Surprise!

I love surprises. To me, they communicate that someone took the time to think of me, and I'm all about quality time. Thankfully my parents like surprises too, because I gave them a big one last night by showing up three days early.

Here's the story - about a month ago, my uncle passed away unexpectedly. My mom's sister passed away last summer (2008) and her other sister also passed away a few years ago this time of year. So this year marks the first without anyone with my mom's side of the family coming for Thanksgiving, which we celebrate on the weekend.

When all this happened I thought, "Our tickets were free (paid for by the company and frequent flier miles). Why don't I spend a little and change my ticket so I can be back with them for Thanksgiving?" So I got my brother to come pick me up at the airport and we were set.

It was hard not to mention it to my mom, especially when she said on the phone last week, "Maybe we should just wait until you guys get back to celebrate."
"No, no you shouldn't. You should do it on Sunday," was my response.

The flight from China is SO much nicer than coming all the way from Singapore. I got on at 5:30 p.m., so after dinner it was almost time to sleep. I normally don't sleep much on the flight because we used to leave at 6 a.m. from Singapore, but I think I got in about 4 hours. I went through customs in Chicago, which was slick. There was no line! And I always enjoy when the customs worker says to me, "Welcome home." It's honesty one of the only times in my life when I am very conscious of being American.

I had a great drive home with my brother and enjoyed the excitement my parents and sister had at seeing me. It's a beautiful day here in Minnesota and I'm glad I can spend it with my family!

The Official Car of Injustice

One question the Chinese government neglected to include on the driver's examination study guide was:

If a Black Audi pulls a bonehead, life threatening move on the road, should you:
1. Honk loudly
2. Call the police and report it
3. Force the driver off the road and yell at him
4. Nothing. It's a Black Audi.

The correct answer is #4. Perhaps wrapped into the price of the car is a get out of jail and traffic violations free card for Audi drivers. We're not sure, but whatever it is, people driving Black Audis seem to feel they own the roads and are entitled to constant right of way. You shouldn't cross a Black Audi. It is the official car of injustice in China.

I found this out the hard way tonight. My friend and I were walking our five kids to a nearby restaurant. A car was pulling up onto the sidewalk where we were. Once he cleared a concrete telephone pole, he sped ahead, coming dangerously close to the kids and me. Close enough that it was no effort for me to reach out and smack my hand against the car to demonstrate our closeness and my frustration.

At first it seemed nothing would happen, but soon he slowed down and got out of his car. He unfortunately happened to be one of the few Chinese men who can tower over me. In fact he was quite large. And quite angry. He began to come toward me quickly, and immediately two nearby men grabbed both his arms and held him back while he stood about a foot and a half from me and yelled in my face. At the same time, his wife came and stood to my left, yelling at me. I told them they were not being careful of the children, but it was obvious that no amount of reasoning on my part was going to make them suddenly feel remorseful and apologetic.

Normally situations like that completely unsettle me. But when I realized there was nothing I could do, I became very calm and just walked away (with my friend, who was wisely herding the kids away from the angry Chinese man). I expected my heart to be racing and my body to be shaking, but I was fine. Very weird.

When I told Erik the story in the restaurant, he said, "Was it a Black Audi?" I didn't realize until that moment that it was. No wonder he was furious - how dare a puny little foreigner call him on something? He's untouchable! Next time I'll check what kind of car it is before I call people on their crazy driving.

Let it snow!

We have lived in Asia for 10 years and 3 months. Up until two weeks ago, here is all the snow we have seen outside of Minnesota:

The Great Snowfall of November 2002 (Ethan trying to enjoy the snow before it gets swept away by ambitious sweepers)

The Great Snowfall of November 2003 (Megan not really enjoying the snow, but smiling briefly for the camera).
I think one other time there was a light dusting. But here we are in the middle of our third snowfall in two weeks. The first time was several inches. The second time was six! This time, it's still too early to say.

Thankfully, co-op is canceled today so we can just enjoy the snow. It's one of those days when I love the part of town we live in because the park across the street is a beautiful winter wonderland, and the courtyard is a giant playground for the kids. There is an army of snowmen out in the courtyard. They've even built up a big enough pile to make a tunnel! This morning they were playing hide and seek by following each others' tracks. Ethan was clever and walked backwards to confuse his friends. They were so busy they didn't come in for lunch until 12:30, and now they're back out again. Let it snow!

This is the picture you get when you tell the kids to say "snow!"

Something happened to me today for the second time in my life, something I never imagined would happen even once: my kitchen cabinets fell down. Thankfully, this time they didn't fall completely off like the first time. That was back in our first year here, when we moved into an apartment that was an empty concrete shell. The kitchen initially had only the old Chinese yellow cabinets that are knee high, with nothing on the walls. Ok, maybe not knee high, but they might as well have been for how useful they were. So we had some cabinets made. And apparently the workers didn't anticipate us actually putting anything IN the cabinets because the second we did, they fell down. They conveniently had already left for Chinese New Year break, so our cabinets sat in our dining room for a good month before someone could come back and reinstall them.

Fast forward 10 years to another apartment in China. This afternoon, I heard a crack. I thought the kids had dropped something, but they both plead not guilty. Later, when we went into the kitchen to wash the dishes, we noticed that the cabinet doors didn't line up anymore, and the bottom of the cabinets was hanging precariously low. We tried using our tripod to boost it back up (of course without all its contents) but it was reluctant to bear the weight. Erik went into our neighbor's backyard and found a discarded two by four left over from making their deck. The workers had left their circular saw behind so Erik was able to cut the 2x4 to the exact length needed. How convenient! So our cabinets are being supported by a piece of wood, and all the contents have been transferred to something that is resting on solid ground.

Ah, China. I shake my head and laugh. Do these kind of things happen anywhere else?

That's not how we roll

Erik and I have been looking into buying a used car. We've been doing this with a fair bit of trepidation because we've heard used cars can be sketchy. Honestly, we've never bought a used car (the new car we bought in Singapore is the only one we've ever bought!) so we don't know what we're doing. We've hit a few used car lots but haven't found what we want.

The car we'd really like is called a Freeca. We have friends who own one (it's actually passed through three families of people we know) and they like it alot. We found two used Freecas at a lot in the south of town, so we borrowed a car and headed down there. Let me tell you a little bit about how things work at a Chinese used car lot. It might be different than what you have experienced in the States.

First of all, when you drive into a used lot, you will be inundated with people trying to buy YOUR car. I can't say how tempting it is to sell someone else's car, especially when you know they are actually trying to sell it. But we refrained.

We have yet to find someone who knew how to operate the car they were trying to sell. Rear defroster? No, that's a light! (No, sir, it's a rear defroster).

Safety standards are what we'd call "wanquan bu yiyang." (completely different). I kept examining the cars to see if the seatbelts worked or even existed. In one car that had two rows of back seats, there were none. I mentioned this to the woman and she said, "Shui yong?" (Who uses seatbelts??)

The whole idea of showing the car off well to the customer is a bit lost here. In one car, there was a jump seat in the back that was folded down. I asked the woman if she could put it up for me. She fiddled around for awhile trying to put the middle row down so she could do that, but she couldn't (see point #2). Finally she said, "It looks just like this one."
"Well, I'm going to have to see it."
"You can do it yourself when you buy it."
"How can I do it when you can't do it?"
Finally her friend who was smoking came over to help, leaning her cigarette precariously into the car while she did. I thought, "Lady, you might want to avoid leaving the smell and ashes from that thing IN the car" but I don't think it crossed her mind.

We did find a car called the Great Wall Hover, which we may buy new instead. Finding a used model was intriguing enough that we asked the man if we could test drive it. His response? "Are you going to buy it today?"
"Well, we don't know. We need to drive it first."
"Let's decide a price first. Then you can drive it."
"But we don't know if we want to buy it unless we drive it."
He was unmoved. So was the car. But we were moved to leave.

One thing I will say is that all the cars there look great from the outside. All of them were shiny and clean, even if inside some of them looked like they were 30 years old. I think we'll be buying new, but it was an interesting experience.

Is that really necessary?

Last year when we arrived in the States on November 24th, from Singapore, it was 45 degrees. And our tropically grown son walked into my parents house, took off his coat, stripped down to his t-shirt, and unzipped the bottom half of his pants so he was in shorts again. We warned him that he would be cold. Eventually he did put pants and a long sleeved shirt on, but later he went out on the back porch with no socks on. I thought, "I guess he won't have any problems adjusting to the weather!"

I think I was wrong.

Yesterday, it was supposed to be 50 degrees. The kids went outside in the morning, and two seconds later Ethan came back inside "freezing!" He went back out 15 minutes later wearing: long underwear, two pairs of pants, two long sleeved shirts, his winter coat, gloves, a neck gaiter, a hat, and his ski goggles. Over the course of the next hour, he progressively came back to strip off bits until he was done to something more reasonable. I don't know what he's going to do today - it's just started snowing.

Answer: add snow pants, go outside, come back in complaining that you need better mittens.

While my native land of Minnesota is coping with record snowfall in October and chilly temps, I have to admit I am enjoying the longer fall we have here. We sit at the same latitude as Columbus, Ohio, and up until today have been hovering in the low 70's/high 60's. That's a bit higher than normal, and supposedly we will be experiencing the 50's for the next week (although a predicted 68 next Friday). Now, I know that sounds pretty warm to people in the frozen tundra of the north, but when I went to put on clothes this morning, I reached for my wool sweater. Why? Because 55 degrees outside mean 55 degrees outside. That's not because we're too cheap to turn on our heat. It's because we don't have any. At least not until the government decides we do.

The Chinese government controls when the heat gets turned on here. Officially I believe it has to be on by November 15th. Sometimes it comes on earlier, depending on your complex (maybe a good reason to pay your management fees). But I like to think that at some point, a government official says, "Wang xian sheng, KAI SHI!" (Mr. Wang, begin!), some crusty old guy shuffles over to a giant switch, and poof! We all have heat. On March 15th, the same ritual happens in reverse. So much power for one little man. (I realize this isn't how it happens, but it amuses me to imagine it as such, so don't spoil it for me).

So until November 15th, or some time around then, we are subject to whatever the weather is outside.

Haiku for Squatties

I was "inspired" the other day to compose a haiku in honor of China's most common form of toilet: the squattie. Not only are these holes in the ground more difficult to maneuver for Westerners, most of whom have not retained the ability to squat flat footed as Asians can (one benefit of daily use of the squattie), but they are often not kept as clean as one might appreciate. Squatties are why God gave us a non-olfactory breathing passage.

I composed the Haiku in Mandarin, but realized this morning that it works in English as well. I'll write the pinyin first:

Wei sheng jian zainar?
Zhi you zheyang de ce suo
Wo xiang wo hui deng

Translation:
Where is the bathroom?
Only this kind of toilet
I will just hold it.

Forgive me, Mandarin speakers, if my grammar is poor. Call it creative license.

The Half

As some of you know, I ran in the BJ Marathon last Sunday. I took the "half the distance, twice the fun" way out and only ran the 1/2 instead of the full. I started training back in June, and have enjoyed many long runs along the canal by my house. It's a beautiful place to run, especially these days as the leaves on the slope down to the water are all changing. It looks like the hills are on fire.

But I digress. My training went well until about a month ago, when I couldn't ignore the pain in my left heel anymore. I was sure I'd have to quite the race. Then I called a woman here who has a great deal of experience and education in healthcare, and her exact words were, "Gina, you're running long distances. When you run long distances, your feet hurt." Her recommendation: ice and new shoes. The ice was good. The new shoes gave me blisters. Chalk up a few more missed runs while those healed.

My biggest hiccup came when I got an email at 5 p.m. one day that said, "We've had a problem with your registration. If you don't contact us by noon today, we will delete your information from our system." The email had been sent the night before. So I called their number and asked to speak to someone in English, knowing full well that I would not be able to communicate what I wanted in Mandarin. The poor man on the other end must have been wishing he didn't speak English by the end of our conversation. He started by giving me the very cultural, "Sorry, there's nothing I can do" response. By the end of the conversation, he was saying, "Ok, calm down. I will do my best to get you reinstated." And he did. Thank you Jerry, from the BJ Marathon Office. I sincerely apologize for verbally haranguing you.

Back on track, I was feeling pretty good about the race. My goal was to finish under 2 hours. The great thing was, even if I didn't, making a PR for this record was a guarantee since last year it took me about 2 1/2 hours to run/walk it. According to my inike training program, which tells me my pace, distance, and time, I was on track to finish in about 1:58.

The day of the race I woke up, joined my three running companions (my husband and two friends from my complex) and had another friend drive us down to Tian'anmen Square. The runners were organized in clumps according their race: we had to push (quite literally) our way through the mini-marathon runners, and the 9K runners, until we broke out into the open area for 1/2 marathoners. After the guy next to us had his pre-race smoke, we were off. The first 1/2 mile we had to dodge discarded disposable rain jackets people had been wearing to keep warm. Me, I wore long socks on my arms until I got too hot (thanks for the tip Tammy!).

Since Erik had to leave for Hong Kong that afternoon, he didn't have time to run the entire race. So, being the gracious and encouraging man he is, he offered to run with me instead of loping off into the distance. It was a bit boring for him, since I run so much slower, and because I had my ipod on. At one point he struck up a conversation with a guy from Iowa. Only my husband makes friends while running a race.

Erik was supposed to run with me until mile 9 or 10, when we ran past our house. At mile 8 or so, he went to get water and never came back! I kept waiting for him to sprint up to me. I couldn't figure it out. But I had to keep running, so I had to rely on the cheers from the sidelines. And they were legion! Granted, most of the people watching were either people who happened to be passing by and decided to stop and gawk at the runners, or people who were just on their regular route to work and got blocked for a few hours. Still, even those people had their cell phones out taking pictures and videotaping. Because why not kill some time while waiting? Many people though were chanting the traditional "jia you" (pronounced 'jah yoh') which means "add oil!", clapping, and giving us thumbs up. I found a few of my own personal cheer squad (my kids and our friends) around mile 9-10. It kept a smile on my face most of the way.

But then came the 10-12 mile loop. Along that route, there were no bystanders, and I began to start having those, "Why on EARTH am I doing this??" thoughts. I also began to realize that my inike program was not as accurate as I'd hoped. At the 10K mark it had been dead on, but it was telling me I was nearing the end, and I really wasn't.

As I came around the corner for the last stretch, it announced, "Congratulations! You've reached your goal!" but the finish line was nowhere in sight. It was more than disappointing to run the last MILE without music, fully knowing that though my inike had told me I'd finished in under 2 hours, that would not actually be the case.

I finished in 2:07:14. Certainly better than last year, and better than the 2:10 I initially anticipated before I started training. I caught up with my friends and, after doing a short interview for a local TV station, we took the subway home. All in all, a good experience. And just like labor, I vowed for the first 24 hours that I would never, ever, do that again. But now I'm thinking, "So next year . . . "

Memory Lane

Last night Megan asked me if I knew my mother's parents when I was little. I didn't have the fortune of knowing my grandmother, as she died long before I was born, but I do have many fond memories of my grandpa John, and weekends spent at his house.

So I began to tell Megan about my grandpa. I told her what his house looked like (strikingly similar in layout to my parent's current house). I told her about the box in the basement next to the TV that always had peanut m&m's or chocolate stars, and how we'd try to sneak them without anyone hearing. I told her about eating dinner on Friday nights at the mom and pop root beer stand at the corner, where we'd always have corn dogs (and root beer, of course). I told her that my grandpa's refrigerator always had 20 kinds of soda, and that we would eat Alphabits for breakfast with half and half poured over it, and braunswauger sandwiches on white bread for lunch. But best of all, I told her, were the mornings my grandpa made pancakes, sausage and bacon for everyone, with Karo syrup.

As I talked her eyes lit up, and she said, "It sounds like so much fun!" I told her it was fun, just like it's fun for her to visit her grandparents. On reflection, I realized I made it sound like all we did at grandpa's was eat. Tonight I'll have to tell her about riding our hot wheels in the driveway, playing with old toys we'd find in the closet, the bright green antique dentist chair in the corner of the basement, the salon style doors leading to the back room that made it feel like a secret hideout, the time we stood out on the patio in our bare feet on Christmas Day because it was 50 degrees, the collection of antique dolls in my mom's old bedroom that we used to play with, playing piano while my grandpa dozed in the armchair, and how he'd always snap awake when I was done and say, "Very good!"

I actually can't play piano or make pancakes (like I did this morning, but not at the same time) without thinking of my grandpa. I wonder what our kids will remember about visiting their grandparents?

Race prep

Last year I entered the half marathon with as much forethought as someone who basically wandered into it from off the street. Sure, I had running shoes on, and my ipod to keep me company, but beyond that I was just armed with my 11 weeks of training.

This time, I'm trying to be a little more prepared. Spurred on by a dream the other night that I was halfway down to the race and discovered I'd forgotten my ipod and my hydration belt (which sounds like sounds like something the astronauts wear) I made a list of things to bring tomorrow. That's better than my friend Meg though, who dreamt she'd forgotten her shoes.

Since I'm recovering from a mid-week cold, I've been drinking copious amounts of liquids and sucking down vitamin C and cough drops. This morning I went for a walk and came back to stretch. I iced my left foot just for good measure because of the pain I had earlier in my training. I'm about to head out for a head massage, and then tonight we're having a pre-race potluck.

I have my clothes all picked out for tomorrow too - short sleeved shirt and running capris, plus long socks with the toes cut open which I can wear as sleeves until I warm up (forecast is 50 degrees). I think I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Wish me luck!

Loss of skills

I'm trying to think of what new skills I must have acquired in Singapore which pushed out skills I used to have revolving around cold weather clothing. I'm at a loss to know what those new skills are, but something has caused me to lose my ability to know two particular things:

1. When do you fully make the transition to cold weather clothing in your wardrobe? By this I mean putting away all the summer stuff and pulling out all the winter stuff? How long does this transitional period last?

2. Do I need just one jacket for the fall, or two? This was the question I encountered today while shopping for a coat. I have a winter coat, but I need something until then. I tried on one light weight coat, then found a similar style that had a thin wool/fleece like outside layer instead of cotton. Obviously warmer, right, but necessary? Couldn't I just wear more clothing under the first coat? I can't tell you how plagued I was by this dilemma. The little Minnesotan inside of me was ashamed. How could I forget this kind of information?? In the end, I let my money decide for me - I had to get the awesome shoes of the previous post, so I only wanted to spend enough to buy the lighter weight coat. I figure if I get too cold before I want to pull out my winter coat, I can go back. I also want to take Megan back because she want pink Uggs and a quilted pink vest.

Give me time. I spent the first 26 years of my life in Minnesota. We know how to do cold, and everything leading up to it.

Gina vs the Vendor

Bargaining at markets in Asia is fun for tourists. It's like a little game with Monopoly money. But when you live here, and you go with a mission to find something specific you actually need, it becomes like a show down at the OK Corral.

I went today looking for a fall jacket, shoes for cold weather other than the one pair I bought at Target about ten years ago, and a silver chain. I found these particular shoes in black leather and had that, "I must have these" feeling, while simultaneously trying to look only mildly interested. This is when the guns got drawn (cue The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly theme song):

First, the women try to convince me that it doesn't really matter what size shoe I wear. These are close enough. I counter with "they fit right or I walk." They find my size (this is a very abbreviated version of what happened. In reality, I saw about 4 pairs of shoes in two different colors).

Somewhere in the midst of finding a complete pair of size 7 shoes (these run small!) I inquire as to price. 500Y. My eyes narrow, just like in the Old West. I chuckle, and tell her she must be joking. She draws her calculator so we can bargain without others hearing. She drops to 480. This is where I leave the store.

Ah, but she grabs me and pulls me back in. I was prepared for this. I give her my highest price, 200. Her eyes narrow. She pulls out the calculator again. 450, 200, ok, ok friend, best price 400. 200, 375, 200, 350. I step away to field a phone call from my piano tuner, most of which I don't understand, but it impresses the vendor to hear me speak more Mandarin. She counters with her final price: 275. I stick to my 200 guns. She begins pleading with me to come up a little. She even drops down to 270. I'm weakening - my desire for the shoes and to be done with this transaction causes me to break my cardinal rule of never budging from my initial price: 210. That's all she needs - 220, she's reaching for a bag. The deal is done.

We wipe the sweat from our brows and promise to be good friends in future face offs.

From tropical to temperate

Each morning my kids wake up and ask me, "Is it cold outside mom?" And my response is, "Yes, and it is going to keep getting colder." Then they look at me with this baffled, "What is going ON in this country?!?" expression. Ah, kids, welcome back to a temperate climate.

In all fairness to my upbringing, it's not really cold. The morning temps are in the 50's, daytime highs in the mid to upper 60's. But when the coldest temperature you've experienced at night for the past five years was 70 something, and daytime highs were regularly 85-90, it's cold. This takes some adjustment. It's at least enough to pull out the long sleeves and pants, and for me to rethink the time that I run each day.

In addition to finding our cold weather clothes, I am also rediscovering a desire to make soup instead of salads, to take baths, and to drink tea (and I don't even really like tea). To my husband's great delight, I actually want him to snuggle with me in bed. He doesn't even mind that I'm just using him for warmth. On the downside, we have also rediscovered static cling. This fascinates my kids. It just annoys me. That's right - for five whole years I never saw static cling.

While I was raised in a temperate climate (some might call it tundra), I have to say I enjoy the fact that this spot on the globe is slightly warmer than my hometown in southern Minnesota - no snow flurries in the forecast for awhile. It's a nice way to ease back into temperate.

National Day Parade

I'm not one for drinking games, but if I were, and the phrase for drinking yesterday was, "Socialism with Chinese characteristics", all the people at our house would have been tanked. We got our cable installed just so that we could watch the National Day Parade on TV. I had forgotten the awesomeness which is Chinese television. The commercials alone are fascinating - usually about 5 seconds long, often repeated within 20 seconds of their previous showing, and generally involving embarrassing situations for those in the commercial.

But yesterday wasn't about commercials - it was all about the Chinese, and their ability to coordinate events with large numbers of people at a level of precision that is awe-inspiring. The parade kicked off with President Hu sticking out of the top of a black car, looking not unlike a Ken doll when similarly stuck in the Barbie convertible, being driven along a long line of troops and military equipment. This is called the "review of the troops", a.k.a. "check out our massive military strength." Periodically he would call out "tong zher men xin ku la!" (Comrades you are so hard working!) and they would respond, "Wei renmen fu wu!" (for the people!). Heart warming. While he was reviewing, and while the troops subsequently marched past the main square with perfectly coordinated moves, there were 80,000 children in the square holding up colored signs that were changed into 41 different pictures. The pictures included different phrases in characters, and the Chinese flag. Don't worry, these poor children had stands on which to put their signs.

After the troops marched past, there was a line of floats - one for every official minority group in the country. Many were surrounded by people making patterns with things they were carrying - flags, sashes, flowers, large colorful rings, and my personal favorite - giant colored puff balls like something from a Dr. Suess book. And all of it accompanied by a 2,000 piece band.

The sheer amount of organization required to pull off an event like this is staggering. Everyone was in step (how do you drive giant rocket bearing tanks down a street exactly in a line?), everyone was happy, the skies were blue. That in itself was a feat - the previous day visibility was about 50 yards. These people are experts at cloud seeding.

And all throughout, as we listened to the English commentary, we were reminded that this is a country which is "socialist, with Chinese characteristics." Apparently that includes pulling off major parades for 60th anniversaries. Well done, China, well done.