Plaid, Planes, Phuket

Look at my husband.  Ain't he the cutest?

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.

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!

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).

1: number of nights we'll stay in each hostel en route to Phuket
3: number of ferries we'll be taking between Thai islands
4: the subway line we'll be taking to get to Beijing South train station
12: approximate check-in time at our first hostel in Kuala Lumpur (as in midnight)
24: number of pages of Jason's homemade itinerary/travel guide to Kuala Lumpur and southern Thailand
30: amount of minutes it will take to get from Beijing to Tian Jin via bullet train
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!)


I'm so excited!  Thai iced tea!  Ocean!  Curries galore!  Ocean!  Warm weather!  Cheap coffee!  OCEAN!  Did I mention I love the ocean?

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.

A flood of gorgeous, scenic photos forthcoming!

Chang Ping Adventure!

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. 


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.

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.

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.

When we got into town, we'd arrived a bit earlier than our friend and Chang Ping resident, Amanda.  Fortunately for this 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.

Outside, street vendors sold snacks equally processed, though perhaps slightly less clean.

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.

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.

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.

Goat cheese, apple, and honey salad with bacon.

French onion soup!  Baaaaahhhhh.... look at all that cheeeeeese!

MLK with her bacon and caramelized onion tartlette.

Amanda and Beouf Stroganoff French style

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.

Why?-- 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?

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.

Anyway, in my few years of living here, I have found a few very satisfying answers to my 'why' questions related to Spring Festival (Chun Jie 春节) or Chinese New Year, as it's often referred to back home.  Here are my findings:

Why the fireworks?  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 hazards 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.

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.

Why the red paper around the doors?  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. 

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.

Why the TV specials?  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.

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.


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 xin nian kuai le !

The Year of the Dragon

Happy New Year, everyone!

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.

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 laowai, 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?

In our case, our celebration was eerily quiet-- even for laowai.  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.

Here are a few photos:

 

Coming up... a laowai's perception of Chinese New Year traditions.

Lost in Translation

The 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.

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.

Xindy leans back and rips a loud, long fart.
Grace:  (laughing)  Xindy, did you just eat lunch?
Xindy:  (learning back on the sofa with her arms tucked behind her head)  No.  Why?
Grace:  Well, after you do that, you should say, “Excuse me.”
Xindy:  (brows furrowed, still lounging on my sofa)  I should say what?
Grace:  You should say, “Excuse me.”
Xindy:  (sitting up)  What?  What does that mean?
Grace:  It is kind of like saying, “I’m sorry.”
Xindy:  But why I need to say this word?
Grace:  Because what you did is a little impolite.
Xindy:  What’s meaning this word?  Poligh?
Grace:  Im-po-lite.  It means "不客气的" (bu keqi).

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.*

Our lesson in manners didn't end there, though.

Fifteen minutes later, Xindy is working on a dictation.
Xindy:  What you said before I should say when I… 放屁 (fart / fangpi)?
Grace:  Oh… “Excuse me.”
Xindy:  (smiling as a rancid smell fills the room)  Okay.  Excuse me.



*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).

Who is your daddy...

... and what does he do?

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:

Rumble rumble.  Splish splash.  Whiiiiirrrrr.
Xindy: (startled) What is that noises?
Grace:  It's the washing machine.
Xindy:  Washing for what?
Grace:  洗衣服的 (translation: for washing clothes).  Jason is doing the laundry.
Xindy:  (more startled)  WHAAAAT?  He is washing the clothes!?
Grace:  Yeah... well, he's putting it into the machine.
Xindy:  He knows how to do it?
Grace:  ... Yes.  Doesn't your dad know how to use the washing machine?
Xindy:  No!
Grace:  (laughing)  Really?  So only your mommy does the laundry?
Xindy:  Eat, sleep, play iPad.  That's all my daddy knows.



Classic.

The Work of Someone Greater

When 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.

Because of this...

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.

Channel surfing has its consequences

We interrupt our regular programming to bring you a fantastical Chinese creature who seems to have grown an enlarged scrotum on his forehead.

Brownie points to whomever can come up with the best captions for these photos.

A Humble Return

I'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.

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.

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?

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.

"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."

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.

And yet, he is jealous for me.  

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.

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.

Because it's by His grace and love that I am adequate.

Whoo-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.

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.

When tourists attack...

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.

We took public transportation a LOT.

And we didn't just take pictures of the backs of each others' heads.

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.

Iced fruit tea at Bellagio 

Mango Coconut Milk shaved ice at Bellagio

Lance and his first cup of Beijing yogurt

Beijing Yogurt comes in a tiny clay jug that you can keep for an extra 1 kuai.
Each cup is covered by a little piece of printed wax paper, secured by a rubber band.

Lance and me with some friends having hot pot for dinner.

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!

Lance in his favorite chair at our apartment