Adventures of Life in Beijing

Daily life

China Days

Remember when I told you life in Beijing wasn’t all pandas and dumplings? There are days when reality sets in and discouragement runs deep. We call those days “China Days.” Everything is just hard, and I feel completely incompetent. Today was one of those days.

Laundry is my nemesis. I have shed more tears over washing clothes here than I care to admit. I believe Chinese washing machines and dryers are designed for one or two articles of clothing at a time max  – Chinese-sized clothing. I’m an extra large in Chinese sizes and I’m a US size 4 if that tells you anything.

There are some cryptic well-worn labels on the machine settings, so it’s been trial and error in learning how to use them. Google Translate gives poetic-but-not-so-helpful translations likes “fast force,” and “flowing river” which I think is the rinse cycle.

Often the clothes come out of the washer dripping wet, or the dryer imparts a funky, sour smell. Sometimes the clothes refuse to come out at all, locking themselves in with a stubbornly shut door. Spending the night inside the damp washing machine does not make them cleaner than when I put them in.

This morning I checked the laundry room to see if I could pry the door open to the washing machine, as last night it wouldn’t open no matter how how hard I pulled or pounded on it. Sometimes it’s best just to walk away for awhile.

Not surprisingly, the clothes smelled terrible. I decided to wash them again, so I added some soap, pushed a button and said a little prayer.

When I checked a little later, soap bubbles were flowing out of the machine and onto the floor. I reached up above to empty the dryer, dropping some of precious clean, dry clothes into the soap bath. It would have been comical if it had been happening to someone else.

 

 

I don’t recall which words of frustration came from my mouth, but it was enough to draw my husband’s attention.

Surveying the laundry room and finding me standing in suds, he says “Wasn’t there an ‘I Love Lucy’ episode kind of like this?”

Yes, there was. Remember when Ricky and Lucy got a new washing machine and decided to sell the old one to Fred and Ethel? Well, after one load it erupted like a volcano with soap bubbles flowing everywhere.

 

A defunct washer causes a strain on Lucy and Ethel’s friendship.

 

It made for a funny episode but it almost ruined Lucy and Ethel’s friendship. Malfunctioning washing machines have been a source of tension in my family too.

“I can’t even figure out how to do laundry,” I complain to my husband.

“Why don’t you talk to the landlord?” He suggests.

“And what, tell her I’m too stupid to operate a washing machine?” No thanks. I push the “flowing river” button again, trying to rinse the soap out of this load. Going on eighteen hours later, these  are going to be the cleanest clothes ever.

I decide to go to gym to relieve some frustration, knowing full well I’m only contributing to the laundry problem with my sweaty gym clothes.

I hop on the only open treadmill but this one doesn’t speak my language.

 

 

I press a few buttons, but nothing happens. At this point, the tears are welling up in my eyes and I just want to go back to America. Or at least back to bed. I swallow my pride and ask one of the regulars (the friendly guy with the pony tail and really cool shoes) for help.

He pushes a button. “Zou,” he instructs. “Kuai! Kuai!” He urges, pushing another button causing the treadmill to take off under my feet. I’m sprinting to keep up, nodding and smiling thank you.

I find a comfortable pace and turn on my music. Why is everything that should be easy so hard? Tears are streaming down my face as I listen to  Mandissa sing ‘Stronger.’

When the waves are taking you under, hold on just a little bit longer. He knows this is gonna make you stronger, stronger.

The past eight weeks have stretched me and tested my patience in ways I never expected. It’s like raising toddlers all over again, and feeling like one myself at times. I’ve had  to count to ten often to control my temper and even given myself a timeout on occasion.

Most of the things that I find frustrating like laundry or trying to order online when I can’t type my address in Chinese and my name doesn’t fit in the space because it’s too long, are just minor inconveniences. I get that. But coupled with the stress of adapting to a new culture, trying to learn the language, missing friends from home and a shortage of warm chocolate chip cookies, they become supremely frustrating.

Revitalized from the gym, I returned to find the washer and dryer behaving themselves nicely. I folded the laundry and felt a little bit better about life.

I met some friends for lunch, which always lifts my spirits. I stopped at the store afterwards, still craving cookies. These minty ones caught my eye.

 

Chocolate always makes things better.

 

They taste kind of like Thin Mints, and that sweet reminder of home helped me make it through the afternoon.

This pain ain’t gonna last forever, it’s gonna make you stronger. Believe me this is gonna make you stronger, strongerGonna make you stronger, stronger, stronger.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Walk in the Park

If you want a glimpse of Chinese culture, head to a local park. Tucked away between high rise buildings and busy motorways, neighborhood parks are the lifeblood that runs through the heart of Beijing.

Such beauty in Ritan Park.

So much life takes place in these multi-functional spaces. Of course you will find people exercising, and built-in gym equipment is common.

Sometimes they take a quick smoke break between reps, but who am I to judge? At least they are here.

Walking and running are also popular past times, and many parks have a circular loop for this purpose.

Parks are a great place to log a few miles, just don’t forget to follow the flow – counter clockwise.

In addition to running, you will find locals practicing tai chi, yoga, jumping rope, hula hooping, lifting weights, and dancing.

Love watching the couples dance.

Morning stretching at the park.

Parks also serve as a place for social gatherings. People read or meditate. Men bring their pet birds in little cages and hang them in the trees. Some parks  have ping pong tables and built in Mah Jong tables.

How about a game of Ping Pong? Just bring your own paddle and balls.

You can bring your own snack, or buy one.

Enjoying some watermelon after exercising.

Parks are a place where traditional culture is preserved, including architecture, physical activity and more.

This group gathers to sing about the beauty of the flowers.

There are a few rules to follow though, which takes some getting used to. No sunbathing, bike riding, playing ball, picking flowers or talking on your cell phone during a thunderstorm.

 

And most importantly, stay off the grass. There are so many lovely green spaces in Beijing, but grass is off limits.

 

 

Carnival rides and water parks coexist with centuries-old traditions at many parks, and this blending of ancient and modern is such a reflection of Beijing as a city.

There’s nothing like a walk in the park.

 

 

 

Crying over Fried Lotus Root

Trying to fit in takes a toll. My husband’s electric toothbrush, whose prongs became bent when he tried to plug the charger into an adapter that was just a little too snug, is useless now.

Our espresso machine, carefully packed in its original box and sent by air with our high priority items, quit brewing  after just a few shots. We think it was shocked to death after accidentally being connected to a high-voltage Chinese outlet rather than the transformer we brought from home.

I can sympathize. Sometimes I feel bent, squeezed and frazzled by being plugged into a foreign culture and being expected to perform my normal tasks, just like the espresso machine. Sometimes the frustration of simple everyday tasks brings me to tears.

But giving up is not an option, so the boys and I set out to buy a new electric toothbrush and a replacement espresso machine. Now we have two of each, a non-working US model and a functioning Chinese version.

 

The outing was going pretty smoothly until we stopped for a snack. (If you have teenagers you know it’s always time to stop for a snack). I wanted them to try one of my favorites, deep-fried lotus root stuffed with meat. Imagine just the right amount of seasoned pork sandwiched between two wagon wheel-shaped slices of lotus root, similar in texture to potatoes with a slightly nutty taste. Then fry the whole thing to a golden brown. It’s kind of like eating a hamburger and fries all in one bite.

Lotus root stuffed with pork and deep-fried is delicious

Since I have teenagers, and “snack” really means “meal,” we ordered a bowl of stir-fried pork over rice too.

So ordering food in a different language in a crowded food court at lunch time is stressful. Mostly I point to the pictures and say how many I want, using my fingers to help clarify. Except in Chinese even counting on your fingers is different.

One through five isn’t so hard but it gets tricky after that.

I’m reduced to  a toddler. I feel like everyone is staring at me and wondering why I can’t just use my words. It goes like this:

Me: I want two of these (lotus root) and one of those (pork dish).

Server: Has two per order (pointing out that crispy lotus root always comes in a pair.) You want one, she corrects.

Me: I want two orders – four total, I repeat. They are like Oreos, three of us cannot possibly share two, especially when teenagers are involved. We each get one and fight over the fourth.

Server: ok, ok, ok, she says. She’s  in a hurry to scan my phone for payment and move on to the next customer who clearly knows how to order properly.

I step aside and wait for my order while the line grows. A second server hands me my tray. One bowl of pork and two fried lotus roots. A pair.

I take the tray over to the boys, my exasperation growing. I hand over the pork and let them have the hot, crispy lotus root because that’s what moms do.

I look at the line and almost give up. But they’re really really good. I take a deep breath and get back in line, practicing Chinese phrases in my head while I wait.

Me: please give me another order, I say pointing to the line item for lotus root on my receipt.

Server: please sit, your food is coming.

Me: no, I want another one of these.

Server: Sit, sit. Your food is coming. She’s practically shooing me away from the counter.

My despair is mounting when Server number two steps in and translates my feeble Chinese to Server one.

Server: Oh, you want another one? She repeats exactly what I just said. I almost weep with relief as she punches in my order with a big smile and scans my phone. Success!

One order of lotus root is 5 Kuai  (about 75 cents). My phone pings and I see a receipt for 28 Kuai pop up just as server number two hands me my tray -with another bowl of pork and an order of fried lotus root.

My language failed me again. I sit down with the boys and pick up a hot stuffed lotus root, holding back tears. I contemplate asking for a take-out container so we can bring the pork home, but it’s just too much.

Just like the toothbrush and espresso machine that I brought from home, my language doesn’t work here. I need the Chinese version. My tutor starts next week. One of the first things I want to conquer is ordering from the menu, especially things that come in pairs.

In the meantime, I think I’ll fire up our new Chinese espresso machine and brew up the perfect shot in my favorite cup I brought from home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Disconnected

I woke up the other morning hoping to check Facebook, scroll through Instagram and check my email with my morning coffee.

Nope. Not happening. I wasn’t able to get connected.

While I knew this was to be expected, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I wanted to know that someone was out there, thinking of me and cheering me on.  I wanted to hear news from home, to see a familiar slice of life in your pictures and posts.

Feeling cut off left me frustrated and sad, kind of like there was party going on and everyone was having fun but I wasn’t able to get there.

Remember the first time you went on a trip and left your family behind? Sure it’s fun and exciting but you felt like something was missing. That’s how I felt.

So as my mood spiraled downward, I put on my walking shoes and headed out, hoping a change of scenery and some endorphins would help. With my earphones in, I cranked up the music and headed in the direction of a local park.

The English street signs are so helpful.

I felt better as soon as I got out the door. The new sights around me flooded my brain, launching me into my vibrant present reality, temporarily interrupting the feelings of homesickness.

 

On the way to the park.

Ritan Park, also known as Temple of the Sun Park was a flurry of activity, with people walking, running, practicing tai chi and yoga.

 

Entrance to Ritan Park, dating from the 16th century.

 

The park buzzes with activity in the morning.

 

Bright flowers everywhere.

There were spirited games of badminton and ping pong taking place, traditional dancing, stretching and even a man playing a saxophone.

All kinds of exercise, from hula hooping to badminton takes place in the parks.

 

Ping pong is seriously competitive here.

 

In a high density city like Beijing where living space comes at a premium, parks become gathering spots, exercise arenas and dance halls. It’s colorful, lively and uplifting to watch.

I left the park in a much better mood, which spilled over into the rest of the day. I became more focused on what was happening here, in my new life. To be honest, it’s exhausting to try to split my emotions between two different countries. It’s an uncomfortable stretch, like doing the splits. (I speak from experience – I could do them when I was a kid). Sometimes it’s easier to disconnect, emotionally and electronically for awhile.

I made a few stops on the way home to buy some things for breakfast, carrying on short conversations in my childlike Chinese and navigating payments on my phone with WeChat. With each stop I felt more successful and less disconnected. The feeling of missing out was still there, but not quite as strong. The more I get plugged into my new Chinese life, the better things will be.

In my next post, I’ll share one of the high points of living here: the food. You won’t want to miss it.