It's 9:36 AM

You're in your pajamas sitting at your desk.  Your laptop is open.  Your coffee cup is empty.  You've been awake since 7.

Do you know where your lesson plan is?

NO.  FOR THE LOVE OF PETE.  NO, I DON'T.

Fifteen Minutes or Less

START TIME:  1:29 PM

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?

In any case, here is my super-quick update.

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 other job, 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.

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.


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?

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.

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.

END TIME: 1:47 PM.  Dang!

Annuals

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?

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.

On the afternoon of March 13, 2006...

G:  So I called my mom today to wish her a happy birthday.  She asked me about you.
J:  Mm-hmm...
G:  She asked about what's going on between you and me.
J:  Yeah?
G:  And I didn't know what to tell her.
J:  Well, I've been telling my friends you're my girlfriend for the past few weeks.
G:  ............

Yup, folks.  That's how a DTR happens.

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.

Here's how we celebrated our first year as a married couple:

We hopped onto our lovely e-scooter, Estelle, and made our way to the subway station.

En route to the restaurant...

...we saw dinosaurs in a shopping plaza!  Only in China...

We made it to our dinner spot and ordered up a Mediterranean feast that made us smile pitas.

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.

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 righteous parfait.

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.

Everyone.  Welcome to our home.

Estelle: A Love Story

This post is not about the fabulous British singer who sings about American boys.  It is, however, a simple love story.

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.

We started checking internet classifieds for a second-hand dian dong che (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.

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?).

"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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

Big Plate o' Chicken

Ahh, 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.

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.

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.

Are you drooling yet?

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.

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.

Xinjiang dinner, compliments of my amazing students.

You will need:

For the noodles:
3 1/2 cups flour
1 1/2 cups warm water
2 teaspoons salt-- dissolve salt into water
1 tablespoon vegetable oil

For the Da Pan Ji:
1 whole chicken-- cleaned well outside and inside the cavity, giblets removed, separated and cut into small pieces (keep bone in)
3/4 cup vegetable oil
3-4 tablespoons dark soy sauce
1 liter light beer
1 cup hot water
3 potatoes-- peeled and cut into 3 inch cubes, then tossed with a little salt
2 Anaheim peppers, cut into 3 inch squares
salt to taste

Flavor Bouquet-- place all ingredients into a small bowl
3/4 cup dried red chilis
1 whole star anise
4-6 Bay leaves
2 tablespoons Sichuan peppercorns
4 inch knob of ginger-- peeled and sliced into strips
2 leeks cut into 4 inch pieces, then sliced lengthwise
1 whole bulb of garlic-- peeled, then crushed lightly to release flavor

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.'

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.

AJ kneading the noodle dough

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.

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.

Flavor bouquet!

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).

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.

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.

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.

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.

Wipe the drool from your chin, and savor the product of all your hard labor.

White Privilege: Not Just for Americans

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.

"Hi, you are Korean American, right?" the girl at the teaching agency asked.

"Yes, I am.  But I was born in America and I've lived there my entire life."

"Yes, but it is very difficult to find a school that will take a teacher who does not look like an American."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 just now learning to embrace their diversity as an asset.

'marshawu,' you should seriously start reconsidering the wording on your advertisement.  And I'm not your friend.

Direct Message

Sometimes, 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.

Other times, we get hit right over the head with something so direct and undeniable, it takes your breath away.

Case in point:

from our weekly church bulletin

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!  

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.  

Sure, it's just the title of a sermon.  

But I'd rather not see it that way.  Instead, I am dumbstruck, overwhelmed, and amazed.