (typically of the older generation) changing into their special dance shoes, the worn heels and scuffed toes revealing years of dedication to this hobby.  I also marvel at how this is both sport and social engagement; I've observed many (seeming) strangers who begin dancing solo at the fringes and are eventually invited to pair up with a random partner.  Here we have a well organized group practicing a set routine with impressive synchronization.

Throughout our wanderings, we encounter many people "exercising".  I use this term loosely because although I do believe the intention is physical wellness, most of the actions of the park inhabitants do not resemble our own ideas of what exercise looks like.  First of all, gym clothes do not appear to exist.  A few nights ago when we saw a man jogging in a blazer, Matt joked that this puts a whole new spin on "sport coat".  But mostly, the differences are in the actions that constitute the exercises.  Unfortunately, most of these don't photograph well: walking backwards, walking in slo-mo, walking while humming and clapping, statuesque poses.  Here's the best I could capture on camera: one man shrugging repeatedly under a tree, and another swinging his arms so as to violently beat his chest and back.

Let's not forget martial arts.  The couple on the left were a treat because I've rarely seen this done as a tandem act, and the woman on the right was one of Sarah's favorites due to her hot pink satin ensemble (you can't tell from the photo, but she had the yin/yang symbol on her sneakers -- awesome).  She also maintained remarkable focus, considering her choice of location was smack in the middle of a busy walkway.

Sadly, there are many more activities that Sarah and I failed to photograph: the dilapidated amusement park, the synchronized maracas-shakers, the fan dancers, the samurai-sword spinners, the hushed reading and knitting circles, the potty training toddlers with exposed bottoms, and the myriad of people staring at TJ in her stroller as if she is the most eccentric sight in the park.

Thank you Sarah for contributing some of the photographs for this post.  And for reminding us that we live in an absolutely crazy place.