The hardest adjustment for me, other than sleep, has been food. I’ve had stomach problems for a decade, which is a significant portion of my life. I’ve been through all different types of pills/meds and one slightly scary procedure. By this point in my life, I’d resolved to live in some amount of pain.
Asia was my cure.
I’m not really sure how or why this worked, but the food in Asia just agreed with me. I think it has to do with the crazy amount of veggies, but I’m no foodie, nor stomach-doc, so I really don’t know.
What I do know, is that for the first time in my adult life I was eating pineapples, drinking orange juice, and loading on the chili sauce like it was my job. Maybe I’m allergic to cheese?? Nah, can’t be.
There were times in Beijing when Kel and I would get tired of cooking, and seek out some western food. I felt really guilty when I’d eat what seemed like a long string of western food. Now that I think about it, I always ate Chinese food for lunch, so I never went more than two days eating entirely western food.
Being home, looking at my stretch of endless meals of hot dogs, lasagna, and meatball subs (all which I find incredibly delicious) my stomach turns in knots. In a typical Chinese meal it is common to have dishes that aren’t all food. Dishes are served with peppercorns, dried chilies, basil leaves, not to mention shells and bones. The meal takes long because you have to pick through it, in addition to balance it in your chopsticks, making smaller bites the norm.
Yesterday I walked down to the “slip” a friendly little shack down on the Mattapoisett Wharf. I got the cheese dog that I’d been craving for eleven and a half months. Two seconds later, bewildered, I was sitting on the rocks by the water with just an empty cardboard sleeve. I was hungry, and now I’m already full? That was a meal? It didn’t seem possible, but my stomach was so full of cheese, bread, and meat that I knew I couldn’t extend this “meal” if I tried.
Biggest Chinese Food Craving: Sichuan Green Beans, which are little spicy treasures buried under peppercorns, chilies, garlic gloves, ginger, and I’m sure many other treasures I was never able to identify.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
Strangest Things about America as a New Returnee
1. Everyone speaks English
2. There is English EVERYWHERE
3. Strangers are friendly and polite (especially in small town MA)
4. The food feels like bricks in your stomach
5. You can add cheese to almost any food
6. You don’t have to wait through Chinese for an English version of announcements
7. So few Asians!/So many blondes!
8. You can look up anything you want on the internet
9. You can find the names and addresses of new restaurants easily
10. Google maps in ENGLISH
11. People you know and love are all around or a phone call away
12. Facebook and Youtube…ANYTIME!
13. More coffee than tea
14. Tea = little bags served in giant mugs instead of pots with little cups
15. Clothes and Shoes in American sizes (I’m no longer a giant with clown feet)
16. If you’re lost you can ask directions to anyone
17. Using phrases like, “I was wondering if you know…” instead of pointing to something and raising/furrowing your eyebrows with bent elbows and palms faced up
18. Western toilets with toilet paper everywhere
19. Bathrooms in every restaurant
20. Hardly any spicy food
2. There is English EVERYWHERE
3. Strangers are friendly and polite (especially in small town MA)
4. The food feels like bricks in your stomach
5. You can add cheese to almost any food
6. You don’t have to wait through Chinese for an English version of announcements
7. So few Asians!/So many blondes!
8. You can look up anything you want on the internet
9. You can find the names and addresses of new restaurants easily
10. Google maps in ENGLISH
11. People you know and love are all around or a phone call away
12. Facebook and Youtube…ANYTIME!
13. More coffee than tea
14. Tea = little bags served in giant mugs instead of pots with little cups
15. Clothes and Shoes in American sizes (I’m no longer a giant with clown feet)
16. If you’re lost you can ask directions to anyone
17. Using phrases like, “I was wondering if you know…” instead of pointing to something and raising/furrowing your eyebrows with bent elbows and palms faced up
18. Western toilets with toilet paper everywhere
19. Bathrooms in every restaurant
20. Hardly any spicy food
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Back in America
I left Beijing at 6 pm on Friday, July 22, and I arrived back in Toronto at 6:40 pm the same day. Time differences can really shake you up.
As soon as I got off the plane people have been asking me how it is being home, like I have an answer. Maybe I’m supposed to, but it was all so confusing. The jetlag didn’t help. There’s nothing like being the exact opposite, 12-hours of night/day for a year to mess up your sleep schedule. I’ve been home for almost a week now, and I’m still getting up at 6 am. I haven’t slept for more than 5 hours at a time.
Coming home, especially to my parents’ house in Mattapoisett, is an especially strange way to re-enter the country. In “the house that time forgot”, everything was at firs eerily the same, as if I’d never left. My face wash and toothbrush sat waiting for me on the sink, as if I’d used them this morning instead of last August.
It felt comforting to hug my parents and let them drive me home after a year of trying to figure out taxi pictures armed with pre-printed maps and addresses in Chinese. At the same time, I know that I am different, and out of practice responding politely to their smothering care.
In our driveway, my father gave me point-by-point instructions as I lifted one of my suitcases from the back seat. Sure, I’d packed and lugged three giant suitcases from the hostel in Beijing to the airport, and through customs in Canada, but I do need help getting just one out of a car.
Of course under and above it all I am lucky to have them, and happy to be back. I find myself missing China, though. My last month there, traveling and spending time in Beijing without work, was so relaxing and fulfilling. I finally found out enough places to get around to, and people I genuinely enjoyed going there with. I had a solid rock climbing, Brazillian dancing, swimming, and biking regimen that made it actually fun to do things sober. It’s like my life just figured out how to get good there, and then it was over.
I hope to go abroad again, and when I do, to stay for two years. One just isn’t enough to make a life somewhere else. Or in my case, not enough time to live it.
As soon as I got off the plane people have been asking me how it is being home, like I have an answer. Maybe I’m supposed to, but it was all so confusing. The jetlag didn’t help. There’s nothing like being the exact opposite, 12-hours of night/day for a year to mess up your sleep schedule. I’ve been home for almost a week now, and I’m still getting up at 6 am. I haven’t slept for more than 5 hours at a time.
Coming home, especially to my parents’ house in Mattapoisett, is an especially strange way to re-enter the country. In “the house that time forgot”, everything was at firs eerily the same, as if I’d never left. My face wash and toothbrush sat waiting for me on the sink, as if I’d used them this morning instead of last August.
It felt comforting to hug my parents and let them drive me home after a year of trying to figure out taxi pictures armed with pre-printed maps and addresses in Chinese. At the same time, I know that I am different, and out of practice responding politely to their smothering care.
In our driveway, my father gave me point-by-point instructions as I lifted one of my suitcases from the back seat. Sure, I’d packed and lugged three giant suitcases from the hostel in Beijing to the airport, and through customs in Canada, but I do need help getting just one out of a car.
Of course under and above it all I am lucky to have them, and happy to be back. I find myself missing China, though. My last month there, traveling and spending time in Beijing without work, was so relaxing and fulfilling. I finally found out enough places to get around to, and people I genuinely enjoyed going there with. I had a solid rock climbing, Brazillian dancing, swimming, and biking regimen that made it actually fun to do things sober. It’s like my life just figured out how to get good there, and then it was over.
I hope to go abroad again, and when I do, to stay for two years. One just isn’t enough to make a life somewhere else. Or in my case, not enough time to live it.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Right Question Wrong Time
I was having lunch at a mini-hot pot place, where the customers sit at the counter in front of their own individual pot. You can order any meat or vegetable that you’d like to put in, but unlike dinner Hot Pot, you have your own pot and cook it at your own pace.
L suggested that we get one of the set meals, which come with one type of meat, and a giant plate of veggies, tofu, and other sides. I chose the lamb and L chose the shrimp, which was the cheapest of the meats. (Shrimp, like crawfish, are served with the heads and legs still intact.)
I mixed the seed-paste that I mistakenly referred to as peanut sauce (for its remarkable similarity) to the amusement of L, with the cilantro in the bowl. Then I put a few ladels of the sweet and sour hot pot broth to make a soup. Then I selected spinach, cabbage, carrots, etc. and lamb at different times, waiting and then adding them to my bowl.
The tofu came in light and dark. I boiled some white tofu, ate it, and then boiled some dark. I ate half of the dark tofu, and then asked, “What is this?”
With my chopsticks hovering on the way to my mouth, L told me, “Pig’s blood.”
L suggested that we get one of the set meals, which come with one type of meat, and a giant plate of veggies, tofu, and other sides. I chose the lamb and L chose the shrimp, which was the cheapest of the meats. (Shrimp, like crawfish, are served with the heads and legs still intact.)
I mixed the seed-paste that I mistakenly referred to as peanut sauce (for its remarkable similarity) to the amusement of L, with the cilantro in the bowl. Then I put a few ladels of the sweet and sour hot pot broth to make a soup. Then I selected spinach, cabbage, carrots, etc. and lamb at different times, waiting and then adding them to my bowl.
The tofu came in light and dark. I boiled some white tofu, ate it, and then boiled some dark. I ate half of the dark tofu, and then asked, “What is this?”
With my chopsticks hovering on the way to my mouth, L told me, “Pig’s blood.”
Muffin Movie
Of course, the movie had Chinese subtitles instead of English. Luckily, I was able to follow most of what went on from L’s helpful history over tea, and her whisperings in the theater. Also, by now I’m more than used to getting by on 90% facial expression and guessing what would make sense.
Even for me, it was hard not to idolize Muffin on the big screen. They choose a strong, handsome, famous actor who portrayed Muffin as a gallant young man with strong ideas and the convictions to make his dreams happen. When Muffin spoke, the people around him either chanted his words or burst into song.
The movie went into detail about his first marriage, romanticizing the love and connection with long pauses, watching fireworks, and soft background music. (In real life, this wife was killed for her connection to Muffin, and he went on to marry three more times.)
L told me that every major part in the movie was played by a very famous actor, all of whom worked for free to show their devotion to the C party. I can’t imagine a way in which American Nationalism could cause an all-star cast to work for free.
Looking around, I also had a hard time imagining getting crowds and crowds of Americans to see a movie made about our founding of Democracy, even with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie staring as whoever’s responsible and his wife.
As L studied English, she was forced to memorize a tremendous amount of American History. She knows more about the Mayflower and Boston Tea party than I do, and I’m from Cape Cod. She told me, “Ugg, why did my teacher make me learn all these things! They are useless! No one, not even Americans, want to talk about these things.” I told her, not only do we not want to talk about it, most of us don’t even know it anymore if we ever did.
How different might Nationalism be in our country if history made it onto the big screen and was part of people’s Saturday plans?
Even for me, it was hard not to idolize Muffin on the big screen. They choose a strong, handsome, famous actor who portrayed Muffin as a gallant young man with strong ideas and the convictions to make his dreams happen. When Muffin spoke, the people around him either chanted his words or burst into song.
The movie went into detail about his first marriage, romanticizing the love and connection with long pauses, watching fireworks, and soft background music. (In real life, this wife was killed for her connection to Muffin, and he went on to marry three more times.)
L told me that every major part in the movie was played by a very famous actor, all of whom worked for free to show their devotion to the C party. I can’t imagine a way in which American Nationalism could cause an all-star cast to work for free.
Looking around, I also had a hard time imagining getting crowds and crowds of Americans to see a movie made about our founding of Democracy, even with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie staring as whoever’s responsible and his wife.
As L studied English, she was forced to memorize a tremendous amount of American History. She knows more about the Mayflower and Boston Tea party than I do, and I’m from Cape Cod. She told me, “Ugg, why did my teacher make me learn all these things! They are useless! No one, not even Americans, want to talk about these things.” I told her, not only do we not want to talk about it, most of us don’t even know it anymore if we ever did.
How different might Nationalism be in our country if history made it onto the big screen and was part of people’s Saturday plans?
Saturday, July 2, 2011
The Rise of the C P
So as not to incriminate myself further than need be to the authorities, I will refer to the ruler ending in “ao” instead with the word Muffin.
I have been having lunch with my now former assistant, L, which has really helped me to see (and eat) more like the non-expats do in Beijing. She suggested that we go for a movie, and when we looked at the list I noticed that many of the theaters were playing, “The Rise of the Communist Party.”
This, she told me, was the number one movie in China, specially released on July 1st, the 90th anniversary of the communist party. L’s husband is a party member, as is her best and only friend in Beijing, but she is not because she “doesn’t like to write reports.” Apparently being a member involves many meetings and report writing of how you are and what you’re thinking/doing. Her husband and friend, who work with the government, have no choice but to be party members.
As the only movie in English playing was “Kung Fu Panda II”, I readily agreed/insisted that we see The Rise of the C.P. L made sure there were English subtitles, and we bought our tickets.
Before going in, we got some tea and I asked her what I should know before seeing the movie. She explained to be how in the beginning of the 20th century, China was “like a cake” and everyone wanted a piece, to divide it up for their own country. She explained that this movie was about the people deciding to stop following the last emperor, who was a small child at the time, but without knowing which country’s method of government to follow. The movie, she told me, follows Muffin from just a teenage nobody to his founding of the C party.
Sometime later in this same conversation, Hitler came up, and I dared to point out how the German people had taken down all of his statues, etc., but Muffin can be seen everywhere from the Forbidden City to every bill of their money to the #1 movie in China. She looked right at me and said, “Why would you compare these two? There is nothing the same about them.” I didn’t want to press, but ended saying something like, “Well, Muffin did many not nice things.” She answered that you must do not nice things while in war, in order to win.
I didn’t want to prod her, least of all about the not nice things having been done to her own people by Muffin. I found it most interesting, however, that she said every year on holidays the only thing on TV is historical documentaries replaying the terror that the Japanese caused, and the Chinese lives that they wasted, “So we don’t forget.”
I have been having lunch with my now former assistant, L, which has really helped me to see (and eat) more like the non-expats do in Beijing. She suggested that we go for a movie, and when we looked at the list I noticed that many of the theaters were playing, “The Rise of the Communist Party.”
This, she told me, was the number one movie in China, specially released on July 1st, the 90th anniversary of the communist party. L’s husband is a party member, as is her best and only friend in Beijing, but she is not because she “doesn’t like to write reports.” Apparently being a member involves many meetings and report writing of how you are and what you’re thinking/doing. Her husband and friend, who work with the government, have no choice but to be party members.
As the only movie in English playing was “Kung Fu Panda II”, I readily agreed/insisted that we see The Rise of the C.P. L made sure there were English subtitles, and we bought our tickets.
Before going in, we got some tea and I asked her what I should know before seeing the movie. She explained to be how in the beginning of the 20th century, China was “like a cake” and everyone wanted a piece, to divide it up for their own country. She explained that this movie was about the people deciding to stop following the last emperor, who was a small child at the time, but without knowing which country’s method of government to follow. The movie, she told me, follows Muffin from just a teenage nobody to his founding of the C party.
Sometime later in this same conversation, Hitler came up, and I dared to point out how the German people had taken down all of his statues, etc., but Muffin can be seen everywhere from the Forbidden City to every bill of their money to the #1 movie in China. She looked right at me and said, “Why would you compare these two? There is nothing the same about them.” I didn’t want to press, but ended saying something like, “Well, Muffin did many not nice things.” She answered that you must do not nice things while in war, in order to win.
I didn’t want to prod her, least of all about the not nice things having been done to her own people by Muffin. I found it most interesting, however, that she said every year on holidays the only thing on TV is historical documentaries replaying the terror that the Japanese caused, and the Chinese lives that they wasted, “So we don’t forget.”
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