tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44568717293165637392024-03-04T22:48:58.249-08:00Big World Little FishGracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-30715171154932154352012-02-09T02:10:00.000-08:002012-02-09T02:12:26.092-08:00Plaid, Planes, PhuketLook at my husband. Ain't he the cutest?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnoOuZh7TsbmdozjKcNoNY_LFPjPjcatt0_U7kLcglUJypYUVcUMC4DIei6dRQu3n2oCILMw-xW3wQZQVgExBmrqZKp1xpJyeah3erIxIf1axHxOFnkgH2XOrmVk9siHVE_YdZ3moaWeOg/s1600/Plaid.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnoOuZh7TsbmdozjKcNoNY_LFPjPjcatt0_U7kLcglUJypYUVcUMC4DIei6dRQu3n2oCILMw-xW3wQZQVgExBmrqZKp1xpJyeah3erIxIf1axHxOFnkgH2XOrmVk9siHVE_YdZ3moaWeOg/s320/Plaid.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Sure, he seems unassuming in his plaid-pattern mixing (don't worry, he doesn't leave the house like this) snacking on his saltine cracker. But little did you know that Jason takes his status as an ISFJ (Meyers-Briggs... have you taken it? It will reveal the multitudes Whitman talked about) and uses it to great advantage.<br />
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Jason has planned a super-rad trip for the two of us from here to Malaysia, then island hopping up to Phuket (PS Potty-mouths... that's pronounced Poo-Ket. Not... the thing you're thinking). "Planning a trip? Easy Peasy!" you may be thinking. Not this trip, friends! Oh, no!<br />
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Here is our trip in numbers, according to Jason's major J-induced planning ("J" stands for "Judging" on the Meyers-Briggs. It doesn't mean he's a bigot, it just means he thinks there's a right way to do things, and feels comforted by planning).<br />
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1: number of nights we'll stay in each hostel en route to Phuket <br />
3: number of ferries we'll be taking between Thai islands<br />
4: the subway line we'll be taking to get to Beijing South train station<br />
12: approximate check-in time at our first hostel in Kuala Lumpur (as in midnight)<br />
24: number of pages of Jason's homemade itinerary/travel guide to Kuala Lumpur and southern Thailand<br />
30: amount of minutes it will take to get from Beijing to Tian Jin via bullet train<br />
1200: approximate amount of RMB saved by taking a flight from Tian Jin to Kuala Lumpur rather than flying directly from Beijing (yay, Air Asia!)<br />
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I'm so excited! Thai iced tea! Ocean! Curries galore! Ocean! Warm weather! Cheap coffee! OCEAN! Did I mention I love the ocean?<br />
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Beijing, I think we're close enough friends for me to be brutally honest with you and tell you that I will NOT miss you at all while I'm basking in the glorious sunshine and soaking up all that good Thai hospitality. Sorry... but not really.<br />
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A flood of gorgeous, scenic photos forthcoming!Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-39187053329788159642012-02-05T20:22:00.000-08:002012-02-05T20:23:32.221-08:00Chang Ping Adventure!<span style="font-size: small;">Beijing is HUGE. Just when you think that you've figured out your bearings around this city, a new suburb pops up, or you end up lost in all of Beijing's winding hutong alleys. As of late, I haven't strayed far from my west side student-populated pocket of the city, but given all the time we have with the Chinese New Year holiday, my friend MLK and I decided to venture north into Chang Ping-- a suburb in northwest Beijing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">The journey north begins on the special Chang Ping subway line, which conveniently connects to Beijing subway line 13. As soon as you board the Chang Ping line, the Chang Ping theme of everything being miniature begins. The special CP line cars are about the same size, but everything feels just slightly smaller, narrower, and just a little mini. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6MaBpDem2sqkqh7sjW_H-XxmRc0lxw8d8c_iLmd_15Wpx-gsNga-XAyTWjjBprPCFyq1b_kFZoVwfXe2KWiE11qiVz3CuagIXPvlqi_K56e9PolxlU3BnhYEvK4VprAXnlctui1RR-2SY/s1600/IMG_2548.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6MaBpDem2sqkqh7sjW_H-XxmRc0lxw8d8c_iLmd_15Wpx-gsNga-XAyTWjjBprPCFyq1b_kFZoVwfXe2KWiE11qiVz3CuagIXPvlqi_K56e9PolxlU3BnhYEvK4VprAXnlctui1RR-2SY/s320/IMG_2548.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvjTRNKrvewjXgJ58uQajxe_XLaW1j-9xdGSuL2OtoBdWeJdbPISat4tiSviGql3nu24F8s7KKvt-dSsi-OMjkhqfen-8LT3YUK4SBj94qYBHQpFkZM7R84rSiN09AK9IhpoidB0VwU0h7/s1600/IMG_2550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvjTRNKrvewjXgJ58uQajxe_XLaW1j-9xdGSuL2OtoBdWeJdbPISat4tiSviGql3nu24F8s7KKvt-dSsi-OMjkhqfen-8LT3YUK4SBj94qYBHQpFkZM7R84rSiN09AK9IhpoidB0VwU0h7/s320/IMG_2550.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">On our way up, it was hard to believe that we were still in Beijing. The CP line travels through stretches of countryside and rural areas, plus a forest of construction cranes. Looks like those vast expanses of countryside won't be around for long.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9zoRuYPaoFCzKiv_3rKA0CvupJXQMkmUU2Nd6Ws2oeHiJf496bk2PjrmgUgpjgqXn9OOX7yjjip7D4JcUnTG0zyC7XNqXFzD6rHlAMS5EIWyPq32pal0ODD3RKfV8uuvrOEx8HYfPewRT/s1600/IMG_2559.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9zoRuYPaoFCzKiv_3rKA0CvupJXQMkmUU2Nd6Ws2oeHiJf496bk2PjrmgUgpjgqXn9OOX7yjjip7D4JcUnTG0zyC7XNqXFzD6rHlAMS5EIWyPq32pal0ODD3RKfV8uuvrOEx8HYfPewRT/s320/IMG_2559.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">When we finally reached Chang Ping, we boarded a minibus to get into town. The bus was tiny! It probably seated about 15-20 people, and ambled along the eerily empty streets of Chang Ping district.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbpEzmIjuecQ6qw6pTuS2LmH_GTeau4FYjMt9eLWYnMJ94ykeubE7XqTZT3cRxXNVxGzGhc9maIWuK-K_UevJUgKBOdXaOSTuArZannwYpcYnyzW1ipRNa3FhYYN5NN_nF-vr-UWTK1kd4/s1600/IMG_2560.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbpEzmIjuecQ6qw6pTuS2LmH_GTeau4FYjMt9eLWYnMJ94ykeubE7XqTZT3cRxXNVxGzGhc9maIWuK-K_UevJUgKBOdXaOSTuArZannwYpcYnyzW1ipRNa3FhYYN5NN_nF-vr-UWTK1kd4/s320/IMG_2560.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">When we got into town, we'd arrived a bit earlier than our friend and Chang Ping resident, Amanda. Fortunately for <i>this</i> American, our bus stopped right in front of Chang Ping's lone McDonald's, where I indulged in a quick cheeseburger snack. MLK has a personal vendetta against McD's, so she resigned to sitting with me whilst shooting me a disapproving look.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLcaKSdLfCy7u5Zb1fPpGR_ovObY62FhylYCgiYBp07ygcCX6D4WOyAquO7jTbVSz42dG_4RUq6xRbUnmvCYh1QKRQsMOb9L7VdVyPLtgQAHt98359ysF6QrzhyphenhyphenPJHUbnZuClr5DCf2MO/s1600/IMG_2563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLcaKSdLfCy7u5Zb1fPpGR_ovObY62FhylYCgiYBp07ygcCX6D4WOyAquO7jTbVSz42dG_4RUq6xRbUnmvCYh1QKRQsMOb9L7VdVyPLtgQAHt98359ysF6QrzhyphenhyphenPJHUbnZuClr5DCf2MO/s320/IMG_2563.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Outside, street vendors sold snacks equally processed, though perhaps slightly less clean.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip19Cw21PHi-tBCYZPcWKP4S_VAfas77UDdZ_9E2Atkf3flfFYl3DeBcak3XKSjJR8WCaYMJq6dRmHjF2RJ8monrDgRg2U-9sFeQKAYy0Xaei6LcFg2Dmph2rHxXVQrMF82Amzmqw7u81W/s1600/IMG_2564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip19Cw21PHi-tBCYZPcWKP4S_VAfas77UDdZ_9E2Atkf3flfFYl3DeBcak3XKSjJR8WCaYMJq6dRmHjF2RJ8monrDgRg2U-9sFeQKAYy0Xaei6LcFg2Dmph2rHxXVQrMF82Amzmqw7u81W/s320/IMG_2564.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLwf2UB4PebFaRZqx323cf6x_f8pvYKZ63tesH9xrrncoTLslKvrgdJ_FbLhJljCbnaqDecjR_NI6UB1hi4AolcQk0DtqyfEWIlCCjgN2BaT21ty3FhiLvxMkz_8oW7SYcSg-ZoytaLm8/s1600/IMG_2565.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLwf2UB4PebFaRZqx323cf6x_f8pvYKZ63tesH9xrrncoTLslKvrgdJ_FbLhJljCbnaqDecjR_NI6UB1hi4AolcQk0DtqyfEWIlCCjgN2BaT21ty3FhiLvxMkz_8oW7SYcSg-ZoytaLm8/s320/IMG_2565.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">After meeting up with Amanda, we spent the evening eating tasty Chinese hot pot, chatting, eating Amanda's home baked goods, watching Nacho Libre, and marveling at our matching headwear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizYA7Ql_m-deopAt9Pn82iH1Xb68QXNesPYeNGNCxnk-8jXtat8L-U4go9lfYrnG6OUjKeLnWO3s3RFkJr6bTQuKuc0bEAIoNwvYEK_P6CPmng9opVLeBom2vyB0YSImgNsrFWXq9hIuLq/s1600/IMG_2568.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizYA7Ql_m-deopAt9Pn82iH1Xb68QXNesPYeNGNCxnk-8jXtat8L-U4go9lfYrnG6OUjKeLnWO3s3RFkJr6bTQuKuc0bEAIoNwvYEK_P6CPmng9opVLeBom2vyB0YSImgNsrFWXq9hIuLq/s320/IMG_2568.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The next morning, we awoke to a lovely view of the mountains surrounding Beijing that we rarely get such a clear view of because of the pollution and density of tall buildings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">After a lazy morning of chit-chatting, we headed out to an early lunch at a French restaurant around the corner from Amanda's. Yes, you read that correctly-- a French restaurant. Not a French-themed restaurant with Chinese food and kitschy waitresses in berets. I mean a real, legit, true blue (or bleu) French restaurant. The restaurant is called 6'eme (Sixth in francais) and is run by a few local Chinese former students who went to Paris and got their diplomas at Le Cordon Bleu. They started 6'eme as a start-up restaurant to practice their skills in a low-rent area, and eventually take their restaurant model and menu into the city. We were glad to be guinea pigs in their little experiment.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Goat cheese, apple, and honey salad with bacon.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitF2tGI8kpjOqkBdOyxNQ3H1Nh4fj0sTo-XW0D8jCFVb2rgdGNnJzT2jTNV7yI_SKEfGSKc3h9fXC_1ayud_qwWnQZwmedstx4Vk1jUGVWhWBnfgG9UKvOqJ3w15ziDms_7fIpfYuPTOpe/s1600/IMG_2575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitF2tGI8kpjOqkBdOyxNQ3H1Nh4fj0sTo-XW0D8jCFVb2rgdGNnJzT2jTNV7yI_SKEfGSKc3h9fXC_1ayud_qwWnQZwmedstx4Vk1jUGVWhWBnfgG9UKvOqJ3w15ziDms_7fIpfYuPTOpe/s320/IMG_2575.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">French onion soup! Baaaaahhhhh.... look at all that cheeeeeese!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCeRslVhhTQ_texE5YLwTMv8OImEwfzBVsOSR7rMCEFPT96Y_cwcgNmgOi3mvAzQuYXk_mgeOzdP-VmZMgSaoxfnlpyOR3sFaZFZECOxFsRDTuoU4rqeBaLG1vsNkkFqU8Og_JqX_TmWIb/s1600/IMG_2576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCeRslVhhTQ_texE5YLwTMv8OImEwfzBVsOSR7rMCEFPT96Y_cwcgNmgOi3mvAzQuYXk_mgeOzdP-VmZMgSaoxfnlpyOR3sFaZFZECOxFsRDTuoU4rqeBaLG1vsNkkFqU8Og_JqX_TmWIb/s320/IMG_2576.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">MLK with her bacon and caramelized onion tartlette.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Ajp05bhitGhUGv_IzomVw3fIA7OSrQ3LT5D9RqDWbg_eYsi6qqaAYaa1AIOzOH_URxEN2kKtzSVXKvCihQ70sw_RJumgI52NMtqXIProcD4sg0yW7TNQOQUXPK_34kXC7aIPA874Z3-S/s1600/IMG_2577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Ajp05bhitGhUGv_IzomVw3fIA7OSrQ3LT5D9RqDWbg_eYsi6qqaAYaa1AIOzOH_URxEN2kKtzSVXKvCihQ70sw_RJumgI52NMtqXIProcD4sg0yW7TNQOQUXPK_34kXC7aIPA874Z3-S/s320/IMG_2577.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Amanda and Beouf Stroganoff French style</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sometimes, it's easy to forget that you're in China when you live in Beijing. Foreign goods are readily available, English-speakers are everywhere, and especially when it becomes your home, you forget about what country you're in. It's good to be reminded that this city alone is so much bigger than what I see day-to-day... and a relief to see that it still comes with cheese.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-66111668002907647662012-01-26T20:44:00.000-08:002012-01-26T20:52:11.428-08:00Why?-- Chun Jie Edition"Why?" is a question that comes up often here in China. Why are all security guards in China either 12 year-old boys or 70 year-old retirees? Why are condoms always sold front and center, right next to chewing gum and Snickers bars at the check-out line? Why is it that one mooncake will be wrapped in fifteen different layers of packaging, when it's just the same nasty mooncake that's sold on the street? Why do we have to pay for pharmacy goods separately from our grocery items?<br />
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Many of these 'why' questions are left unanswered, or with the ubiquitous shrug and, "This is China." Neither is very satisfying, but it's what we've got. Actually, "it's what we've got" is also a pretty common answer.<br />
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Anyway, in my few years of living here, I have found a few very satisfying answers to my 'why' questions related to Spring Festival (<i>Chun Jie </i>春节) or Chinese New Year, as it's often referred to back home. Here are my findings:<br />
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<b>Why the fireworks? </b> Every year, China erupts into mass chaos at midnight to ring in the New Year. Fireworks are sold at street corners for two weeks prior to the big event, and the volume of fireworks has led to a few <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/7884275.stm" target="_blank">hazards</a> in the past. That seems commonplace enough, but what most people don't know is that the fireworks, firecrackers, noisemakers that sound like bombs, and every other irritatingly loud noisemaker will go off before every meal time over the course of the following week.<br />
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I've learned that the reason for this is that fireworks, firecrackers, and noisemakers aren't just something Chinese people use to celebrate. The light and noise from these things are meant to scare away evil spirits that, I suppose, are only active at the one major holiday of the year. These 'evil spirits' are also more present at meal times, which is why the works are always set off just before meals also.<br />
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<b>Why the red paper around the doors?</b> Ah yes, the red paper around the doors. For those of you who don't know about red paper around the doors, they are sort of like China's version of Christmas lights that stay up year-round. Walk up any apartment building stairwell, and you'll see fading, tearing strips of red paper stuck to the door frames, usually emblazoned in some sort of Chinese greeting in gold foil. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihxxbafQItXvKkWKr7xz4wFs5QLA7kCm4Rycn_r2Bd-LQlB6j8m5bcS0buWrPpPNAJCzxONhR73U7BntkfVV3qQbktO5PvKqsIZXIjk6edPJI9ColK7JtbFTb-k5IdDqkyOawUKrCqa4qB/s1600/CNY1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihxxbafQItXvKkWKr7xz4wFs5QLA7kCm4Rycn_r2Bd-LQlB6j8m5bcS0buWrPpPNAJCzxONhR73U7BntkfVV3qQbktO5PvKqsIZXIjk6edPJI9ColK7JtbFTb-k5IdDqkyOawUKrCqa4qB/s400/CNY1.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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Turns out that this tradition also stems from the same vein of guarding from the evil spirits. Red is the color symbolizing good luck in Chinese culture (hence, why red is freaking EVERYWHERE in this country), and they are keeping bad luck out and good luck in. I find this absolutely fascinating because it totally mirrors the story of the last plague on Egypt, when the Israelites were able to keep the Angel of Death from entering into their homes by painting the red blood of a lamb sacrifice over the tops and sides of their door posts.<br />
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<b>Why the TV specials?</b> Ask any Chinese student what they do at New Year's, and you'll probably receive the same answer: watch TV. CCTV puts on a number of New Year specials featuring magic shows, some song-and-dance numbers, a lovely hostess in a flashy outfits, and cross-talk... which is sort of like China's version of stand-up comedy. These specials will often go late into the evening, and I have to admit that I've never seen anyone get so excited to watch TV until 3 AM.<br />
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From what I understand, there isn't much to do on New Year's. Everything is closed, the dumplings have been wrapped, boiled, and eaten, and the fireworks have been set off. At that point, there's not much else to do but gather 'round the old telly and be entertained. I heard that this year's specials left much to be desired, but then again-- I haven't been one for hours of Chinese kitsch and comedy I don't understand.<br />
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For how long I've lived here, I've learned comparatively few answers to all my 'why' questions. The truth is that even many Chinese people don't know the answers to these questions, but that is part of the beauty of living here. To simply exist in a seemingly insane system of traditions and ways of doing things, and appreciate the aspects you enjoy, and learn to deal with the aspects you don't. In any case, here is to wishing everyone a joyful new year! 新年快乐 <i>xin nian kuai le </i>!Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-7968465105225078972012-01-26T20:14:00.000-08:002012-01-26T20:45:03.604-08:00The Year of the DragonHappy New Year, everyone!<br />
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I suppose for folks living in China, it is obligatory that I post something about Chinese New Year's on our blog. We're now almost at the official end of Spring Festival Week, which went by too quickly, as holidays often do. It's still been an amazingly relaxing time, free from classes and full of slept-in mornings.<br />
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Considering that Spring Festival is the biggest holiday of the year (imagine Christmas, Thanksgiving, Boxing Day, and New Year's Eve all rolled into one), the majority of the city shuts down. Major malls, public transit, and chain supermarkets stay open for business while the rest of the Beijing turns into a Chinese version of the set of a zombie apocalypse film... or just a reasonably populated city in a Western country. For us <i>laowai, </i>it's a dream come true-- free reign of the streets without having to worry about colliding with someone every five minutes, and quiet for extended periods of time. For our Chinese friends, it's strange. Where are all the people? And why is it so eerily quiet?<br />
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In our case, our celebration <i>was</i> eerily quiet-- even for <i>laowai</i>. We made plans to hang out at our friend's 22nd floor apartment to watch the insane free-reign fireworks that go off to usher in the new year. The photos don't do the event justice, but just imagine if every family in China made it their mission to hold their own personal Disneyland fireworks show at midnight-- and pulled it off. That's basically what happened.<br />
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Here are a few photos:<br />
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Coming up... a laowai's perception of Chinese New Year traditions.</div>Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-44818300373221644382012-01-10T22:32:00.000-08:002012-01-10T22:32:06.608-08:00Lost in TranslationThe Chinese education system is a puzzling thing. I've blogged about my student, Xindy, before. Xindy is a whiz at memorizing words and chanting slogans, but she still doesn’t know why it’s probably not a great idea to rub your eye after that same finger was digging for gold in your left nostril just before. Call me old-fashioned, but I am of the school that believes that manners should retain a place in everyday society.<br />
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Being cross-cultural, though, often makes teaching and learning manners tricky. Not only do you have to translate cultures, but you also have to translate languages. Here's a sticky situation I found myself in with Xindy. <br />
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<i>Xindy leans back and rips a loud, long fart.</i><br />Grace: <i>(laughing)</i> Xindy, did you just eat lunch?<br />Xindy: <i>(learning back on the sofa with her arms tucked behind her head) </i> No. Why?<br />Grace: Well, after you do that, you should say, “Excuse me.”<br />Xindy: <i>(brows furrowed, still lounging on my sofa) </i> I should say what?<br />Grace: You should say, “Excuse me.”<br />Xindy: <i>(sitting up) </i>What? What does that mean?<br />Grace: It is kind of like saying, “I’m sorry.”<br />Xindy: But why I need to say this word?<br />Grace: Because what you did is a little impolite.<br />Xindy: What’s meaning this word? Poligh?<br />Grace: Im-po-lite. It means "不客气的" <i>(bu keqi)</i>.<br />
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And here's where I went wrong. Technically, what I said was "not" (bu) and "polite" (keqi), but together, the phrase "bu keqi" is another way of saying "You're welcome"-- a phrase most Chinese students learn. Now, I'm worried that Xindy will get them all confused, and the next time she farts, she'll try to be polite and respond by saying, "You're welcome," which in my home, would warrant laughter and joy. Among mixed company, though, perhaps not so much.*<br />
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Our lesson in manners didn't end there, though.<br />
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<i>Fifteen minutes later, Xindy is working on a dictation.</i><br />Xindy: What you said before I should say when I… 放屁 <i>(fart / fangpi)</i>?<br />Grace: Oh… “Excuse me.”<br />Xindy: <i>(smiling as a rancid smell fills the room)</i> Okay. Excuse me.<br />
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*For the record, if you want to convey that something is impolite without saying "You're welcome," the correct term is "不礼貌" (bu limao).<br />
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<br />Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-91956276579693021212011-12-18T07:48:00.000-08:002011-12-18T07:48:12.319-08:00Who is your daddy...... and what does he do?<br />
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That became a topic of conversation today while tutoring my little six year-old student, Xindy. She has become one of my cutest buddies in Beijing. Jason keeps encouraging me to give up tutoring her so I can have a little free time. Sometimes, I do consider it, but then I'd miss out on conversations like these:<br />
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<i>Rumble rumble. Splish splash. Whiiiiirrrrr.</i><br />
<b>Xindy:<i> </i></b><i>(startled)</i> What is that noises?<br />
<b>Grace: </b>It's the washing machine.<br />
<b>Xindy: </b>Washing for what?<br />
<b>Grace: </b>洗衣服的 <i>(translation: for washing clothes)</i>. Jason is doing the laundry.<br />
<b>Xindy: </b> <i>(more startled)</i> WHAAAAT? He is washing the clothes!?<br />
<b>Grace: </b> Yeah... well, he's putting it into the machine.<br />
<b>Xindy: </b>He knows how to do it?<br />
<b>Grace: </b>... Yes. Doesn't your dad know how to use the washing machine?<br />
<b>Xindy: </b> No!<br />
<b>Grace: </b><i>(laughing) </i> Really? So only your mommy does the laundry?<br />
<b>Xindy: </b>Eat, sleep, play iPad. That's all my daddy knows.<br />
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<u>Classic.</u>Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-32283709723186662402011-12-04T21:02:00.001-08:002011-12-04T21:21:30.700-08:00The Work of Someone GreaterWhen I happen upon difficult times in this place, when the winters are too cold, the summers are too sticky, and the food too oily. After I've long forgotten that skies are meant to be various shades of blue, and not fluctuate between white, tan, and gray. Long after the bags are packed, tickets bought, and miles traveled, I will know it was all worth it.<br />
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Because of this...<br />
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<br />Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-17966634322520514662011-12-04T17:37:00.001-08:002011-12-04T17:37:42.686-08:00It's 9:36 AMYou're in your pajamas sitting at your desk. Your laptop is open. Your coffee cup is empty. You've been awake since 7.<br />
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Do you know where your lesson plan is?<br />
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NO. FOR THE LOVE OF PETE. NO, I DON'T.Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-46037678334622203482011-11-07T04:29:00.000-08:002011-11-07T04:29:36.473-08:00Fifteen Minutes or LessSTART TIME: 1:29 PM<br /><br />
Yes, that is how long I've given myself to do a post. We've all heard that old saying, "There are 24 useful hours in a day," and ain't it just about the most bittersweet thing you've ever heard? The fact that there are indeed 24 whole hours for you to have your way with, and yet knowing that only a fraction of that time gets used in worthwhile ways?<br />
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In any case, here is my super-quick update.<br />
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Fall is in full swing in Beijing, and it is without a doubt the loveliest time of the year. I love the fall. With fall has come a ridiculous onslaught of work, work, work, and opportunities for service. At my <a href="http://www.starfish-project.com/">other job</a>, it's bazaar season which means lots and lots of selling, scheduling, and hair-pulling. Oh, and (hopefully not feigned) Christmas cheer. At my 'real' job (that I am quite eager to leave), it's midterms and grasping at straws for good lesson plans. Today, my students learned "Killing Me Softly" to the tune of a poorly played ukulele, compliments of yours truly. Talk about scraping the bottom of the barrel.<br />
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As my schedule fills up and the number of daylight hours quickly dwindles, I find myself craving those fifteen minutes, just for myself. I-- like many other women-- am a great multi-tasker, but I often find that I try to squeeze in a few relaxing/fun moments while working. I open up multiple tabs on my browser, so I can answer emails, read the headlines, and download a trailer from Apple Trailers all at the same time. The result? A few emails inevitably get left unanswered, I still don't fully understand what crazy debacle happened during the Occupy Oakland protests, and all I know of new releases is that it's just a bunch more of the same old crap, crap, crap that Hollywood loves to churn out.<br />
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And of course, the first thing to go directly to the backburner is my quiet time. I think many Christians can understand this plight. Life happens, and spending time with God gets lost somewhere in the mix of work, family obligation, and errands. After a while, though, it becomes easy to forget just what I'm working, spending time with family, and running errands for. Furthermore, quiet time is a two-way interaction, and it is so easy to forget that God has a feeling about being left on the backburner, too. It hurts Him, and He misses us. Isn't that nuts?<br />
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I know old habits die hard, but one thing I'm trying to be intentional about is doing one thing at a time, and giving my full focus on Him for some portion of the day-- be it on the subway or in my non-existent prayer closet-- so that I can give full focus to my entire being.<br />
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Just for kicks, also, here's a photo of a lesson plan that is a surefire success. Your perfect 24-hour day. You'll notice that the majority of my time is spend eating. And see that giant slot left open for shopping? It's not for clothes. It's for food.<br />
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END TIME: 1:47 PM. Dang!Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-57067624898036197652011-10-10T05:59:00.000-07:002011-10-10T06:00:07.826-07:00Annuals<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Anniversaries are funny things. The majority of my students admit to having never celebrated a wedding anniversary as weddings tend to be tricky here in China. Do they celebrate the day they signed their marriage contract, or the evening the couple hosted giant wedding reception/variety show in their honor?<br />
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Oddly enough, Jason and I had never celebrated an anniversary before. We, like so many of our married Chinese counterparts, were a bit fuzzy on our details. I mostly attribute this to a conversation that I love telling friends about.<br />
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On the afternoon of March 13, 2006...<br />
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G: So I called my mom today to wish her a happy birthday. She asked me about you.<br />
J: Mm-hmm...<br />
G: She asked about what's going on between you and me.<br />
J: Yeah?<br />
G: And I didn't know what to tell her.<br />
J: Well, I've been telling my friends you're my girlfriend for the past few weeks.<br />
G: ............<br />
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Yup, folks. That's how a DTR happens.<br />
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Well, it's a good thing that wedding dates are a bit more definite. And if this is where the bar is set for our very first anniversary celebration ever, then Jason has a lot to live up to for future anniversaries.<br />
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Here's how we celebrated our first year as a married couple:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gwcvFuBY5HwrTrq6eSQom6mlbhiUiPg9xrwUIa0ZodpMWtbA5uBK7MhMCgY1aHjpySgFIo1PwsAJvmtNtLQKxqrFJ7TFq3wAC8WFZmuskjkjepd75bXua6KUwl9XHH9Zuiod_eTsKPeG/s1600/anniversary3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gwcvFuBY5HwrTrq6eSQom6mlbhiUiPg9xrwUIa0ZodpMWtbA5uBK7MhMCgY1aHjpySgFIo1PwsAJvmtNtLQKxqrFJ7TFq3wAC8WFZmuskjkjepd75bXua6KUwl9XHH9Zuiod_eTsKPeG/s400/anniversary3.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We hopped onto our lovely e-scooter, Estelle, and made our way to the subway station.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">En route to the restaurant...</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">...we saw dinosaurs in a shopping plaza! Only in China...</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We made it to our dinner spot and ordered up a Mediterranean feast that made us smile pitas.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We went for a stroll through brand new shopping malls with vacant store fronts. Until I came to Beijing, I would never have expected to find a moment of peace away from crowds in a shopping mall.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsDFVWUSicZ0xDeW4RCrC6S861OPXdVZFsgPraPy9HyfuxYJcMTycA-KT6z2Sm-epObW53alA0E3ZgGD6mBF6lo2Nn4JoEAuzPsKGuc2rdyJ22LaSVEmgMI2b_RCcY7tKFJYPBTmDNx9vq/s1600/anniversary9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsDFVWUSicZ0xDeW4RCrC6S861OPXdVZFsgPraPy9HyfuxYJcMTycA-KT6z2Sm-epObW53alA0E3ZgGD6mBF6lo2Nn4JoEAuzPsKGuc2rdyJ22LaSVEmgMI2b_RCcY7tKFJYPBTmDNx9vq/s320/anniversary9.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We made our way to a Cantonese restaurant for a Chocolate Banana Ice Cream Parfait. In the words of Donkey, "Everybody loves parfait!" But Americans, take note. Those are corn flakes on the bottom of the bowl. This was one <u>righteous</u> parfait.</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">And here's the best part of our anniversary. When we got married, Jason and I decided that we'd always give each other gifts made of the element that represents that anniversary. Year one is represented by paper. Jason commissioned a friend who is an art student to paint a watercolor of our first home as a married couple.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Everyone. Welcome to our home.</span></b></td></tr>
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<br />Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-23213194305907513572011-09-19T10:06:00.000-07:002011-09-18T21:44:53.732-07:00Estelle: A Love StoryThis post is not about the fabulous British singer who sings about American boys. It is, however, a simple love story.<br />
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A few months ago, Jason and I started toying with the idea of getting an electric bicycle. We had been living sans wheels for quite some time, and with summer fast approaching, the idea of zipping through the city instead of slowly trudging through the grueling Beijing hot smog started to seem more and more appealing.</div>
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We started checking internet classifieds for a second-hand <i>dian dong che</i> (electric bicycle) and hoping that we'd find one that hadn't been used too much and was the right price. Often times, we came across ads for two-seater battery-powered pedal bikes. Truth be told, they are not pretty. Clunky and made mostly of cheap aluminum-like metal and often emblazoned with the image of some sort of infantile mascot (they like sheep here, for some reason), these bikes are long associated in my mind with the post-menopausal aunties I see picking their grandchildren up from primary school. <br />
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Even though I felt too foolish to verbalize it, I had a secret hope that the moped we found was of the fake-Vespa variety popular amongst over-privileged Korean students in Beijing. It felt stupid to do so, but even when I prayed at night about whether or not a moped was waiting for us in our future, I asked that it would be one that wasn't an eyesore and would help me fulfill some silly fantasy of being like Audrey Tatou in Amelie, zipping around Paris on an adorable little Vespa, arms wrapped around the torso my Chinese-American version of Nino / Matthieu Kassovitz (with obvious, glaring differences, of course. I mean, c'mon. Who are we kidding? Paris vs Beijing?). <br />
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"I know that if it's your will for us to buy this scooter," I'd pray at night, "then you will prepare the perfect one for us. Even it may not be the one I have in mind."<br />
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Well... he is good. He dresses the lilies of the valley, he gives the birds a home, and he prepares Beijing's most adorable, perfect scooter for us. Estelle (my moniker for our perfect Chinese fake Vespa) was put up for sale late one night, and we were the first to respond to the ad. Not only was she the most perfect scooter and in our price range, but Estelle's previous owner was an amazingly sweet Indonesian man studying Chinese on our very own campus. Like all things pre-ordained and blessed, obtaining Estelle was easy, joyful, and beneficial to all parties involved.<br />
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So while you may have thought that this love story was going to be about my love for Estelle, it is more about the amazing love of a Father who provides and fulfills our every need AND desire. I think living in China has often made me jaded to the idea that God actually wants to give us all that we desire and more. But in my blindness and self-satisfying tendencies, I fix my eyes on what I can't have (easy access to cheese, open roads, trees, and clean air) instead of simply asking and receiving.<br />
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Thankfully, with His grace and through these small acts of love, I don't have to be a slave to what I "have-nots," but I daily have the joy of receiving all that I need, and more.<br />
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Estelle has changed our lives. I know that sounds a little dramatic, but I guess if I compared it to having a car in downtown LA and not having a car, you would see how it would open up so many opportunities and save a ton of energy. Plus, whenever I take Estelle out for a trip to the veg market, or to meet a friend, or to drop off my dry cleaning, I don't just enjoy the feeling of being a Chinese version of Amelie, but I am reminded of how deep the Father's love is for me.</div>
Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-92162905217699064372011-09-11T06:50:00.000-07:002011-09-11T07:02:38.113-07:00Big Plate o' ChickenAhh, Xinjiang food. If I ever leave this crazy country, I may bid its traffic, crowds, and pollution good riddance, but I will be eternally grateful for being introduced to Xinjiang food.<br />
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Xinjiang is the very large province (technically 'autonomous region') in northwest China populated mostly by the Uyghur minority... and some of the most delectable sheep you've ever encountered. The land is dry, which means less rice and more wheat, yielding a cuisine rounded out mostly by some tasty flour-based carbs such as noodles and bread that is baked in wood-fired tandoori-like ovens.<br />
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Despite Xinjiang's abundance in tasty lamb, one of my favorite Xinjiang dishes is Da Pan Ji (大盘鸡), literally meaning Big Plate o' Chicken. And a big plate of chicken it indeed is: a giant platter of chicken pieces tossed with potatoes, green peppers, and leeks. Fresh, wide, chewy flour noodles are added afterward and tossed in the remaining sauce.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Are you drooling yet?</td></tr>
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Last semester, I had the pleasure of teaching a group of primary school teachers from Xinjiang, and decided to let them put their teaching skills to the test and teach me how to make Da Pan Ji. It certainly wasn't easy or quick, but I was pleasantly surprised by how do-able it is and that Da Pan Ji is a one pot recipe is an added bonus. <br />
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Well, I couldn't keep the joy of Da Pan Ji to myself, so here is the recipe for one of the tastiest things that China has to offer. And I promise you, it will taste nothing like Panda Express. In a good way.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Xinjiang dinner, compliments of my amazing students.</td></tr>
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<b>You will need:</b><br />
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<i>For the noodles:</i><br />
3 1/2 cups flour<br />
1 1/2 cups warm water <br />
2 teaspoons salt-- dissolve salt into water <br />
1 tablespoon vegetable oil<br />
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<i>For the Da Pan Ji:</i><br />
1 whole chicken-- cleaned well outside and inside the cavity, giblets removed, separated and cut into small pieces (keep bone in)<br />
3/4 cup vegetable oil<br />
3-4 tablespoons dark soy sauce<br />
1 liter light beer<br />
1 cup hot water<br />
3 potatoes-- peeled and cut into 3 inch cubes, then tossed with a little salt<br />
2 Anaheim peppers, cut into 3 inch squares<br />
salt to taste<br />
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<i>Flavor Bouquet-- place all ingredients into a small bowl </i><br />
3/4 cup dried red chilis<br />
1 whole star anise<br />
4-6 Bay leaves<br />
2 tablespoons Sichuan peppercorns<br />
4 inch knob of ginger-- peeled and sliced into strips<br />
2 leeks cut into 4 inch pieces, then sliced lengthwise<br />
1 whole bulb of garlic-- peeled, then crushed lightly to release flavor<br />
<br />
<i>Note: For those of you who lack the butchering skills (or a mini
chainsaw) to take apart an entire chicken, I cheated the second time I
made Da Pan Ji by using drumettes and chicken wings. Saves a TON of
time, and if you live in China, you don't have to deal with the whole
chickens coming with the head and the claws. For me, personally, that's
just a little to 'real.'</i> <br />
<br />
First, prep the noodles. Put the flour into a large bowl, then add salted water little by little, incorporated it into the flour by hand. Continue to add water until the dough comes together and pulls cleanly away from the sides of the bowl. Knead the dough on a board (no need to flour the board) until it softens. Put the dough on a board with the bowl inverted over it to keep the dough moist. Allow the dough to rest.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCv_Wi44Ccgq4I54nbrCkhgcxxlhkHZPMrmfCyvPFsievLtKzQ1ht_urUSjqp0n-fv7vRw05CWmY4X8a5qWRjuF4wQEWJqTb1lbukX7XHiJd2c0YyWAKNSbp_JUYcBVdQTNAaRkwDhGHU5/s1600/dapanji1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCv_Wi44Ccgq4I54nbrCkhgcxxlhkHZPMrmfCyvPFsievLtKzQ1ht_urUSjqp0n-fv7vRw05CWmY4X8a5qWRjuF4wQEWJqTb1lbukX7XHiJd2c0YyWAKNSbp_JUYcBVdQTNAaRkwDhGHU5/s320/dapanji1.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AJ kneading the noodle dough</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Pour oil into a large wok over high heat until the oil is about 2-3 inches deep. When the oil begins to smoke, add all of the chicken pieces. Stir carefully, and add a few pieces of ginger to stop the smell. Sprinkle about 1 teaspoon of salt over the chicken to render its juices. Cook over high heat for 10-15 minutes, until all juices have reduced and the oil begins popping gently.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGiKw4SEXaOx1E3PWyA23_cdqkJohy3u9ns4tASvRj1UZEAz3wUHVY9uv8cZ1sMOawPvduSFdN-2FKFWjMDdqsbPenunzR_kRVS-VQdeMyWPa89qIRG92PlKA9N832IcnV1XpXN4316oQV/s1600/dapanji4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGiKw4SEXaOx1E3PWyA23_cdqkJohy3u9ns4tASvRj1UZEAz3wUHVY9uv8cZ1sMOawPvduSFdN-2FKFWjMDdqsbPenunzR_kRVS-VQdeMyWPa89qIRG92PlKA9N832IcnV1XpXN4316oQV/s320/dapanji4.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Add soy sauce to the chicken, until it turns into a deep caramel color. Add the flavor bouquet all at once. When the chicken begins fragrant, pour in the beer, and hot water. Allow to simmer for a few minutes, stirring the chicken and spices gently. Ladle out about three ladle-spoons of the broth, and reserve for later.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguH7aeYbVI15MKEmNoYeyPrmj11fSlRKQwsmuki5u_HrW2OB2H4DKFLd6HxGsc5uR201PpMnxQmOVoLFHONUkeJ6xWwtVmtI57__q7_Lha2-tfN8ReODk2U9HGwhHV0-Adzz-SjYRkeXv1/s1600/dapanji3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguH7aeYbVI15MKEmNoYeyPrmj11fSlRKQwsmuki5u_HrW2OB2H4DKFLd6HxGsc5uR201PpMnxQmOVoLFHONUkeJ6xWwtVmtI57__q7_Lha2-tfN8ReODk2U9HGwhHV0-Adzz-SjYRkeXv1/s320/dapanji3.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flavor bouquet!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ZAk-NmuskpKXa0AfSoFNjnzBlVxJ9AvxikBnw5Wf2ZPNukv-K1phGIlexQKro_RKsTZPAt9rVcWAWu3ZUP02VJ_kbi8gCILSa0S1nZkkGU_lXVe4Jn3dGD-UpA0uyll6RxrqYC2N9sZA/s1600/dapanji5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ZAk-NmuskpKXa0AfSoFNjnzBlVxJ9AvxikBnw5Wf2ZPNukv-K1phGIlexQKro_RKsTZPAt9rVcWAWu3ZUP02VJ_kbi8gCILSa0S1nZkkGU_lXVe4Jn3dGD-UpA0uyll6RxrqYC2N9sZA/s320/dapanji5.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Rinse the salt off the potatoes and drain well. Place potatoes on top of the chicken in a single layer, but do not mix them. Cover the wok with a lid, and turn down the heat to medium. Let the broth simmer until the potatoes are cooked through (and can be pierced easily with a chopstick).<br />
<br />
While the potatoes are cooking, push down the noodle dough into a large patty. Rub the oil over the top of the patty, turning it over once so it is well coated by oil. Cover with the bowl again, and let it rest a second time.<br />
<br />
At this point, the potatoes should be cooked through. Add the reserved broth back on top of the potatoes, toss in the green peppers, and mix everything together, and transfer to the biggest plate you own, preferably one with a generous lip to catch all the good broth.<br />
<br />
Now, to finish off the noodles! Slice up your patty into long strips about 1 inch thick. Squeeze the strips in between your fingers to create a wide, flat noodle. If you're feeling brave, you can try holding your noodle on each end between your index finger and thumb and waving it up and down to stretch it out.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1YysxJPwb9B1OQOXqgSPB1zt7bOqut5BG5TXCebz6r_KuuLVcu3ksd1A20p3uZXzSLE5L8sGZa6DtQSrERgjxIe8Nwh3M27MEB8uvZWWp3F8lXEx9ccoQwcpN2fjh17f0Yl48NktIdGH/s1600/dapanji6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1YysxJPwb9B1OQOXqgSPB1zt7bOqut5BG5TXCebz6r_KuuLVcu3ksd1A20p3uZXzSLE5L8sGZa6DtQSrERgjxIe8Nwh3M27MEB8uvZWWp3F8lXEx9ccoQwcpN2fjh17f0Yl48NktIdGH/s320/dapanji6.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR39w3lwX3JsXDHmHTjMqDC9Z2WBRuoqM7y56M36sJSn8fMQwakk6kr9DiLj9YN7t5FyLF8sG0gFjfwhIQK3zIqtjdwWQJUtltd-UaV9SX_Oy6mngs_yIv_SA2-yTgCpKtSrsiQTgxmM8p/s1600/dapanji7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR39w3lwX3JsXDHmHTjMqDC9Z2WBRuoqM7y56M36sJSn8fMQwakk6kr9DiLj9YN7t5FyLF8sG0gFjfwhIQK3zIqtjdwWQJUtltd-UaV9SX_Oy6mngs_yIv_SA2-yTgCpKtSrsiQTgxmM8p/s320/dapanji7.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Once your noodles are good and stretched, fill up your wok (no need to clean it!) with water and bring the water to a boil. Push your noodles into the boiling water and cook for about 5 minutes. You can put the noodles over the chicken, or divide it between your guests bowls, and ladle the Da Pan Ji over the noodles.<br />
<br />
Wipe the drool from your chin, and savor the product of all your hard labor.<br />
<br />
Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-56491491877680709142011-09-08T18:50:00.000-07:002011-09-08T18:51:22.842-07:00White Privilege: Not Just for Americans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtvBM3MrK98iJcocLyjZIf1Fg7DMz5XcYKpUn6wiU0KCICIoMaNNfQlLl3cacz6-_EHfUFYf2djS07XG-CXBp1iNgCVcSJ0kKGqG3Lhqy579hT-NXNGxbqYIcMEqiiQ71mO8dm3KyJUM1U/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtvBM3MrK98iJcocLyjZIf1Fg7DMz5XcYKpUn6wiU0KCICIoMaNNfQlLl3cacz6-_EHfUFYf2djS07XG-CXBp1iNgCVcSJ0kKGqG3Lhqy579hT-NXNGxbqYIcMEqiiQ71mO8dm3KyJUM1U/s640/Picture+1.png" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Before coming to China, Jason and I were hoping to teach English in Korea. Of course, now we know that it was simply not in the plans for us to avoid going to China, but I had a hard time grappling with the reasons for why we couldn't find a position teaching English.<br />
<br />
"Hi, you are Korean American, right?" the girl at the teaching agency asked.<br />
<br />
"Yes, I am. But I was born in America and I've lived there my entire life."<br />
<br />
"Yes, but it is very difficult to find a school that will take a teacher who does not look like an American."<br />
<br />
To which my next question should have been, "Well, what the hell does an American look like?" I suppose people everywhere are ignorant of the fact that different countries contain a diverse range of physicalities. I'll admit that it still surprised me just a little bit (ok, maybe more) when I met a Chinese-South African, or when I realized that there is a huge Asian-Australian population-- a group of people who look a lot like me but speak with a way cooler accent.<br />
<br />
Does it get frustrating when I walk into a class full of students fully expecting a "foreign-looking" teacher whose disappointment is clearly written all over their faces because I look Chinese? Yes, and the whole explanation about not being from Korea, and having not much of a Korean national identity, is never easy to get out.<br />
<br />
But what is more infuriating than having to explain myself a hundred times a week to taxi drivers, restaurant workers, office workers, sales clerks, and nearly every other person in China is that I could never get the job in Korea, or the job posted here on the blog, simply because I don't enjoy white privilege. Not only that, but the job very well may go to some idiot whose Modus Operandi it is to sleep with as many unsuspecting Asian women and get as plastered as possible every night while still being able to show up to class the next morning, just to play a pirated DVD of Friends and sleep off his hangover at his desk. But it doesn't matter. Because he is white.<br />
<br />
So what do I hope to gain from my little rant? Really, nothing. I'm as little of a fan of white guilt as I am of white privilege. Am I saying all Chinese people are ignorant for thinking that I look Chinese? No. Because frankly, so would Dave Chapelle.<br />
<br />
I suppose I'd like to say just this: WAKE UP. It's no surprise that the world is a diverse place, and thankfully, the media is just starting to catch onto it. Racism is still a problem today, but namely because of things like this advertisement and the people who perpetrate the problem are those who assume that one's ability is based on the color of their skin. If the Chinese continue to believe that because "we all look the same," racism is not a problem in this society, they are sorely wrong and will continue to fall short of the social advances of their world power neighbors, who are <u>just now</u> learning to embrace their diversity as an asset. <br />
<br />
'marshawu,' you should seriously start reconsidering the wording on your advertisement. And I'm <i>not</i> your friend.Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-18865171855054566032011-07-24T09:37:00.000-07:002011-07-24T09:37:09.817-07:00Direct MessageSometimes, we get subtle, gentle reminders of bigger things that happen around us. Things like hunches, feelings, or "movement in the spirit" that lead us down one path or another.<br />
<br />
Other times, we get hit right over the head with something so direct and undeniable, it takes your breath away.<br />
<br />
Case in point:<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNQUU4efjVxpAz5fHLfTuU5CfGpvK7gQXtkPZ-X1aFoAoP_9rLk9d2J_Www-tSX1GC8bcERJpY4IiFcBED5K-g4PXjNOQ00Bnv0t9BJ0lMAJZJ3WyFTWrgOkrDg34pla-N7PCbzEyr_kaT/s640/IMG_2013.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">from our weekly church bulletin</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Staring at me right in the face was a question that I had a hard time answering. Am I still amazed, or do I still take His grace, mercy, and power for granted? After living in a foreign country for a while, the challenges of getting through daily life become commonplace, and the work I do starts to become routine. It becomes so easy to lose sight of the fact that the work I do, the life I live, the marriage I am a part of, the relationships I've been blessed by, the food I eat, the joy I feel, the sorrow I share-- are not simple coincidences. In every facet of even the simplest life are opportunities to be amazed by how He loves. As simple as the perfect cup of coffee (although, that's not so simple where I am) or a blue sky in the middle of a cloudy week. Or as complex as a divine appointment or situations that unfold and seem to defy all scientific or logical explanation. Yet, how easily we pass over the beautiful ways that we are reminded of His unending love and vastness in favor of mundane, circumstantial explanations! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I could say that this was just a funny coincidence-- that my name happened to appear on our bulletin. Printed with such urgency and accented by an exclamation point that just seems to express a cross between excitement, frustration, and perhaps final resorts at getting my attention. Anxious to stir up the fire and wonder I once experienced when we were closer, the title simply asks if I've lost my sense of amazement. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sure, it's just the title of a sermon. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But I'd rather not see it that way. Instead, I am dumbstruck, overwhelmed, and amazed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-17344663559526119512011-07-20T23:28:00.000-07:002011-07-20T23:28:46.154-07:00Channel surfing has its consequencesWe interrupt our regular programming to bring you a fantastical Chinese creature who seems to have grown an enlarged scrotum on his forehead.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6beiLxwIZuWeu9fcrMknyjvMnQ_E-dNAP1jBPq4qBhXfdXSCGqL1y6HWA0PgmRukFvTeAM5S-PVbG3pObEPKMc_B5-0GkTaHJcVTpiOKlAJ6565NtHx5EInc2CPODabF6U41rn1ZViF1T/s1600/IMG_2000.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6beiLxwIZuWeu9fcrMknyjvMnQ_E-dNAP1jBPq4qBhXfdXSCGqL1y6HWA0PgmRukFvTeAM5S-PVbG3pObEPKMc_B5-0GkTaHJcVTpiOKlAJ6565NtHx5EInc2CPODabF6U41rn1ZViF1T/s320/IMG_2000.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHjuKqkIAygY0JcQPEwOJxGJ5MrNu8RjfKhHCih-ApNxLASkaSiPVjgCvG89itelBYPap6UT8JnrtJ64hWkdNIHY6hGukKLiP710UbfyuYXES9pJzV7IOD8DgNZs34WFIP_QEeA9wEpKK/s1600/IMG_2002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHjuKqkIAygY0JcQPEwOJxGJ5MrNu8RjfKhHCih-ApNxLASkaSiPVjgCvG89itelBYPap6UT8JnrtJ64hWkdNIHY6hGukKLiP710UbfyuYXES9pJzV7IOD8DgNZs34WFIP_QEeA9wEpKK/s320/IMG_2002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Brownie points to whomever can come up with the best captions for these photos.Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-21476947231286799312011-07-16T09:55:00.000-07:002011-07-16T09:55:35.221-07:00A Humble ReturnI've been absent for quite some time. While I'm sure it was an absence not deeply felt, I can't attribute it to unbearable busy-ness, mundaneness of daily Beijing living, or even laziness.<br />
<br />
This semester has been extremely long for multiple reasons- difficult students, boring curriculum, and adjustments to married life, being among them. At the end of the semester, I had a bit of a meltdown when I realized how I'd let myself down in nearly all capacities. I hadn't kept up my first home, or cooked enough, I didn't spend enough quality time with Chinese friends and students, I hadn't been the teacher my students deserved, I didn't exercise enough, and as we all know, I didn't keep up the blog.<br />
<br />
I've started this blog entry about eight times. Each time I did, the entry felt inadequate. Who would actually be interested in reading about a new recipe I'd tried or the new oven we finally got, or my first disappointing trip I took to the ocean? Who was interested in my photos when there are thousands of blogs out there brimming with DSLR gems and impressive angles? And as I kept thinking about how overwhelmingly average I was, I found just another reason to delete my drafts. And while this blog isn't truly an extension of my entire being, it seems that the inadequacy I felt about my blog stemmed from feeling inadequate myself. Why would anyone be interested in anything I had to share when it would simply be disappointing?<br />
<br />
Well, here we are, eight drafts later, and somehow I found something to write about. Today, I was singing in the shower (Jason is away for two weeks, teaching at an English camp, so I indulged myself), and the song that kept coming back to me was one by David Crowder.<br />
<br />
"He is jealous for me. Loves like a hurricane, and I am a tree, bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy... He loves us, oh how he loves us."<br />
<br />
I've heard and sung this song hundreds of times, but this time, I was struck by the amazing juxtaposition of those first two lines. Overwhelmed by a love that is more powerful, wider, and weightier than anything I could possibly imagine, I am simply a sprout in the ground encased in the typhoon of his greatness. His power transforms lives and maintains galaxies. The creator of love, justice, mercy, and goodness. <br />
<br />
<b>And yet, he is jealous for me. </b><br />
<br />
He feels pain when I reject him. He longs for my company when I am caught up in the little, meaningless things in life that too easily become so important. In my underdeveloped sapling state, he fights for me, and finds me absolutely adequate. More than simply adequate. He finds me precious.<br />
<br />
All this to say, life hasn't been especially interesting. Yes, I do have a few things I'd like to share from the past few months that I haven't managed to post up on this blog. But this necessary reminder forgoes any sort of China-anecdote or rant that my experience on this world could offer. Because the experience of being pursued relentlessly by the Author of Love is certainly enough to get me to start writing again. <br />
<br />
Because it's by His grace and love that I am adequate.Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-9306577899537923442011-05-19T01:31:00.000-07:002011-05-19T01:31:25.497-07:00Whoo-Wee! (Jie)May 1st was China's May Day Holiday, otherwise known as Wu Yi Jie (which sounds like "Whoo-Wee!" if you say it really quickly). I'm not really sure of the origins of Wu Yi Jie, but I believe it's something akin to America's Labor Day. It began as a one-week holiday, but I guess that was just too much fun for a country like China, so they shortened it to a measly 24-hours. My students usually go shopping that day because there are a ton of good deals. A ton of people brave the crowds and travel.<br />
<br />
We were lucky this year because our buddy Lance came to visit us while he was in China on a month-long business trip in Shanghai. Beijing is just a quick two-hour plane ride or so, and it was such a blessing to see a familiar face and share our lives in China with him.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkFUbhkfn8PwQsd9MmbdGUE6qxgFBMQdVAhdTcl4gfjhIpx_tSckqgjYsORci_E6fRkEihVLom0Fp-ltlpi3l41RTs5cGpwJ6m-gr3581YfzjXFa109HgMngD2xaioxTwNlPXWCkM-ftTi/s1600/Lance+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkFUbhkfn8PwQsd9MmbdGUE6qxgFBMQdVAhdTcl4gfjhIpx_tSckqgjYsORci_E6fRkEihVLom0Fp-ltlpi3l41RTs5cGpwJ6m-gr3581YfzjXFa109HgMngD2xaioxTwNlPXWCkM-ftTi/s640/Lance+1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When tourists attack...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Given that it was an official holiday, we fully expected there to be a ton of crowds at all the major tourist sites, so we decided to give Lance a more local walking tour of Beijing. We walked through the hutongs and down Nanluoguxiang-- a really neat "bohemian" street with a ton of little shops, bars and restaurants, and snack stalls. We walked through Houhai Lake and past the Drum and Bell Tower. Basically, we walked a lot.<br />
<br />
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<br />
We took public transportation a LOT.<br />
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And we didn't just take pictures of the backs of each others' heads.<br />
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Of course, we ate a lot of really tasty grub. Lance is a fellow yogurt enthusiast (Jason isn't so much into yogurt), and his wife, Amy, had told him about famous Beijing yogurt. Plus, eating yogurt is one of the best ways to fight indigestion or traveler's diarrhea-- two things that are almost guaranteed to visit you while you visit China. Suffice it to say that a good deal of yogurt was consumed in our three days together.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcrNIhxdRgkeXPs5vZp-oKBtgUZzysBeuDYJveGHPmwvanW0ygtfHetqiog93KlxAexwiGKinyhaCkUp0bQu2UtZowuxBsBIhXeG47axvtamMfQuuqryGeh12Xsw5WUSVfUG5kgdOEnrOW/s1600/Mayday14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcrNIhxdRgkeXPs5vZp-oKBtgUZzysBeuDYJveGHPmwvanW0ygtfHetqiog93KlxAexwiGKinyhaCkUp0bQu2UtZowuxBsBIhXeG47axvtamMfQuuqryGeh12Xsw5WUSVfUG5kgdOEnrOW/s320/Mayday14.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iced fruit tea at Bellagio<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04cpfR5H1Shqx6I7qG5Uz9bOKme0XtsuZmSIKLVOSQRIOdoCenm_kr0vGBFzxjNy54P_mmvlI4lseIJo1wAWmBf4LZLac8TCs-0J73WbaqUaVWCibO5ElkpsxFjrj9gMwV11STR9Lv7uM/s1600/Mayday15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04cpfR5H1Shqx6I7qG5Uz9bOKme0XtsuZmSIKLVOSQRIOdoCenm_kr0vGBFzxjNy54P_mmvlI4lseIJo1wAWmBf4LZLac8TCs-0J73WbaqUaVWCibO5ElkpsxFjrj9gMwV11STR9Lv7uM/s320/Mayday15.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mango Coconut Milk shaved ice at Bellagio</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNh58YQKbJUf0aDomf4IzmMaMQAM_0OMBBlWy-mqf_eKB6kUtW2Uuy54Eg9YH4ey2_qILWY7IHgG4kKsUSgRHDKtkjEsW-SHNqaRPS1ytqw9TeiTb6ANroIIh-Wz7X5I0ksrOxnmux4by/s1600/Mayday16.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNh58YQKbJUf0aDomf4IzmMaMQAM_0OMBBlWy-mqf_eKB6kUtW2Uuy54Eg9YH4ey2_qILWY7IHgG4kKsUSgRHDKtkjEsW-SHNqaRPS1ytqw9TeiTb6ANroIIh-Wz7X5I0ksrOxnmux4by/s320/Mayday16.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lance and his first cup of Beijing yogurt</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPoaAT75AZTCKipqdlYNwtLC9mof8zveQEhTiUZgnqhh2YyxlBuL9VPK8EiIspd_AFO41kJ58mAcE-IRR8Rh3MKvJgqn6IPzyYi7LEWTiLzsjYfmGEBsN-MsWatoMx30tnMmbRBznMAsZP/s1600/Mayday17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPoaAT75AZTCKipqdlYNwtLC9mof8zveQEhTiUZgnqhh2YyxlBuL9VPK8EiIspd_AFO41kJ58mAcE-IRR8Rh3MKvJgqn6IPzyYi7LEWTiLzsjYfmGEBsN-MsWatoMx30tnMmbRBznMAsZP/s320/Mayday17.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beijing Yogurt comes in a tiny clay jug that you can keep for an extra 1 kuai. <br />
Each cup is covered by a little piece of printed wax paper, secured by a rubber band.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhblh3hvuSMBHRn2t_iKfQhyphenhyphenYW-ArSzDcjBZ4nYtXzGDuGHwwWbDbaHHv1P7m7JYWW3VOlGivyOaiO4A0_IwaXkfuEz_BEmSEkOfpdwMg_MYFelTbP3LYE-7nBGxrBYetXx-_ABni0dPr7o/s1600/Mayday18.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhblh3hvuSMBHRn2t_iKfQhyphenhyphenYW-ArSzDcjBZ4nYtXzGDuGHwwWbDbaHHv1P7m7JYWW3VOlGivyOaiO4A0_IwaXkfuEz_BEmSEkOfpdwMg_MYFelTbP3LYE-7nBGxrBYetXx-_ABni0dPr7o/s320/Mayday18.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lance and me with some friends having hot pot for dinner.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Even though we wished his trip could have lasted longer, we were so glad to have our very first visitor to our home. We miss you, Lance! Hurry back, and bring Amy with you next time!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkOSD3erSgi5ChviuIw3tgSvpCQTX-mZYNgzpJSGeqkDhI0vDHo8dMAfo04GQAtT6jvuAS3-QnaLSlxYYTRRFHZOXL6eIYtoo7jBan4KVvWaHEc2DHWpgGd0yS8w55C9RbamFvDzn5oLX8/s1600/Mayday19.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkOSD3erSgi5ChviuIw3tgSvpCQTX-mZYNgzpJSGeqkDhI0vDHo8dMAfo04GQAtT6jvuAS3-QnaLSlxYYTRRFHZOXL6eIYtoo7jBan4KVvWaHEc2DHWpgGd0yS8w55C9RbamFvDzn5oLX8/s320/Mayday19.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lance in his favorite chair at our apartment</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-28601810875829741492011-05-19T00:26:00.000-07:002011-05-19T01:37:19.539-07:00Oh, the times...... they are a-changin'. As evidenced by these two construction site signs.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Spotted in Zhuhai, Guangdong Province. February 2009</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOMV9cra6NRlLVZiWvtltv60VIhEva2_3T1uB6WJFJ2aX6WK24RNA1rDghKLCthvLUjT7pDS7NDDf1hK406Q-b1Yu-i-yGuqKZMcL0reTPGTLtthj9SmiliZM6WOVOjWB56znB9aMI8g1a/s1600/Old.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOMV9cra6NRlLVZiWvtltv60VIhEva2_3T1uB6WJFJ2aX6WK24RNA1rDghKLCthvLUjT7pDS7NDDf1hK406Q-b1Yu-i-yGuqKZMcL0reTPGTLtthj9SmiliZM6WOVOjWB56znB9aMI8g1a/s400/Old.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Spotted near the Forbidden City in Beijing. May 2011</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLx3r6OgvVUfpLn4OsAsBwiR_nRbu7K1jjaTYwP666EpQHOJdYX6jTVgk8sQdXagBB8nyugXK6f3ZnRMT8tn4Fq-rTpL9rr2m6CjCNCzEIsS2GB20hp8smtzwgmIpmDrEMwO1_tV9Ru8j/s1600/new.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLx3r6OgvVUfpLn4OsAsBwiR_nRbu7K1jjaTYwP666EpQHOJdYX6jTVgk8sQdXagBB8nyugXK6f3ZnRMT8tn4Fq-rTpL9rr2m6CjCNCzEIsS2GB20hp8smtzwgmIpmDrEMwO1_tV9Ru8j/s400/new.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm not going to try and assign some symbolic significance to this change, although I have to say it might be a sign that things are starting to be taken less seriously around these parts. Or... things are starting to be cuter. Or... construction workers are getting to be too young.</div>Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-34972384554072272792011-05-08T06:05:00.000-07:002011-05-08T06:05:59.341-07:00A Tale of Two BagelsWhen living in China, you find that the littlest joys of life are what redeem all of your gloomy China days. For me, the littlest joys often come in the form of food (not surprisingly)-- namely shopping for food. Shopping for home comforts in Beijing is certainly easier than it is in other parts of good ol' <i>Zhongguo </i>(that's 'China' in Mandarin), but one cannot imagine the joy that comes with discovering that the things that seemed unattainable can be reached just by going around the corner.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bagels: Not available right around the corner, unfortunately.<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Parchment paper, aluminum foil, soda water, decent non-sweet cheese, unsalted butter, and-- my personal favorite--<b>cream cheese</b>. There's a local Chinese brand here that makes a great cream cheese, and say what you may about the<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2008_Chinese_milk_scandal"> safety of Chinese dairy</a>, I'll risk it if it means I can sink my teeth into that creamy, buttery, sour tart goodness that is cream cheese. (By the<a href="http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/foodwine/2014994537_chinafood08.html"> looks of it</a>, if the food here hasn't severely harmed my health by now, then I'm probably good to go. At least, until I grow a third eye or my urine becomes radioactive, or something.)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-8EPZ1u-bIhnxCXlplyqc9iWUwRcAh5X82wDNMfxqtfDkg8xCqIC1reWXD3zv59r1sDf42V_aa_Vk06X7b5oX73puCnOGPaJlJgmuEOqEjFzX-Ds-thIl47NtJEpvv16T8QIM-fJp-iGM/s1600/IMG_1889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-8EPZ1u-bIhnxCXlplyqc9iWUwRcAh5X82wDNMfxqtfDkg8xCqIC1reWXD3zv59r1sDf42V_aa_Vk06X7b5oX73puCnOGPaJlJgmuEOqEjFzX-Ds-thIl47NtJEpvv16T8QIM-fJp-iGM/s400/IMG_1889.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Contrary to what the brand may state, the cream cheese is not "suki." Haha.<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Finding cream cheese, of course, means that bagels must also be found. Let me tell you something about Chinese bread. Well, it sucks. It's full of air, with absolutely no nutritional value. So I set out to make my own bagels. One recipe I used came from <a href="http://budgetbytes.blogspot.com/">Budget Bytes</a>, which is much faster and yields a decent crop of bagels. The other recipe was a combination of one for Sourdough Bagels from one of my favorite cooking blogs,<a href="http://chocolateandzucchini.com/"> Chocolate and Zucchini</a>, and another recipe from my other favorite cooking blog, <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/">Smitten Kitchen</a>. Both cite the same recipe from Peter Reinhart's book <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bread-Bakers-Apprentice-Mastering-Extraordinary/dp/1580082688">The Bread Baker's Apprentice</a></i>, with their own personal tweaks. The latter recipe requires a sponge to be made, then the dough to be proofed overnight, then the bagels are shaped, boiled, then baked. If you don't know what that means, that's okay, most people don't.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7uJ98YfJrCAmWB8PF8aRDyOjGQZS_FndRRq5auZPonHKO_amuVJGkSZqP36mTNBpruWLKD14ex5Gt8BduQAROL0zZkThf64Z8I_9ETrhy4M413C-0VeqFL6brdR1y4y3kTf3hrGn-WqA/s1600/IMG_1832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7uJ98YfJrCAmWB8PF8aRDyOjGQZS_FndRRq5auZPonHKO_amuVJGkSZqP36mTNBpruWLKD14ex5Gt8BduQAROL0zZkThf64Z8I_9ETrhy4M413C-0VeqFL6brdR1y4y3kTf3hrGn-WqA/s400/IMG_1832.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top: Sponge for Peter Reinhart's Bagels fermenting. Bottom: Budget Bytes bagel dough</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZv-9e89S-w_Lk20MlaP3qdG3pdGUvRY386U9NhY8PnThu3F_OTVdZbnEEbeZp8AWHVIVjBhx_T1-evU31AyQvzPFOU6n8Enc6fDzKXShDhDRZsilxZJj6Dsj_AwPJtr_dXXGnn0NIYBZa/s1600/IMG_1833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZv-9e89S-w_Lk20MlaP3qdG3pdGUvRY386U9NhY8PnThu3F_OTVdZbnEEbeZp8AWHVIVjBhx_T1-evU31AyQvzPFOU6n8Enc6fDzKXShDhDRZsilxZJj6Dsj_AwPJtr_dXXGnn0NIYBZa/s400/IMG_1833.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Budget Bytes bagels after second rise<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The final word is that work and time definitely pay off. While the Budget Bytes recipe delivered nice, speedy results, they weren't as chewy on the outside and soft on the inside, the way bagels ought to be, and how I remember them. That said, the work and time are quite an investment. Between proofing the dough, shaping the bagels, letting them rest, boiling them, then baking them, I found myself wondering why I would go through such great lengths for just a taste of home.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_h871e17k-LqtVzT4CNhrGcoxqWObBNuOZlk6jQ2te8EDYa2Cd-X-3XL-JqTXGBfAS-_HKHLHPF9KqAAAz-uhzFfNvR8wZVCutct8E8w867RGhhnWB7y5sb2Hxrk7_V0v0ty26EJfsZd/s1600/IMG_1887.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_h871e17k-LqtVzT4CNhrGcoxqWObBNuOZlk6jQ2te8EDYa2Cd-X-3XL-JqTXGBfAS-_HKHLHPF9KqAAAz-uhzFfNvR8wZVCutct8E8w867RGhhnWB7y5sb2Hxrk7_V0v0ty26EJfsZd/s400/IMG_1887.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sesame Bagels straight out of the oven</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
All I can think of is this: I don't know when I'll be going "home" to America. And to be extremely honest, I don't know where home is. I wouldn't go so far as to say that China is my home, but I would say that living with the expectation and to want move on as quickly as I can to the next thing--simply because I'm not comfortable--is no way to live at all. And so, even if it takes 24 hours of proofing and a few minutes of boiling and baking, we do our best to make a home here with what we have.<br />
<br />
And in the meantime, I've also learned new things to add to this whole idea of what "home" is. Like putting peanut butter and tomato slices on a toasted bagel. Yeah, it sounds crazy, but you'd be surprised at how incredibly tasty it is!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL-A3rb39PV0umjJp21B6moA4b3Os6Z4BIj9_1vCWvezkmJNsCNdl7wnNEBqYuqctqytji6p9cgfG5PciyzrkGUMm3Mzfd5ucNImP-24tTZ8C-sJHZLLv0_sn9M-E-zLMoyXEZJg_8QvvF/s1600/IMG_1888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL-A3rb39PV0umjJp21B6moA4b3Os6Z4BIj9_1vCWvezkmJNsCNdl7wnNEBqYuqctqytji6p9cgfG5PciyzrkGUMm3Mzfd5ucNImP-24tTZ8C-sJHZLLv0_sn9M-E-zLMoyXEZJg_8QvvF/s320/IMG_1888.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-2817158332831121342011-04-24T08:33:00.000-07:002011-04-24T08:33:48.987-07:00American English and Old Beijing<div>The American accent is high in demand in China, where it's considered "standard" English. In China, there is "Standard Mandarin"-- a pure, unaccented version of good ol' <i>putonghua</i>, the language Chairman Mao enforced to become the language of the nation, simply because it was what was spoken in the capital. I keep reminding my students that there's really no such thing as "Standard English," but years of watching <i>Friends</i> and <i>Prison Break</i> has given many Chinese the impression that if one wants to speak English, they should speak it as Monica and Rachel do when they're bickering in their fabulous Manhattan flat.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Being from California-- where most American TV shows and films are from-- and having a Western American accent has blessed me in the TESL department, since I was born with the "standard" accent. So it was only natural that my friend and colleague, Zhang Kun, asked me to co-teach a Pronunciation Class with him.</div><div><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMM5x6XpUUEzgsFunMwPzYhuzNXgBq13qEjR77uwzQ5oWcGMi7Rait8j0indlsdNH6SbK5AhHbtbHL-QTiMlZFJa0dRFZ0gstAMxlOB6MOjdTLtC7S52ERIDqelOWeREpdbtF9KzmZ0Y6/s1600/AE1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMM5x6XpUUEzgsFunMwPzYhuzNXgBq13qEjR77uwzQ5oWcGMi7Rait8j0indlsdNH6SbK5AhHbtbHL-QTiMlZFJa0dRFZ0gstAMxlOB6MOjdTLtC7S52ERIDqelOWeREpdbtF9KzmZ0Y6/s320/AE1.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My buddy Zhang Kun and me</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>Teaching Pronunciation is a really tricky thing. Imagine trying to tell someone how exactly to manipulate their mouth to make them pronounce "usually," when what keeps coming out is "urally," or to say "think" instead of "sink." Or explaining why your sentences drift up and sink down at certain parts. It ain't easy. Fortunately, Zhang Kun had undergone the long arduous task of trying to perfect the American English accent, though what comes out now is more of a charming marriage of British and Chinese English.</div><div><br />
</div><div>After a few hard weeks of class, Kun offered to give Jason and me a proper introduction to Old Beijing snacks, since we still didn't really know exactly what Beijing cuisine was. He took us to a place that is just about as old school as you can get. You first go to a ticket window, where you buy 50 RMB worth of paper tickets. Then, you go from window to window, exchanging tickets for snacks.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD59y1Kcz6dHj0YpeJESdERlMIW4ioqaUV22IrYKw1-nuLxTNoL60R_MTDbsFmFVYat7VV3EMJ5Qe2BQA5WgzejovzoPeW1XQ4V8T15mw__ll1MP2pxwk0VuQEJaFSI95QomcRpEjwFj9g/s1600/IMG_1858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD59y1Kcz6dHj0YpeJESdERlMIW4ioqaUV22IrYKw1-nuLxTNoL60R_MTDbsFmFVYat7VV3EMJ5Qe2BQA5WgzejovzoPeW1XQ4V8T15mw__ll1MP2pxwk0VuQEJaFSI95QomcRpEjwFj9g/s320/IMG_1858.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snack offerings and illustrated menus</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>Beijing snacks are-- at best-- interesting. It's mostly marked by fatty meats, sesame flavoring, and a lot of heavy, oil-laden fried things. Neither Jason nor I were big fans, but we were grateful for the experience.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtxEMleGuxniNtuqyZeOM9mmFJceM_8wAz9rppR78yRJqHfvy4GFNF9biszTK9MBhtpnle4U2cLyjJopqKW22pNoOneY8hGqVr2ru5W83QsdH7MsZVJUwuENy_uNRmqVmK7WKcHzGXPvCC/s1600/IMG_1851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtxEMleGuxniNtuqyZeOM9mmFJceM_8wAz9rppR78yRJqHfvy4GFNF9biszTK9MBhtpnle4U2cLyjJopqKW22pNoOneY8hGqVr2ru5W83QsdH7MsZVJUwuENy_uNRmqVmK7WKcHzGXPvCC/s400/IMG_1851.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>No, this is not a bowl brimming with sewage! It's sesame soup! It's basically made of a thick, starchy paste topped with sesame paste mixed with oil. I wasn't nuts about it, but I managed to put down a few spoonfuls before feeling completely full from all the oil and starch sitting like a rock in my stomach. But there was plenty more to consume, of course...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheFyH9IO0W3Hh_2m8WxTkUQ2ikJ89rHuSXnxXxegE9yavwV6mMS2eWb7kazLQMYQ36stFnKxZZHk77xRvW9K8wq3R2Z4yihXx0wAGP1pO7AMKV8TIxgkd5I1fN8xq75WFpAe7FcBd05uiM/s1600/IMG_1854.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheFyH9IO0W3Hh_2m8WxTkUQ2ikJ89rHuSXnxXxegE9yavwV6mMS2eWb7kazLQMYQ36stFnKxZZHk77xRvW9K8wq3R2Z4yihXx0wAGP1pO7AMKV8TIxgkd5I1fN8xq75WFpAe7FcBd05uiM/s640/IMG_1854.JPG" width="480" /></a></div> It's not an authentic Chinese meal until you eat some unusual animal part. This is a plate of flash-boiled tripe. Despite the aforementioned piping-hot bowl of thick, oily sesame soup waiting for me, the tripe comes with a bowl of sesame paste sauce meant for dipping. I actually quite like tripe, but this wasn't my favorite incarnation of it.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT25_bnzWTEXpS3gkD2k7-v_xkecE-noe83SNDxTgeBISpJdNZue29HsoGIT41N7PeHPPfPOrg7kTAWRWfJyzDWuXbn4H5581vfoYAD4E51HHnJwJCyvMJvWnyZq4Z49WSK3I0kXGt6KYI/s1600/IMG_1856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT25_bnzWTEXpS3gkD2k7-v_xkecE-noe83SNDxTgeBISpJdNZue29HsoGIT41N7PeHPPfPOrg7kTAWRWfJyzDWuXbn4H5581vfoYAD4E51HHnJwJCyvMJvWnyZq4Z49WSK3I0kXGt6KYI/s400/IMG_1856.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div>These little sandwiches were what I had my hope for a good meal riding on. Sadly, they didn't deliver. I've had some excellent versions of the sandwich (called <i>bing </i>in Mandarin), where the meat is juicy, flavorful, and dripping with yummy fats that are soaked in by the sesame seeded bun. What we found were two sad, cold, dry sandwiches lacking in any flavor except salt.</div><div><br />
</div><div><span id="goog_1809636139"></span><span id="goog_1809636140"></span></div><div>After our meal (on which Jason later commented that he'd never eaten at a meal where he didn't like a single thing on the menu), we three decided to take advantage of the rare beautiful Spring weather and take a walk through Beijing's historic area. We passed the back end of the Forbidden City, and Zhang Kun took us to one of the oldest standing Catholic cathedrals in Beijing.<br />
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While we weren't thrilled about the grub, it was a good day. </div>Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-63922657390236293572011-04-17T05:30:00.000-07:002011-04-17T05:30:57.762-07:00Welcome to 27April 9 was Jason's 27th Birthday. We're still a little blown away at how quickly our twenties seem to be rushing by, but our good friend Frieda was quick to remind us how young we are, emphatically insisting that Jason is "far too young to be married!" All musings on age and growing older aside, Jason opted against his usual quiet approach to birthday celebrations and decided to give me a night off from kitchen duty.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhczlV5ms__Vb6g4ssCN8-LAw-F6Z3YpOMn9y8THn5F8R1NiH1qGjlMq0k4GMFh_iljB2r3YF9cH0WzFnwxX4esRCLndZ3UliaKd6ED1agq7pygHMG0FLRzUuT_5YURjpWAu4KBOJaw7dQ_/s1600/IMG_1847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhczlV5ms__Vb6g4ssCN8-LAw-F6Z3YpOMn9y8THn5F8R1NiH1qGjlMq0k4GMFh_iljB2r3YF9cH0WzFnwxX4esRCLndZ3UliaKd6ED1agq7pygHMG0FLRzUuT_5YURjpWAu4KBOJaw7dQ_/s400/IMG_1847.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jason with our buddy and Firefly student, Paul, at dinner</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We met up with our good friends at our campus's Xinjiang Muslim Restaurant. Xinjiang food is mostly carbs and protein (so Jason was pretty stoked), and in following with Muslim doctrine, doesn't serve pork or seafood. Being that beef in China is rather expensive, you're left with lots of chicken and mutton options, which Xinjiang folks do extremely well. I have to hand it to people in China for serving up some seriously tasty, non-gamey mutton. Here's a peak at what we feasted on.<br />
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Of course, being me, I simply couldn't let Jason go on and have a birthday without a proper dessert to give his big day a good finish. And of course, Jason simply wouldn't let me spend the 150 RMB (about $23 USD) it would cost to buy a little cake at a local bakery. He made a special request for chocolate chip cookies and cupcakes. I went with <a href="http://allrecipes.com//Recipe/best-chocolate-chip-cookies/Detail.aspx">this recipe</a> for the cookies (lives up to its name) and some awesome Eton Mess Cupcakes, courtesy of <a href="http://mingmakescupcakes.yolasite.com/">Ming Makes Cupcakes</a>.<br />
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Eton Mess, for those who may not be in the know, is a British tasty treat hailing from Prince William's alma mater, comprised of meringue, whipped cream, and strawberries. Not to be confused with Pavlova, which is the only other meringue-based dessert that brings me joy (don't even get me started on meringue-topped pies).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz1PsQ3J0t2gO3fH4Lr0EATyqneGbyf88_ZkWV4Ti8q_7GagCuX7JGwrLOkWs5m5SIs_7ZWoCCS9tsGjM8D8s2srntECgKCsXKIi-3Bb0G6jvdYU_HZysOrbGRTTVezIQE0JhW3SsCDY0p/s1600/P1000221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz1PsQ3J0t2gO3fH4Lr0EATyqneGbyf88_ZkWV4Ti8q_7GagCuX7JGwrLOkWs5m5SIs_7ZWoCCS9tsGjM8D8s2srntECgKCsXKIi-3Bb0G6jvdYU_HZysOrbGRTTVezIQE0JhW3SsCDY0p/s400/P1000221.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I made little J's out of meringue in honor of the Birthday Boy. Or is it Birthday Man?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birthday Boy/Man enjoying his Eton Mess Cupcake</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
I'm pretty sure that every single time I introduce Jason to anyone in China, they immediately express is their shock and amazement at how handsome he is. Sometimes, it's hard to not take that personally-- like I'm actually supposed to be married to <a href="http://www.gunaxin.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/sloth-2.jpg">Sloth</a><a href="http://www.gunaxin.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/sloth-2.jpg"> from <i>The Goonies</i></a><i> </i>instead, and by some crazy turn of events, I completely lucked out and married a good lookin' human being. <br />
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Well, all this self-deprecation is healthy for no one, so I simply take the compliments as an excuse to gush about how, yeah, he is really handsome. Isn't he? Of course, all the people who remark on how handsome Jason is don't have the great privilege of knowing that his personality outshines his appearance. They don't know that when his wife stomps around the kitchen throwing things because it's too early on a Saturday and she hasn't had coffee yet, he sits patiently and waits for her to become sane again. They don't see how hard he works at being better as a teacher, husband, servant of the Kingdom day after day, humbly and without expectations for praise or reward in return. They don't know what he looks like shuffling about the apartment in his pajamas, singing Musiq Soulchild and checking his email. And they certainly don't know how fun it is being married to him.<br />
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But I do. Happy Birthday, Husband. I so look forward to finding out all the other things about you that other people won't know.Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-71874742209058630862011-04-06T00:00:00.000-07:002011-04-06T07:36:08.304-07:00Tomb Sweeping DayHello, world. This past weekend was the first "holiday" of the semester-- Qing Ming Jie, translated as Tomb Sweeping Holiday, which is literally what families across China actually do on this holiday. Qing Ming Jie is a day devoted to honoring loved ones, relatives, and ancestors who've passed on. Families go home to maintain their family plots and "worship" their ancestors, asking for good luck and prosperity. <br />
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</div><div>Another part of Qing Ming Jie tradition is to give "offerings" to your relatives by burning replicas of things that you think they might need in their respective afterlives. Traditionally, copies of paper money is burnt... I guess so your ancestors can finally get that Snickers Bar they've been eyeing at the Afterlife Concession Stand. But plain ol' cash simply won't do for those who've passed on nowadays, oh no. I learned from my students that paper copies of iPhones, iPads, television sets, cars, even Visas to travel to other countries are available for all your ancestral worship needs.<br />
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</div><div><div>In any case, given that we're sans tomb to sweep, Jason and I decided to take advantage of the beautiful Spring weather that's finally come around to take a walk through old Beijing. Here's a bit of what we saw.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Some hutong doorways.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvh0LP0MxXAdnlsTvQ_aQ9aKbaKAbwSjschYXZFhiUVzCvAS45eNT-ApgUMVYbpKT1UCSk-xDweNUEXTBbYlwvEAwVsEMx5UQMsTo1KNm9jXJWciR9bY2cqVZcHzYcsUqTGKeseSOF03wE/s1600/QMJ2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvh0LP0MxXAdnlsTvQ_aQ9aKbaKAbwSjschYXZFhiUVzCvAS45eNT-ApgUMVYbpKT1UCSk-xDweNUEXTBbYlwvEAwVsEMx5UQMsTo1KNm9jXJWciR9bY2cqVZcHzYcsUqTGKeseSOF03wE/s400/QMJ2.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
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<b>Locals doing what locals do.</b> These men are playing Chinese chess. To the bottom left corner of this photo, you'll also see a disabled man dragging his torso along the ground, begging for money. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizSAjqZJB6lVitnuED1vMbnjwBRo-7G1JzOANFui3U1cKsqrkwm7CExoaOR6RwoMJdkCgDSwo06dJBVvWe3uirw_thyphenhyphenL7aAQOJ0fxVUyyjGpdc3hBZyOUcqOcF6A0OTASkfBOai8ozr8U-/s1600/QMJ8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizSAjqZJB6lVitnuED1vMbnjwBRo-7G1JzOANFui3U1cKsqrkwm7CExoaOR6RwoMJdkCgDSwo06dJBVvWe3uirw_thyphenhyphenL7aAQOJ0fxVUyyjGpdc3hBZyOUcqOcF6A0OTASkfBOai8ozr8U-/s640/QMJ8.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div>This particular area (Guanzijie) is down the street from the Confucian Temple and Museum, and near Yong He Gong Buddhist Temple, so it's a hot spot for tourists, which means a lot of panhandling. The street is lined with Buddhist fortune tellers, where people can give a sum of money to hear about their futures. While I was taking this picture, I found myself wondering about the future of this beggar. Would anyone in his family ever burn a paper car, television set, or iPhone for him when he's passed, when I'm sure all he wanted during his time on earth was enough to fill his belly and the ability to use his legs.</div></div><div><br />
</div><div>Of course, it's not a proper day walking around China without your dose of <b>Chingrish signage</b>. For the record, Funny Socks was closed, but from what I could tell about it, it was a real estate office. Yup.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRLOGgiIn9K6qSdA1iHBn1jYpNw1XLraFyBfidiDOxGE84G1v7pnUgN73EndVkh_8rofxnFb-wOg94wi_PmxNFx2HRKCBuW1c7B76liFKdfcjdEQaWGBEackIqNe0U8E4uNwPHBEHua2VT/s1600/QMJ1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRLOGgiIn9K6qSdA1iHBn1jYpNw1XLraFyBfidiDOxGE84G1v7pnUgN73EndVkh_8rofxnFb-wOg94wi_PmxNFx2HRKCBuW1c7B76liFKdfcjdEQaWGBEackIqNe0U8E4uNwPHBEHua2VT/s400/QMJ1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div>We decided to stop for some lunch. This little Xiao Long Bao (steamed dumplings filled with meat and soup) joint looked pretty good, and the two men working inside urged us to come in. Sure, it wasn't considered what most would call fine dining, but we thought we'd give it a shot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiErORVUKmzC7muQg1PcA1wi_z31AVU8PqHdEhDnrdzi2iSQT8AhXnkO6GtddqvZhx-VPoiksCkv-kznq3LPUsalyX-HswrkFjDBgBsppg-mCUefLTKt5INj9hjSuQOymTENNh7JhIjlHxL/s1600/QMJ9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiErORVUKmzC7muQg1PcA1wi_z31AVU8PqHdEhDnrdzi2iSQT8AhXnkO6GtddqvZhx-VPoiksCkv-kznq3LPUsalyX-HswrkFjDBgBsppg-mCUefLTKt5INj9hjSuQOymTENNh7JhIjlHxL/s400/QMJ9.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSGmSgTVpZf0yhp3DjIQVOsr3nqTEflO8aC6W2jYBlorXnLAg-ujA8LqswuW3_EwwJQVikwSVYb6euQqRydl1pBQdQRYVqBbK8Vr13WU0eC7Kqz24GxpOBB1XLWDMuPaUKlWA2rqEZiMB8/s1600/QMJ11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSGmSgTVpZf0yhp3DjIQVOsr3nqTEflO8aC6W2jYBlorXnLAg-ujA8LqswuW3_EwwJQVikwSVYb6euQqRydl1pBQdQRYVqBbK8Vr13WU0eC7Kqz24GxpOBB1XLWDMuPaUKlWA2rqEZiMB8/s400/QMJ11.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBAlcsSGN1CmrlXH5GABRIN_LLsXZyTCpPlV4-HmJhsWCYsBNuX9N3vtFgViYnD3o5cJEnJwJPM2uhPyWbXEPyYDAF7DcX9ajtEFA0Xgb4UIAf9kO0d4-MhWaBm-uvfjGY52zUp7Nmux0/s1600/QMJ12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBAlcsSGN1CmrlXH5GABRIN_LLsXZyTCpPlV4-HmJhsWCYsBNuX9N3vtFgViYnD3o5cJEnJwJPM2uhPyWbXEPyYDAF7DcX9ajtEFA0Xgb4UIAf9kO0d4-MhWaBm-uvfjGY52zUp7Nmux0/s400/QMJ12.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div>While the dumplings were tasty and filled us up, they made a rather unwelcome, speedy return visit just one hour later, which necessitated a detour on our subway ride home. I won't go too far into detail, but I'll simply say that given how few tissues I had on me, I was grateful that I'd brought along last month's issue of Time Out Magazine in my backpack. The bright side to all of this is that I found out that subway toilets are a lot cleaner than one would assume!</div><div><br />
</div><div>In the midst of experiencing bits and pieces of "Lao Beijing," we inevitably ran into the cold concrete and soaring immensity of New Beijing, which continues to sprout up and overtake the city without warning. In its own way, New Beijing was also the uninvited guest in many households this Qing Ming Jie, as many Beijing families had to dig up the ashes of their relatives to find a new burial site for them, as they'd been informed by the government that a new building is set to be built on what was the resting place for their parents, grandparents, and ancestors' remains.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Just around the corner from the small hutong where we'd spied on kids playing hide-and-seek by ducking behind wooden wheeled carts, old Beijing seniors chatting with one another, and lap dogs lounging in the sunshine, I saw these three identically giant buildings.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizqxAUDlanf_Lt02VyHyNCQSeJmiPXFR3c_OafZvRHNz7jXUF2qOiRwanKKhxbsjWArhYk4hkKjHTCi684xEjK1lutntKJXw-4I6VERYFM6WDrG-lHdGZjkFDj8lQoxseljUxh1ftPpD-w/s1600/QMJ14.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizqxAUDlanf_Lt02VyHyNCQSeJmiPXFR3c_OafZvRHNz7jXUF2qOiRwanKKhxbsjWArhYk4hkKjHTCi684xEjK1lutntKJXw-4I6VERYFM6WDrG-lHdGZjkFDj8lQoxseljUxh1ftPpD-w/s640/QMJ14.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>Old Beijing, I hope that by this time next year, we won't be burning paper money in your memory as well. Cheers.</div>Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-18488779689591761082011-03-23T23:19:00.000-07:002011-03-23T23:27:44.302-07:00Frat StanreyOkay, okay, I know. As an English teacher in China, it's totally unprofessional and insensitive of me to take such a cheap shot at the ever-elusive Asian accent. Sometimes, though, I do think that <i>speaking</i> English is overrated when actually understanding and interpreting accents is the true challenge in championing the English language. I mean, what would you think if your student said the following to you?<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">"In zer countryside, some time you weel find some unhygienic sh*ts on the bed. In a hotaire. You know hotaire? They don't often cling the sh*ts. So, you must pay much monays to go to a nicer one to slip on the cling sh*ts."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">True story, folks. Translation: "In the countryside, sometimes you will find the sheets on the beds in hotels are not clean, as the sheets are often left unwashed between stays. So it's worth it to pay a bit more to stay in a higher-end hotel where you can sleep on clean sheets."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">But that's totally not the point of this blog post. As stated in the title, I wanted to tell you about Flat Stanley (whose Chinese name is Frat Stanrey), who was sent via envelope from my cousin's home in Pleasanton, CA to spend some time with me in Beijing.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQnC00xAsRQiIfDWvO6DQPqRWsfeQYUl5sN0R3Xl65XlLTXAZDk4XeHQ1qlt-OzhfmnGq8soZg8nko5yL_KwulxXhiL594FRZoajQtA0TAW4PlkDg_pp-Uf8PawMh274TPY5s6yZ32V_tI/s1600/FS1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQnC00xAsRQiIfDWvO6DQPqRWsfeQYUl5sN0R3Xl65XlLTXAZDk4XeHQ1qlt-OzhfmnGq8soZg8nko5yL_KwulxXhiL594FRZoajQtA0TAW4PlkDg_pp-Uf8PawMh274TPY5s6yZ32V_tI/s400/FS1.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">In case you haven't figured it out by reading this blog, my life is actually quite boring. Work, home, work, home. Sometimes I'll bake something. That didn't stop Flat Stanley from seeing the sights, though! (Like the little Chinese track suit I gave him? His hat says "Bei Yu Xiao Xue," for BLCU Primary School. Represent!) Here are Flat Stanley's Greatest Hits from his trip to China.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BeiHai Park, Beijing</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forbidden City, Beijing</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpZKOQnpo10qeTQx0bFpPhDgE-ri1IVaNIQms_pPSAESVhKsQCeDbthqp-DLVLa3pJdHFZvFrdLyACy2lOA43XVf0WMRgvLSyPVAw4HgmbL6U7kAKhE2-k50h7rW_LAvdRAjps1ptgMsie/s1600/IMG_1793.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpZKOQnpo10qeTQx0bFpPhDgE-ri1IVaNIQms_pPSAESVhKsQCeDbthqp-DLVLa3pJdHFZvFrdLyACy2lOA43XVf0WMRgvLSyPVAw4HgmbL6U7kAKhE2-k50h7rW_LAvdRAjps1ptgMsie/s400/IMG_1793.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Map of Beijing at a bus stop</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bus schedule</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrPERbPcjNXDRqy4NpHp1_loF59rRbqlxbC2aPpQAzqz4r3yPb-aYO23N4JWI059GMnkXkph7ESJwqG7ZSSE5uCf93e7KEpJtOybzSMC_1Y_9DUiCRTvn9gzb6mOsWor5MLbEdGHHEioM6/s1600/IMG_1795.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrPERbPcjNXDRqy4NpHp1_loF59rRbqlxbC2aPpQAzqz4r3yPb-aYO23N4JWI059GMnkXkph7ESJwqG7ZSSE5uCf93e7KEpJtOybzSMC_1Y_9DUiCRTvn9gzb6mOsWor5MLbEdGHHEioM6/s400/IMG_1795.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Flat Stanley got to "visit" two places that I still have yet to travel to! The grasslands of Mongolia and Jiuzhaigou Valley in Sichuan Province!*<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRRkP2nio4rMGf1xOKtbSenBnzLVy6rCpcEnDC8tAHxWpynVulHAXRcV4Wm_OPJiukKrWbC6KCDp3Ehcoe71IJLAyFh3UOnAwLYCRNlDwgxqQ97_AX5YvFpPpzfp71Tlux_0Qi_0pgp5nC/s1600/IMG_1797.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRRkP2nio4rMGf1xOKtbSenBnzLVy6rCpcEnDC8tAHxWpynVulHAXRcV4Wm_OPJiukKrWbC6KCDp3Ehcoe71IJLAyFh3UOnAwLYCRNlDwgxqQ97_AX5YvFpPpzfp71Tlux_0Qi_0pgp5nC/s400/IMG_1797.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ride 'em, Mongolian cowboy!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgWXtF4ww3nD7VDQRRVS7BCZTivr6QsZ8t9aCSFqHLAv31JjPvxUySgPwItoOJtomGLPZC4eksgHIj1fxgPl1E2TYrFXWCgOHlktSkvjXc8EeiOecQQ0PJhHbPW8cZBsAreFgYVSJeKVB/s1600/IMG_1798.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgWXtF4ww3nD7VDQRRVS7BCZTivr6QsZ8t9aCSFqHLAv31JjPvxUySgPwItoOJtomGLPZC4eksgHIj1fxgPl1E2TYrFXWCgOHlktSkvjXc8EeiOecQQ0PJhHbPW8cZBsAreFgYVSJeKVB/s320/IMG_1798.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jiuzhaigou's natural terraced mineral lakes</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicN2fWfZSvxamvJlB7kC4fKOJPXAnEiubFwSg0HRiEkeXnW0xxsXrPmnnHnOi8vNximf9wd4yS-CEyH8RjYBRTMnKX2DPArr_cQam976Uf_PmmmHleR4c0j_Wuu1kpklvC8yBhFWaFZ8mi/s1600/IMG_1799.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicN2fWfZSvxamvJlB7kC4fKOJPXAnEiubFwSg0HRiEkeXnW0xxsXrPmnnHnOi8vNximf9wd4yS-CEyH8RjYBRTMnKX2DPArr_cQam976Uf_PmmmHleR4c0j_Wuu1kpklvC8yBhFWaFZ8mi/s320/IMG_1799.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What's a trip to China without a little Chingrish?</td></tr>
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Of course, Stanley had his fill of traditional Chinese dishes, plus some Cantonese icy desserts! Yum!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQs9qqh50dDON7jYQ_zFz7BxlwQdwE5TYcGiIsqFG4-F9vn8XnJy3o5H3l3wkCNnVqBwjBbJyqmfDjJ1JmpDsPq-cxS1ZPmS0ylFKjwm2y6q1oZfUvCAGiXKnqtcaAwEfvF5-dwLa-zcV/s1600/IMG_1802.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQs9qqh50dDON7jYQ_zFz7BxlwQdwE5TYcGiIsqFG4-F9vn8XnJy3o5H3l3wkCNnVqBwjBbJyqmfDjJ1JmpDsPq-cxS1ZPmS0ylFKjwm2y6q1oZfUvCAGiXKnqtcaAwEfvF5-dwLa-zcV/s320/IMG_1802.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">All in all, it was an eventful trip for Stanley. Now it's back into the envelope from whence he came. Bon voyage, Flat Stanley! Send my love to my cousins back home! And try your best to steer clear of the unhygienic sh*ts! </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span> </div><div style="text-align: left;">*All right, so he didn't actually <i>go</i> there. But c'mon. We're talking about a paper doll, here, people!</div>Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-53701106553436009712011-03-21T19:17:00.000-07:002011-03-21T19:20:00.595-07:00Art & Film"These are a few of my favorite things." <br />
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I'm back today with a few more images from <a href="http://cathylomax.blogspot.com/">Cathy Lomax</a>, whose work I wrote a little about <a href="http://littlefish-grace.blogspot.com/2011/03/around-world-wide-web.html">yesterday</a>. Here are a few more images that Ms Lomax has generously shared with me to post of her favorite pieces from the series. The names of each painting is written at the bottom corner of the canvas.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5BhyphenhyphenlX_3EicMm53bXcsefSbHYPumtX5qjSoCiANEjcOk8y6G3IyQpn-1oxhPSH95awm1x7I6Y9cgiS7zUy5ONRWP8PvppgQRHrP6U29F_Cam5NjDK870GsGnyrilYdFAS9DV8OcYsMd7n/s1600/02_04_10_He+watched+him+on+TV.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5BhyphenhyphenlX_3EicMm53bXcsefSbHYPumtX5qjSoCiANEjcOk8y6G3IyQpn-1oxhPSH95awm1x7I6Y9cgiS7zUy5ONRWP8PvppgQRHrP6U29F_Cam5NjDK870GsGnyrilYdFAS9DV8OcYsMd7n/s400/02_04_10_He+watched+him+on+TV.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSBjD2eBAr0cHvn3AtbCn0GMTLrmQ85KWhMMPJW2EZEuqzGsVuNR1zgTj2v2U7G4G2tttalSOSYaRCLeRlB99m77r2jEipNGZYJD-An9u7B_tddayI8H2fq381Ex_8frGBa_kGG4UJv-FU/s1600/25_03_10_she+was+sucked+under+by+the+waves.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSBjD2eBAr0cHvn3AtbCn0GMTLrmQ85KWhMMPJW2EZEuqzGsVuNR1zgTj2v2U7G4G2tttalSOSYaRCLeRlB99m77r2jEipNGZYJD-An9u7B_tddayI8H2fq381Ex_8frGBa_kGG4UJv-FU/s400/25_03_10_she+was+sucked+under+by+the+waves.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDNjzr7Ygh6RW08WLAjum36M1kQQRQ-iU4ew3koS0DzZ9h9IWxf3FIHZHpRNKTwzgznmbqUzGZREuZPvZaWC2gkaIOlQsJ5J6w-x1Oee7UvapVFIOjEMEA9WZJd-5G2t4PU58synic2eR3/s1600/29_12_09_her+feet+lifted+off+the+ground.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDNjzr7Ygh6RW08WLAjum36M1kQQRQ-iU4ew3koS0DzZ9h9IWxf3FIHZHpRNKTwzgznmbqUzGZREuZPvZaWC2gkaIOlQsJ5J6w-x1Oee7UvapVFIOjEMEA9WZJd-5G2t4PU58synic2eR3/s400/29_12_09_her+feet+lifted+off+the+ground.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">All images used with permission from Cathy Lomax</span></div><br />
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Here is what Ms Lomax writes about her inspiration and thoughts on the project:<br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The boredom of everyday life is punctuated by episodes of escapism. The most easily accessible escapist experience for most people is provided by film – 90 min slices of someone else’s life.</span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I decided to keep a diary of all the films that I watch, selecting one image from each to make into a small painting titled with a perfunctory explanation of what is happening in that image. This record of what drew me in and kept me rapt could be viewed as one of those arbitrary un-scientific exercises that artists indulge in. But as with any recording of everyday events the choices that I make say something about me and probably define me at this moment as much as anything could.</span></i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This certainly makes me think twice about the </span><a href="http://littlefish-grace.blogspot.com/2011/03/around-world-wide-web.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">pivotal moments</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> I chose to feature from some of my favorite films yesterday. Some are purely sentimental while others are moments that are burned in my brain for their quiet significance, and yes, I do suppose that this does say something about me and what is can be considered pivotal in my life outside of consumption of film. In my relationships and daily life, it is often the quiet, understated acts of kindness or what is silently spoken through subtext that get me thinking, move me, or keep me up at night.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What do you think? What do your favorite movie moments say about you?</span><br />
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</span></i>Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4456871729316563739.post-89213529753328625892011-03-21T09:24:00.000-07:002011-03-21T09:24:47.563-07:00Around the World Wide Web<a href="http://www.mywedding.com/blog">Delightfully Engaged</a>. For our three-part <a href="http://www.mywedding.com/blog/real-couples/real-weddings/a-detailed-filled-outdoor-wedding-from-emily-takes-photos/">wedding feature</a>! Hooray! Plus a few of my thoughts on wedding planning (if you're really bored).<br />
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This fascinating <a href="http://nymag.com/print/?/news/features/67024/">article</a> about what really goes on when you're a parent. (Spoiler: it ain't pretty.)<br />
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<a href="http://cathylomax.blogspot.com/">Cathy</a> Lorax's amazing series "<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/cathylomax/sets/72157625141647934/">Film Diary</a>," in which she recreates pivotal scenes from a wide range of movies. It's really fun to click through and see which movies you recognize.*<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ISvo9tHwusxddfOQh9BqPDmk0HreNBR6UnatNqOO7uAAjwTgl8lTg7yJqm0KyoD5euwGMRFQ4JtZ_yVFrJrPny3G6-xUZsfECgalOGCFXBotTP8Ak_cF2jQOJ54X8PEKXDrciZZJ4Odo/s1600/They+laid+down+next+to+each+other+in+a+meadow..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ISvo9tHwusxddfOQh9BqPDmk0HreNBR6UnatNqOO7uAAjwTgl8lTg7yJqm0KyoD5euwGMRFQ4JtZ_yVFrJrPny3G6-xUZsfECgalOGCFXBotTP8Ak_cF2jQOJ54X8PEKXDrciZZJ4Odo/s400/They+laid+down+next+to+each+other+in+a+meadow..jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From "Film Diary" series, posted with permission from <a href="http://cathylomax.blogspot.com/">Cathy Lomax</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
So, in honor of Ms. Lorax's genius, let's play a little game of "Guess the Movie from the Pivotal Scene," shall we? I don't think we can ever expect to see that name on the outside of a Milton Bradley box any time soon, so my wee little blog will have to suffice for now:<br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b>#1: Two boys race against each other in a filthy motel swimming pool.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih4OSDX1lu6LoJLrvxgKa9PaqtUdbhmJ5JaXWB0_-UOfm_Cy_zdJNsL8BjmEQFFhcc_I6Ui8qP3_A69E7P4SnadCFTnkqXZNwA3KnBql_gU-OQ3QK71lcEY5DSG78MPpdyMYv9nMuyHU4Y/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih4OSDX1lu6LoJLrvxgKa9PaqtUdbhmJ5JaXWB0_-UOfm_Cy_zdJNsL8BjmEQFFhcc_I6Ui8qP3_A69E7P4SnadCFTnkqXZNwA3KnBql_gU-OQ3QK71lcEY5DSG78MPpdyMYv9nMuyHU4Y/s400/Picture+1.png" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b>#2: He pushes broken glass on the ground out of her way with his foot.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gxY9tn7LGeZF-QDKQo9vwrHJV4uNmr4QyeZHTSo4yQafK6StYh2E31tC9nejGNIYBRyCPA1AcnSwxomIvxxlWgfuFAtZpjSie1FIc0eK_e5hyd8EbLGRnIq9yjM0AQGKzfIMH4bUt46G/s1600/Picture+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gxY9tn7LGeZF-QDKQo9vwrHJV4uNmr4QyeZHTSo4yQafK6StYh2E31tC9nejGNIYBRyCPA1AcnSwxomIvxxlWgfuFAtZpjSie1FIc0eK_e5hyd8EbLGRnIq9yjM0AQGKzfIMH4bUt46G/s400/Picture+2.png" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b>#3: A man sees a stranger crying in a theater.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXSG0ep0QHvufBWS3MH4kmeHl54h6Ana_yzwwrgWteROPiZIx0_4IVS9EglcUUhdrzUZ99QhiolBI5ii9JxjS0CFghDrtlwOL0we2ydQyqxAoj_7cuq5eskfOmnErAZqIfr0JT8Wa5-N-h/s1600/Picture+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXSG0ep0QHvufBWS3MH4kmeHl54h6Ana_yzwwrgWteROPiZIx0_4IVS9EglcUUhdrzUZ99QhiolBI5ii9JxjS0CFghDrtlwOL0we2ydQyqxAoj_7cuq5eskfOmnErAZqIfr0JT8Wa5-N-h/s400/Picture+3.png" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><br />
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</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b>#4: They find a dead body in the freezer next to the ice cream.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizyjZ2EEem64TZ0RmirAGVSr2hypfdTv73DZ_hcd_sKT8Kk5mCsaoqUyZ7GLz0kpKtkrkBTc4OW1wk-kAp639MdioWmCVY2qP_9k-WNC3293RzpqD_sNoSmgix1pn_3HJgXWUc0avwGcij/s1600/Picture+5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizyjZ2EEem64TZ0RmirAGVSr2hypfdTv73DZ_hcd_sKT8Kk5mCsaoqUyZ7GLz0kpKtkrkBTc4OW1wk-kAp639MdioWmCVY2qP_9k-WNC3293RzpqD_sNoSmgix1pn_3HJgXWUc0avwGcij/s400/Picture+5.png" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><br />
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</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b>#5: A man moves into a familiar apartment, and puts his cigarettes on the shelf over his bed.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jR7ckF_zsOMsJQwm0XE4KfsGtz9c6SNycUU7WZUx7sYon1n6pS9kwHYLqDcwFFoRi4j9uFKmsOJ5eefVgfby0r8GrLi4EuR-ooEaDrCRc99AOUHd0c0F-EUjO2Dv8LqJI5ozTwKHTESe/s1600/Picture+6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jR7ckF_zsOMsJQwm0XE4KfsGtz9c6SNycUU7WZUx7sYon1n6pS9kwHYLqDcwFFoRi4j9uFKmsOJ5eefVgfby0r8GrLi4EuR-ooEaDrCRc99AOUHd0c0F-EUjO2Dv8LqJI5ozTwKHTESe/s400/Picture+6.png" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><br />
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</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b>#6: A man gets something in his eye, then tells his daughter that he loves her very much.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8x2w1lh5-rX4OpN9mlIseBfZvlU53ImvsMrA4P5HE7EKhC4ktpNDYpZufLXys-hI161hGi7OJDhPSXZpQIXRh3fnQJruOF4RQ5mH0187vrjHBabrvDMlEuMspBOrNlmvzl7JUxsvysa8V/s1600/33678_cl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8x2w1lh5-rX4OpN9mlIseBfZvlU53ImvsMrA4P5HE7EKhC4ktpNDYpZufLXys-hI161hGi7OJDhPSXZpQIXRh3fnQJruOF4RQ5mH0187vrjHBabrvDMlEuMspBOrNlmvzl7JUxsvysa8V/s400/33678_cl.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b>#7: He watches her put money into a cookie tin.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZaokJR5Oib1AG2C4gWGLeBMBrNi2MHoVhMOZbfMdT15b69r8OhNbYkCKto5h8Uxdr6_DYHzqqpgS1YFLZYJuZ8IKnvpqe1Qs32gG7sDFFVWKjGM5zFGqWJgf4oNhyXCr0a61QvUqXEkBU/s1600/Picture+7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZaokJR5Oib1AG2C4gWGLeBMBrNi2MHoVhMOZbfMdT15b69r8OhNbYkCKto5h8Uxdr6_DYHzqqpgS1YFLZYJuZ8IKnvpqe1Qs32gG7sDFFVWKjGM5zFGqWJgf4oNhyXCr0a61QvUqXEkBU/s400/Picture+7.png" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><br />
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</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b>#8: He fetches her a pitcher. </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> (This one is so easy-peasy, I shouldn't even include a picture, but I will be kind.)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0qVHX74_w2x5VRJYPxqjvDX9fWMx0j9T9rGqHcvT3R5iAQPk1D1eg67SbgLiyiSZfsGl0CXfjU6jET0VBZuPpnUMglLb1gGQyT_XWvMw9VChO7_RAPjVNpIKASMqeExKZkeff51lxJxpr/s1600/Picture+8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0qVHX74_w2x5VRJYPxqjvDX9fWMx0j9T9rGqHcvT3R5iAQPk1D1eg67SbgLiyiSZfsGl0CXfjU6jET0VBZuPpnUMglLb1gGQyT_XWvMw9VChO7_RAPjVNpIKASMqeExKZkeff51lxJxpr/s400/Picture+8.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i>*She also painted a fascinating </i><a href="http://clothesonfilm.com/art-of-rosemarys-baby/19592/"><i>series</i></a><i> studying Mia Farrow's costumes in Roman Polanski's Rosemary's Baby-- a film I still haven't developed the courage to watch. </i></div><div><br />
</div>Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12533569387066582865noreply@blogger.com0