Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Hot Springs, Take Two

Waking up on Thanksgiving also felt strange. I didn’t realize what a creature of habit I actually am. It was my first Thanksgiving without family. In the morning I was feeling a thrown off, so Kelly and I watched Thanksgiving episodes of FRIENDS exclusively, and made hand turkeys and a construction paper American-style traditional feast.

Then we went with some friends to a real, outdoor Hot Springs. It took about an hour and a half, subway/taxi, and we were there. Our 30 min. cab after the subway cost us Y60, or $9, split 3 ways. Like I said, I’m a baller here.

The outside looked similar, and for a moment I was worried I had actually made the same mistake twice. Luckily, I soon saw a sign advertising the “Outdoor hot springs” and relaxed. The place was all that I’d hoped for and more. There were stone-lined paths that led to many different areas with hot pools and hot tubs. One side was lined with different saunas.

My favorite was the Jade sauna, which was lined inside with beautiful gemstones and had swanky red mood lighting. They also had those wooden, basket-looking pillows that I’ve previously seen only in museums. I’ll say, what they lack in fluffiness, they make up for in support. We also found a Turkey Sauna, which had a decorative statue of what must have been a turkey but looked more like a pterodactyl on top of a ginormous blue egg. That was the closest I got to Thanksgiving décor.

It was incredibly cold outside. On the way there, I cursed myself for wearing only a pea coat, gloves, and boots. How dare I leave the house without my hat and scarf?? This made it even more strange to be outside in my bathing suit, under a thin terry-cloth robe. The robes they gave us were orange, which effectively made us look like monks on holiday. They did not effectively keep out the cold, as they because wet and frozen after their first few wears.

Luckily, that didn’t matter for long. The water was so warm that I quickly found myself standing up in the calf-deep water, with most of my body enjoying the cold. We spent some time in the “medicated” hot tubs, and then more time in a larger pool, surrounded by stones and willow trees, as we drank pi geo (who remembers what that is?)

Then we decided to be adventurous and spring the extra Y88 to try out the mud bath. First we were instructed, via mime, to spread the jars of condensed mud onto our faces. This was stage one of the hilarity. Stage two was easing into the giant hot-tub-like pool of watery mud. The trick was, while the water was cool, the bottom had to have been some kind of electric burner. It actually burned if you kept your body touching it for more than one second. We were struck with the challenge of lowering ourselves into this pit of watery mud, without touching the bottom for too long.

Ultimately, we realized that we couldn’t and had to be burned. Once I lay down in the mud, my head perfectly supported by the floatie they wrapped around my neck, I honestly didn’t care that my foot was throbbing slightly. This was not the most convincing evidence for everyone, so for a while it was just me and Eric in the pit. Eventually, though, everyone braved the burner and made it into the mud.

I had a really relaxing time in the watery mud, spreading it around and, as Kelly put it, seeing what our skin would look like if we were black. Roxanne, our Jamaican friend especially appreciated our discovery.

The post-mud shower wasn’t near vigorous to get all of the mud off. I’m not convinced that I won’t find some for the next few showers. Even so, it was a worthwhile adventure.

After that we sat in over-sized arm chairs and had 45 minute foot massages, included in our Y198/$30 package. Sometimes, I just love China. After a few more hot tubs and a quick jump in the giant, un-heated lane pool, just for fun, it was time to go.

Then went home and stuffed ourselves on sushi.

Writing it now it sounds silly that I felt so out of place. It’s not every year (or any year before) that I get to have such treats on Thanksgiving. Really though, I missed you all. I’ve also decided that I need to do more cultural familiar traditions for myself so that another holiday doesn’t just pass me by like this one. (Aka I’ve already started listening to Christmas music, and am about to make a multitude of snowflakes, daily.)

Thanksgiving, is That You?

It’s my first holiday away from home, and it’s amazing how much it just didn’t feel like Thanksgiving. Christmas smacks you in the face from Black Friday on, but Thanksgiving I’d always thought of as a subtler holiday. It creeps up and is celebrated by watching the parade with your family and smelling Turkey in the oven. I never really thought about the little cues that my surroundings gave leading up to Thanksgiving that made it feel like a holiday, until they weren’t there. I missed little moments like talking to people who also celebrated the day, asking where everyone was going and how they were traveling.

Instead my T.A. told me the whole history, from the religious persecution of the Pilgrims to the weather conditions and failed crops leading up to the meal. I’d totally forgotten about that part of Thanksgiving. The cutest part was when one of my kids had never heard of the holiday before and had no idea why we weren’t coming to school at the end of the week. I started to explain that it’s mostly about getting together and eating certain foods with your family. One boy raised his hand and said, “Rebecca, I think I understand why we celebrate it here. In China we have a lot to give thanks for too, so we can also celebrate Thanksgiving.” In my whining about missing the delicious meal, I’d totally forgotten about the giving thanks part! That is why I work with children.

I was grateful to have Thursday and Friday off, although it is followed by a six day work week (thanks, China). My staff even sponsored a last-minute Thanksgiving dinner at a restaurant in the city called NOLA. We were treated to squash soup, turkey, mashed potatoes (pretty accurately made), and broccoli casserole. I think that last dish was supposed to be like green bean casserole, but it didn’t quite pan out. It was such a tease, especially since I’d been really craving that gooey, salty, crunchily delicious dish.

On the menu it read that our dessert was a sampling of American apple pie a la mode, pumpkin pie, and pecan pie. All meal I waited to sink my fork into a warmed pecan pie. To my surprise (of course), it came as one pie. It was a strange mixture of what was supposed to be all three types under “ice cream” made with Chinese powder milk. Just like mom used to make….

It was a fun night after all, though, and the free wine and beer didn’t hurt. It was nice to gather together for a meal that was at least more like Thanksgiving than the vegetable hot pot I had for lunch. The weirdest part was that I had to go to work the next day, and it was only Wednesday.

Biggest Reminder that I was in China: Watching the Chinese teachers try to eat our heavy American feast, and only succeeding by skipping the gravy and dousing everything in Chili sauce.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Hot Springs, Beijing Style

I successfully had my first round of Parent Teacher Conferences! Woo hoo! On Thursday, I taught half a day while the parents were allowed to watch me teach. Then, starting at 12:30, I had back to back conferences every 20 min. It was intense, but I’m glad that I did it. It was nice to see the parents face-to-face, and feel like we’re both meeting in the middle, where we care about the kids and just want the best for them.

To thank us for all of our hard work, my school arranged for the Primary Division to be pampered at the Hot Springs just north of Beijing. Our director told us about the natural hot springs, and the private room massages we would be receiving. I was excited to have some time to reconnect with nature. I brought my book and my journal, and was ready to soak into the earth.

Of course, when we showed up, there was nothing natural about the hot springs. It was, in fact, the Hot Springs indoor water park. We did get massages, but all of us together in a crowded room blaring Chinese TV. (That is not to say, however, that I didn’t appreciate my free 45 min. massage. I paid Y98 /$12 for an extra foot massage, and it was hands down the best I’ve ever had.)

The place was insanely crowded with Chinese tourists. Every inch of the hot tubs was taken by Chinese families, couples, babies, teenagers, just soaking up every spout of water and free section against the edge of the pool. We were able to get into the “VIP” section, which had “hot tubs”. By that I mean, they had pools of warm water that quickly became cold. Every once in a while the attendants would pour more hot water to reheat them. We were told they were “medicinal” hot tubs, which was to account for the apparent food coloring. I especially liked the green one, because not only did I feel like I was swimming in Jell-O, but I also got to feel like a Ninja turtle.

By the end, I just gave in to the whole spirit of the water park, with its Mohegan-sun-esque fake trees, cement-stone walkways, and plastic greenery. Kel, our friend Erica, and I even went for the water ride. It was essentially a “lazy river”, but with rapids instead of waves. We all climbed into a giant water raft. It’s much trickier than it sounds, as every time we started down the stairs, a giant wave of people, water, and other rafts crashed it around. The attendant holding it for us kept falling under water and having to chase it down the stream.

Once inside, we had no paddles. We were at the mercy of the waves. It was one of those experiences that you know could only have in another country, outside of the U.S. and its propensity for lawsuits. Quickly, I was able to feel safe as long as I kept my elbows and skull inside and leaned away from the walls to the center of the raft. The real fright of the ride was in the water. We were in a raft, but many people opted to be in single floating tubes. By people, I mean children. The worst was when I saw a wave coming around the corner, and would see a small child just in front of the boat. I knew for certain, with no escape, that we would be soon crushing that child. It certainly was a break from the responsibility of work in the Primary division.

We managed to escape without dying, or suffocating anyone. The children never minded, and the adults who were supposedly watching (most) of them didn’t even flinch as they attempted to resurface through our raft. Just like in Mongolia at the top of the sand boarding mountain, I realized, I’m American-overprotective.
All in all, it was a great day. It wasn’t quite the connection to nature that I’d been craving, but it did feel good to leave the city and think about something that wasn’t reports!

Scandalous Americans


Kelly and I are the only teachers who did not bring bathing suits to China. I’d heard about the modesty of their bathing suits (without really looking into it), and figured my bikini had no place. I was also so focused on preparing for the dead of winter, vacuum sealing my thickest jackets and gloves, that the idea of sneaking in that tiny bit of fabric seemed like nonsense.

Then we learned about the Hot Springs treat from our administration. We set out to the mall-like shopping center near us and managed to find one stall that sold bathing suits.

At first sight I thought it was just another wall of dresses. It wasn’t until I leaned close and touched the fabric that I was sure, much like rubbing plant to see if it’s fake. For one thing, they are clearly made to accentuate thin Asian bodies. All of the tops are seriously padded, and complete with underwire. Most of the bottoms have extra frills on the sides, perfect for adding the illusion of hips. Unfortunately for us Americans, we did not need extra amenities. Not to mention that Kelly and I are giants in Asia. It’s a miracle if I can find a shoe in my size, never mind a bathing suit. I could barely squeeze into a large, and poor Kelly had to settle for the only extra- large that they had in the store, regardless of the design.

The styles struck me the most. There were so many varieties! None of them were the typical, underwear-shaped bikinis I’m accustomed to seeing lined up on store walls. In fact I have not found any bottoms that are any skimpier than shorts or skirts. The one that I settled on came with black shorts that look like 70’s roller derby bottoms, or maybe more like boys speedos, given the texture. Most of them look like outfits, just different versions of dresses or tops with shorts.

Even two-pieces like the one I found, black polka-dotted top (with unavoidable stuffed, underwire style) and solid black shorts, came with a “tank top” to go over it. The strappy tank top is also black polka-dotted, and has frills at the bottom. I do like how much variety you can have in a bathing suit. I’m used to choosing basically by the print, and maybe an extra tie. Here, they really have different looks and outfits.

What I really can’t imagine is a Chinese person seeing a wall of bathing suits in America for the first time, suit after suit of colorful underwear, and thinking, “Where’s the rest?”

Monday, November 15, 2010

Before 7 and After 4

Leave your apartment, take the elevator down and try to find your bike in the mass of overlapping motor vehicles at the front of the complex. Squeeze your way through the narrow iron gate they recently put up, and head down the street.

(The “street” that I live on is a mix between a dirt road and an ally. The ground is part dirt and part slabs of uneven concrete. At some points, the concrete just has tire-tracks dug out, 6 inches deep. I call it an obstacle course. I try to stay on one side, although there’s definitely nothing like a bike-lane on this narrow street. It’s narrow enough to be a one-way, but like most roads in China, it functions as both. Bikes and cars in both direction, just looking out and taking turns. I wait for a good time to go in between the bumps and try not to hit the vegetable and other venders on the sides. )

Check for cars. Duck under the willow tree while slowing to go over the speed bump. Go around the pot holes. Go over the speed bump but don’t hit the vegetable cart. Look again for cars and bikes. Cross the street and swerve in between parked cars to get to the sidewalk.

(At this new shortcut that I found, I ride where people walk out front of my old apartment. I felt kind of guilty being one of those bikes in a pedestrian space- until I had to swerve for cars who’d forced their way up there too. )

Go past the guard and cross the bike lane and two lanes of traffic to the opposite bike lane. Ride until the end of the street. Do not let the bus merge onto you. When it tries and you let it pass you, check for cars again and then pass the bus by going all the way into the other 2 lanes of traffic, with the other bikers. At the end of the street, take a right into oncoming bikers and cars. Try to pass these four lanes of traffic to take the tiny dirt path just ahead and to the right. Do not hit the venders, their carts, their vegetables, or the people buying them and blocking the entrance to the tiny dirt path.

Follow the demolition dirt and un-evenly tiled path through the fields of demolished buildings, over and up the tile-lined trenches and into the sand pit. Do not touch the power line lying on the ground. Try to find one path in the sand pit that is less deep than the others. Ride quickly and push hard on your petals to make it to the other side. (This step is especially important if it has rained in the past week.)

Take a right onto another dirt road. Take a left after the burning trash. (I don’t know why they do this, but I actually enjoy that it smells more like campfire than flaming garbage.)

Make it to the tunnel. Get off your bike and walk it down the 3 levels of ramps while you take the 50 steps down. Don’t be startled by motorists who ride their bikes down the whole way, or those who are coming towards you on their bikes. At the bottom, or near the bottom if you feel like getting on your bike on the ramp, ride through the unlit tunnel 80 flt. to the other ramp. Get off your bike and walk it the 40 steps up 2 levels of ramp to the sunlight.

Get on your bike and cross two bike lanes and four lanes of car traffic to get into Tsinghua Campus. Merge with cars and other bikes, around the guard booth, and squeeze into the divider for the bike lane at the entrance. Once on campus, every block be sure to make it through the 3 inch spaces cut out of the speed bumps but don’t let your handle bars hit the poles set up to stop cars. At the two major intersections, hoards of bikers will come from the opposite direction, right across your path. Bike with them, and then weave through them. Do not stop and wait, because there will be no pause for you to get through. Continue to weave your way through the campus, and eventually weave through the cones and into oncoming traffic. Stay on the wrong side so that you can take a left onto the street.

Choose any of the four driveways to turn into. Be careful for cars leaving the driveways, and children on their way to school. Take a right into the campus, amid a crowd of Tsinghua High school students. Get off your bike and say “Ni Hao” to the guard. Walk your bike just past the green line, and then get back on.

Ride down the ramp and past the field to the bike racks near the primary building. Find a spot that’s open, lock your back tire to your bike, and you’ve made it!
As you can imagine, riding to and from school today, after being so sick this weekend, was a challenge. I swear I only made it through delirium-inspired genius, by which I thought of “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming” on my way home. Thanks Ellen!

Sunday, November 14, 2010

I Woke Up Sick

Well, in true Bekki fashion, I thought I was hung over. I never think I’m sick. I woke up with Swine Flu last year and still got on the subway from Queens to get to work before telling my head teacher, “I don’t feel so good.” After feeling my head and stomach ache, I cursed myself for losing my tolerance in Beijing, considering I’d only had two martinis (and some red wine.)

In the morning I was well enough to play a round of rummy while watching FRIENDS. (Some things never change, even overseas) I felt too full to eat.
Slowly, I began to lose my stamina. It was Saturday, the first day I had to NOT write reports in the month of November. I’d planned to go to the Lama Temple, and give myself a much-needed energy boost. It was clear by noon that I wasn’t going anywhere.

Still not admitting that I was sick, I consented to a nap at 2. I woke up at 4:30. At that point, I had to admit that I might be sick. (Especially considering that the last nap I took was when I had Swine Flu.) I should have known right away, because my kids have all been sick. I had at least 4 kids out every day of the week. I’m just lucky that I made it until Saturday.

After my 4 pm nap I was in trouble. I had a lot of hours left in the day, and absolutely no energy. Of course, I refused to go to bed. It was Saturday! My day! My first day after so many days writing reports day and night until I fell asleep, and I refused to be sick.

Kelly tried to feed me some soup. It was so hard to get every sip down, because I felt so full. I kept blaming my dinner from the previous night, even 24 hours later. I made Kelly put on a movie, the Corpse Bride, and tried my best to watch it. I felt burning hot. We have no thermometer, but I’m sure that I had the fever that my kids had.

The whole night, I couldn’t keep my eyes open for more than a few moments, every 30 min. or so. It was a strange fight with myself.

By 10 at night, I consented to be put to bed. Luckily, Sunday morning I felt somewhat more alive. I was able to lift my head and even have a whole conversation! I finished the last drafts of my reports, and tried to mentally prepare myself for the week ahead (complete with the dreaded Parent Teacher Conferences, dun dun dun).

Scariest part of being sick: I realized it’d be really difficult to be sick enough to go to a hospital. I’d have to look one up in a guide or copy it down from the internet, and try to get a cab driver who can figure out how to get me there. Then there’d just be the small problem of communicating with the doctors….

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Argana

Lucky for us, the Argana was celebrating its anniversary. Because of this we were seated in the only table on the bottom floor, next to a buffet and the bar. We discovered it was the anniversary when the owner walked in and announced it, after proclaiming, “I’m so drunk. I’ve been drinking since 10 a.m.” He was a charming middle-age Moroccan man, who took a fondness to our table, especially me. His interest in me was so apparent that Kelly and Alison both gave their names as “Rebecca”, and we became Rebecca cubed for the night.

The food was amazing. Thick stews and light appetizers. We had a dish that was just mushrooms with lemon sauce, and it was so well-prepared that this was enough. Ok, I know nothing about food, as I’m sure is apparent, but it was a nice change for me. (One good about China is that, being baller here, we can afford lavish meals at fancy restaurants, as soon as we can get ourselves there…)

The owner brought us extra dishes and continually filled up our wine glasses beyond the bottle we had ordered. He talked to us about opening the restaurant, keeping his Grandfather’s tradition, and about Morocco. At the end of the meal, he actually brought in a magician, instructing him, “Do tricks for Rebecca!” I’ve never had magic tricks done just for me, so I really enjoyed the unexpected surprise. I picked a card and then he put it back in the deck. Then gave me another card that was not my card and I put it under my hand on the table. He did all kids of moving around and then eventually put the deck on top of my hand, and when I looked at the card of the table, it was my card!

For the next trick, he asked me to sign a card with a permanent marker. Then he shuffled the deck so that some of the cards were face up, and others were face down. Somehow, when he hit it though, they were all face down, except for my signed card, which was face up! (I’m sure it is much lamer just to hear about this without seeing it, but part of the madness for me was thinking, this is my Sunday night dinner? Where am I?)

When I left, I asked my owner friend, “Can I have a business card?”
“You can have my life” he replied.

My Kingdom for a HopStop…

Our friends Eric and Allison invited us to dinner at a Morrocan restaunt closer to the center of Beijing. I remember how this would work in New York. They’d text me the address, or the name, and I could look it up. If I was stuck, I could hopstop it, which would show me exactly how to get there, down to the blocks I’d have to walk after the subway. This is a luxury that I don’t have in Beijing.

Eric did send me the link for the restaurant. I was able to find the address, but when I tried to put it in google maps, the map is in Chinese (even under googlechrome, which translates most webpages.) It also couldn’t find the exact restaurant at first. I think happens because the pinyin (alphabetic spelling for the Chinese characters) is very specific, and because Beijing is gigantic, or because the internet likes to see me frustrated. After 10 minutes of playing around with the street name, or the area, I was able to find the exact restaurant with one little flag. Success!

Nope, just kidding. I had no idea how to get myself to that area. Everything is in Chinese, so I could only guess at what might have been a subway stop near there, and which one that would be. After another insanely long time I was able to match the Chinese characters and find out which two subway stops it was between, but the street names were all also in Chinese, and it was at least 10 blocks away from the closest stop. (Beijing blocks, by the way, are about 2 U.E.S. avenues long, so you really don’t want to take a wrong turn.)

Eventually, we decided to take a taxi. Easy! (In New York, that is.) In China, that involves trying to communicate with the driver, who does not speak any English, and does not know where everything is, because Beijing is such a large city. Kelly was able to look at the Google map and make a mark on the map that we have of the location, and we showed it to the driver. He took us, and then dropped us of somewhere near where we were supposed to me. It took us 10 minutes, under the light from a store’s sign, to figure out which direction was north, and to make a guess about which way we should walk.

Needless to say, when we finally saw the sign, it was a good moment. We were lucky that this is a Moroccan restaurant, so the sign was in English. If we were looking for a Chinese place, we’d have to meticulously match the characters!

From my Head Down to my Legs

Breakfast: 2 eggs, over easy.

Lunch: Trying to find a new restaurant is a tricky thing around here. Kelly and I decided to walk in a different direction to find something new. We made the mistake of sitting down at a Japanese place before looking at the menu. It was a fancy-looking restaurant, which had a picture menu (all good things.) When we looked closer, it seemed that it was a kind of Japanese hot pot, where you can select different vegetables to be cooked in the broth that will become soup. Unfortunately, each of the broths that we could choose from had a whole fish sliced inside. Now, I’ve become a huge fan of Chinese-style fish, head and fins and all, but for some reason that day, I wasn’t into it sticking up out of my soup. We pulled a classic Westerner move and split.

We walked for a while and ended up at a complex that looked like a food court of fast food joints. We were ready to just turn around when we looked closer at one of the restaurants and decided it was worth trying (mostly because the décor was vibrant orange, and Kelly will eat anything in that environment.) Our waitress actually spoke some English, which felt like a miracle. Because of this surprise, we were able to answer questions like, “Do you want it hot or cold?” and to ask, “What is on this vegetable?” She sold us on a dish of hard boiled eggs, filled with meat, and some Chinese broccoli. They bring the dish out to the table, and it is steamed right there.

Note: picking up a hollowed-out hard-boiled egg with plastic chopsticks is no easy task, especially when it has been filled with sauce and pork that will bulge from the top on the way to your mouth.

On the way home we stopped at a pastry and got some treats. I hadn’t thought about it, but I had picked out egg custards, a sweet cup of eggy deliciousness. Kelly almost lost her lunch.

Updates

I realize that it’s the middle of November and I haven’t updated since Halloween. My life for the past two weeks has been writing reports. Last Saturday I spent the whole day in this restaurant called lai Weis, “Your home away from home.” It’s my new favorite Western spot. I ate breakfast and lunch there, in between writing reports, and then I went home and kept writing. The reports are about 6 pages for each kid, complete with a paragraph for each subject, including separate sections for the child as a student and as a community member. With the social, let’ say “challenges” that my kids have, I often feel like a social worker and not a teacher. Trying to explain what I’ve seen and what they’re working on in a way that can be received by their Chinese parents has been the challenge of the past two weeks. Every day after school I’ve worked on reports until bed. That’s really why I haven’t updated, to spare you all from the tediousness that has been my life in November.

There were some interesting nights out, which I'm posting after this.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Novemeber

Writing
Reports
One
Paragraph
Per
Subject
Per
Kid
Takes
A
Really
Really
Long
Time
.