Category: Uncategorized

Three Years – 三年

On By JordanIn Uncategorized, Writing1 Comment

There’s not going to be much Science here today. No data or charts or math at all. Though that’s all a part of what’s keeping me up at night lately, I don’t have any way to verify numbers. Nothing makes sense here to me. Today, I just need a space to put these thoughts down and let them be somewhere else besides in my head. I hope it works. At least a while.

Since the end of 2019 the world has been in a state of crisis-control with more emphasis on the crisis than on the control. Governments and people alike have made this a political talking piece to hype up blame and sometimes brotherhood; the former hyped so much more than the later. Waves and variants have kept this nightmare haunting every nation on our planet for three years.

From the beginning days – days when stores could not keep any food, soap, or paper in stock and city streets looked like scenes in an apocalypse flick – reliable information has been a precious and rare commodity. And for inconceivably stupid reasons, it’s also been harder to come by than toilet paper or hand-sanitizer. Infection numbers, deathrates, whodoneit claims about where the virus originated, vaccine efficacy data – it’s all been like trying to decipher Nostradamus’ verses while listening to your friend explain his half-baked screenplay idea and a tornado rips a part your house. At the same time.

Many lock-downs, stretches of online school, half a dozen Health Apps, and dozens upon dozens of throat swab tests later and information is still the biggest stressor. The overflow of information and misinformation, that is.

Now that China has completely abandoned its zero-COVID policies, a whole new storm has hit: the social media symptoms sharing videos. Can’t turn on your phone or open WeChat without getting a look at someone’s bloated, splotchy, stuffy, snotty, tear-stained, feverish face crying into a camera about the way they feel during or right after having COVID. People need to feel a sense of community, to feel that they are connected to others. I get that. And I don’t blame them for turning the camera on themselves in their time of suffering and discomfort. I’m just not a fan. Then there’s the videos about the deaths; from famous people to well-known college professors and the common everyman, these videos are just increasing. At the same time, there are Chinese and foreign men and women dressed in medical scrubs claiming to be doctors, spreading advice and information on how to deal with COVID symptoms. A lot of these people seem to have the best of intentions, but some of them say nothing more than rest a lot, drink a lot of water, and don’t take showers for a while or exercise after contracting COVID. The first two are fairly straight-forward. The last two less so. Which leads me to another type of video and news: the causes-of-death information. There have been a lot of stories about young people or relatively healthy people catching COVID, getting through the worst of it, and then showering, only to die either during or right after the shower. Or they feel great, go workout, and then they die. In this madness are stories about people catching COVID multiple times, each time being worse than the time before, and then they die. There are other stories about people feeling fine, but then have a slight cough, and they go see a doctor to learn their lungs have just about no oxygen in them, and then they die. Still, there are stories about people catching COVID, healing, and then traveling, only to develop another fever in the hotel, and then they die. And my mother-in-law just tried to tell me now you can’t drink coffee after having COVID because she’s heard about people who have…and then they die. Some of these are easy to mythbust while others aren’t.

My mother-in-law has been living with us for a few weeks because her brother has COVID. My mother-in-law has been sharing her place with her brother, and her brother and his son tested positive. This was while she was at our place for the afternoon. So, she’s just been with us since. Can’t have her going home just to catch COVID. Both her sisters, their husbands, and their children (my wife’s cousins) all currently have COVID. Seriously. That’s 17 people. Every day she speaks to her sisters or a family member with it, and the conversation always turns to someone they know who has died. It’s always So and So has COVID. Oh, no! Yeah, but they’re getting better now. But their husband/wife/aunt/child/cleaning lady/friend just died because of it. When not talking to someone in the family with COVID about their symptoms or someone else who has died of COVID, my mother-in-law spends her time watching WeChat Channel videos about people talking about their COVID symptoms or about other people who have died of COVID. And she cooks.

In the beginning of December, we went online for a week. It was expected. Cases were going up all around us in Dalian. We thought we’d be online into the holiday break, but it lasted only a week. We didn’t know what to think. There were dozens of cases, and yet we were not shut down. This had never happened before. What’s going on?

A behind the scenes look at what it’s like to teach an online class…

It was the next week that China did a 180 with their policies. It didn’t matter. COVID was racing through the school community. Staff and students tested positive, called off work, stopped showing up at school. Some students without symptoms or a positive result stayed home out of fear and asked for online classes. Staff that remained ran hybrid classes, but soon so few staff were left in the school that we officially switched to online, and everyone was expected to teach from home if they were able. Xiao Ming and I were in a batch of tests with abnormal results, but we tested the next day individually and were negative. For about a week and a half, COVID ripped through the ranks, infecting just about everyone around us. I think I’ve counted two teachers who have not had it, yet. Out of more than sixty. Despite zero lockdowns, Dalian is slow to go back to what it was even before the sudden lift of the government policies. Even I’ve limited my movements as much as possible. I’m unsure about when I can go back to the climbing gym without feeling like every hold I touch is covered in COVID, but at least my school has a weight room. People are afraid. With scenes on social media showing overflowing lines and packed parking lots at crematoriums, how can people not be? I don’t want to catch COVID, but more than anything, I don’t want to give it to my wife or son, and definitely not my seventy-year-old mother-in-law.

At times it feels like we’re living through the sequel of that apocalypse movie we started three years ago. Sickness and Death seemingly everywhere, no reliable means of gathering information or viable options for getting back to “normal.” My mother-in-law and others around me scared to the point of paralysis, stuck in a frenetic loop of cooking, cleaning, and doom-scrolling just to cope with the extreme fear they can’t overcome.

And then there are moments when the exact opposite seems to be happening. The World Cup just ended, countries are still waging war, advertisements about shopping discounts popping up, those not sick are travelling, and even China – Zero-COVID-is-scientific-and-we-won’t-change-China – has thrown in the towel and thrown open the gates and said “Fuck it” to pretty much all COVID response measures.

I feel more trapped and uncertain than in the first days when I was barricaded in by apartment complex. How long can this last?

Being with my family, finishing one task at a time for work or my masters, getting coffee, and reading a good book are the things keeping me sane.

No pandemic lasts longer than three years – 大疫不过三年 – the Chinese expression goes. When the media all around us is so convoluted, sabotaged, biased, or fearmongering for views trumps spreading truth, maybe ancient wisdom from those who lived through similar events is all we can count on.

In Summary – 小结

On By JordanIn Culture, Uncategorized2 Comments

So let’s recap, shall we? Been more than a year and it feels like a recap is in order. All at once now:

China keeps talking about its dream, telling everyone about this dream. Doesn’t give many hints about what the dream is, though. Just really wants people to know it still has a dream.

 

Wife and I have a baby. Let’s call him Son or First Blade here. First Blade could legitimately be an acceptable translation of his Chinese name, no joke. So, basically, he’s destined to be a badass. Being a Dad is amazing. Going on less sleep not so much. Diapers, burping, feeding, toys, naps, cries, sickness, hugs, rolling, crawling, walking, dancing.

There is a trip last Christmas when we (Xiao Ming, Son, me, and LaoLao—grandma) travel to the USA to visit family. What a crazy time! Son’s first Christmas! Don’t think we slept the whole time. Back to China just when it decides to make a new announcement: Down with the criminal element!

Sounds odd? It should. How does China tell people they mean business? Banners! Everyone gets a banner! Seriously, though: China wants people to know that they need to fight the HeiSheHui (Black Society). Kinda weird that you’re just now focusing on this, China, but whatever. Fight the good fight!

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One of my favorites. They’re just making up phrases now: “Break the ‘protective umbrella’ and demolish the ‘black background.”

encourage citizens to fight the black evil power and share in the benefits
More or less: “Encourage citizens to fight the black evil and share in the benefits.”

 

 

First Blade takes up an inordinate amount of time. Who knew that babies needed looking after? They should write books about this stuff. Oh, they do. I bought and read a few. More diapers, burping, feeding, toys, naps, cries, sickness, hugs, walking, and dancing. Oh, man, the double-edged sword of Chinese in-laws. So incredibly helpful! So incredibly frustrating! Culture is sometimes to blame, but not always. No more Starbucks Saturdays with Xiao Ming. Now it’s all about those kiddie play areas that seemed to have popped up over night. Living room also becomes a miniature play area! Toys everywhere. Somehow a year has passed, Son’s birthday has swung back around. Mama is his first word. Baba comes a bit later, but not before Ball.

Time has been divided in two: Work and Home. At work I get a new room – it’s not bad. Asian Lit all the way! The gym beckons and I take a rain check too often, but then, somewhere in there, I find a Climbing Gym in Dalian. Once a week turns into twice a week during the summer. Two-hour sessions become five and six hour climbing sessions. A new passion! Time is sliced into three, albeit uneven parts, now: Home, Work, Climbing.

 

 

America’s President irritates China. China irritates America. Trade War! Yay, fun times for years to come. I begin telling nosy cabbies I’m Canadian. Keeps the conversations civil, I’ve learned. In other news, China’s Social Credit Rating System is still a go. It’s strange. The highly touted One Belt One Road Initiative is still a go, too…sort of? Also not so straight-forward.

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It’s Christmas again! We don’t leave Dalian this time. We get a tree; a first in seven years for me. First Blade loves the ornaments. Too much. Most of them end up at the top of the tree because he keeps taking them off from where he can reach. A new word – Star. Or, the way he says it, Dar. Presents in the morning and playing all day.

Grandma gets it in her head to make burgers for the Christmas meal. They actually turn out delicious: I eat three. First Blade wears his Santa sweater, downloaded holiday cartoons from the sixties play on loop in the background, and in the evening some cousins come over with the family and we hang out until our little guy begins yawning. A bath and bedtime. Merry Christmas!

That Time I Thought I’d Die in China

On By JordanIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

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Somewhere on the lower right side, in that dark space, are two spots that should not be there. Those are those the kidney stones of death.

“I roll out of bed and crash to the floor in severe pain at 11 p.m. I cannot stand. Hobbling to the bathroom, I open the faucet and splash cold water on my face. A deep, sharp pain erupts in my side and my back breaks out in a sheen of sweat. I hover over the toilet, not sure what is about to happen. A ripple of pain drops me to my knees just as I hurl the contents of my stomach into the basin. Again and again.

Tears mix with sweat and six words become a mantra in my mind: I’m going to die in China.”

Read the rest of this at Verge Magazine’s website – 

http://www.vergemagazine.com/work-abroad/blogs/2049-that-time-i-thought-i-d-die-in-china.html

Travel With Purpose – Verge Magazine

On By JordanIn Uncategorized1 Comment

 

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“I’m not sure when the zombie dreams stopped.

It used to be that at least twice a month I fought off assaults from the undead as soon as I closed my eyes. Trapped in my apartment building, locked in a crowded bus, sprinting through the streets as a horde stumbled, limped and lumbered after me.

Any psychoanalyst worth his salt can tell you why I had the dreams; I live in China.

From a numbers approach, China can easily overwhelm. People Mountain, People Sea, the first Chinese idiom I learned—”ren shan ren hai”—basically means there are people as far as the eye can see everywhere you go. After five and a half years, though, I’ve mostly figured out how to make things work between me and the 1.3 billion people who became my neighbours.”

Originally Published by Verge Magazine – Check out the whole thing at: http://www.vergemagazine.com/work-abroad/blogs/1983-forging-my-china-life.html

This is an excerpt from a recent blog post I wrote for Verge Magazine, a site dedicated to what they call “travel for change.” The magazine helps people study, travel, and work abroad, and their message of “Travel with purpose” is extremely appealing for those who like to get out in the wide open world for more than just photo ops.

 

Calling on Relatives – 串门儿

On By JordanIn Uncategorized3 Comments

paper-cut-china-rooster-credit-tlpsart-edublogs-org
It’s my turn, people! Fire Rooster! Credit: Yvonne Osborn http://tlpsart.edublogs.org/

China is a country full of tradition. China is also full of people that have no time for tradition.

But most of those folks fall in line during the Chinese Spring Festival. They save up, fight for their tickets home, stuff Red Envelopes with their hard-earned cash (many of them giving up meals to do so), and spend the first week of the Lunar January with their family eating dish after dish of homemade grub. Most families pull out all the stops. Preparing the New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day meals are endeavors they labor over, choreograph, and take pride in. For days before the event, Xiao Ming’s family blew up the family WeChat Group with instructions for preparing and making the food. You’d have thought they expected Xi Jinping himself to show up.

The celebratory atmosphere lasts until Lantern Festival which is the fifteenth day of the first Lunar Month, this year that’s February 11. It’s really just the first week of the New Year that gets most of the attention, though. Once the family is all together they eat, play mahjong, watch the Spring Fesitval Gala, and some, you know, like fireworks a little bit. Starting at eleven pm you hear the crack and pop and explosive bursts all throughout the city. This goes on for about a week with minor slowdowns throughout the daytime.

For most foreigners celebrating Spring Festival in China they learn about the importance of red, fireworks, and Red Envelopes first. Those are the shiny parts of the holiday and integral to the celebrations, but another tradition is all the visiting of relatives that’s expected. The Chinese call it chuan menr – 串门儿. Just like many Americans on New Year’s Day, the Chinese pay visits to family members at this time of year.

Luckily for Xiao Ming and me, most of the family lives here in Kai Fa Qu. We headed over to the oldest male cousin’s house. He lives in the same complex as Xiao Ming’s parents and aunts. There’s like eight family members in that one complex. We used to live there, too, but it was before everyone decided it was the best place in the world to live. Now we have at least a ten-minute walk separating us!

As usual when there is a family dinner, only about half the food was ready by the designated time of 4 pm. Everyone fretted over something. Chairs for the guests, enough cups, chop sticks, who wore too little, who was too thin, who was too fat. The spread looked great. Tasted better.

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I’ve been here too long. That all looks really good to me!

After the food we all just chilled. The aunts played mahjong in the back, couple of the uncles smoked and talked about nonsense, and Xiao Ming and I watched some of the Spring Festival Gala. Every year this program takes over Chinese TV and heralds the New Year with performances from all over the country. Dances, songs, Kung Fu performances, Chinese skits of Crosstalk (Xiang Sheng), and of course over-the-top patriotic interviews with men and women in service jobs and military posts.

Then Jackie Chan leads everyone in a song of “My Home is in My Heart” while simultaneously performing Chinese Sign Language. Yeah, seriously.  Here’s a better link to it. 

Like Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve, there’s the same host for decades, a countdown, and even a Midnight Meal. Back home we ate Sour Kraut and Pork. Here they eat…

Dumplings!

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Eat Me!!!

Surprised by this, anyone?

I noticed the fireworks the most my first year in China. The noise, smoke, colors. It was the Year of the Dragon. Aside from what I read online or was told at my work, I didn’t take part in much celebrating that first year, at least not Chinese celebrations. With each year that passes that changes. Dragon, Snake, Horse, Goat, Monkey, and now the Rooster. Being a part of a Chinese family has changed the way I view and experience China. How could it not?

And a random video of me walking:

Wedding Photos – 婚纱照

On By JordanIn Culture, Uncategorized5 Comments

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A totally natural fit. Nothing amiss here, folks.

 

I’ve passed the booths and tables many times. Always a young girl sitting and playing on her phone while before her, laid out on the table, are booklets, posters, and framed photos of newlyweds in all sorts of poses.

The photography industry in China is huge – 30Billion Dollar Industry by some accounts!

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I’m such a pretty bride!

In the spring and summer couples flock to the local parks for their outdoor shoots, and descend on the foreign-looking buildings because it’s fashionable to take photos in front of them, and even schedule elaborate trips in order to capture on-site images instead of using green screens or poster backdrops. When Xiao Ming and I were in Nice a few years ago we saw two photography groups following Chinese couples around!

We talked about taking the pictures ourselves around the time we got married two years ago, but neither of us wanted to really commit to it. We’re not picture-takers. But after Xiao Ming’s cousin got her photos a few months ago we decided to just get it over with. So, on November 6th we spent NINE hours dressed like what felt like fools in a few of the outfits, and, yes, even got some shots of us in front of foreign looking buildings out in the middle of nowhere about forty minutes away.

Not going through that again.

LiYing Wedding Photography is a two-floor shop down a side street beside iMall (No connection to Apple products whatsoever). The mall used to be the only competition for Ansheng Shopping Center across the intersection, but now that a Wanda Shopping Center opened just up the street Kai Fa Qu consumers have plenty of places to spend their money. We arrive before 8 am, and Xiao Ming is ushered into the back where her make-up is applied by women with questionable cosmetic choices themselves.

A Chinese girl so small I could probably toss her across the room comes up to me and says she’ll be putting make-up on me and doing my hair. I laugh.

No way.

 

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“If they don’t recognize you, you know you’ve done your job!”

I make it clear to her that my hair is the way I want it, and there’s no way in hell I’m getting any make-up put on me. Shit, my mom and aunts had to hold me down as a toddler just to apply sunscreen!

So then after Xiao Ming is dolled up enough that I might mistake her for someone else, we put on our first outfits. We’d gone in two weeks before to select our clothing and decided on at least a few shots wearing the traditional red Chinese gowns (I also insisted on having shots done with us wearing our normal clothes and leather jackets!). We donned them and then traipsed upstairs for the first round of pics. It’s no good. Babies are everywhere being asked to smile and say “eggplant.” Qiezi, the Chinese for eggplant, is basically their “Cheese” for photos. Saying it makes them grimace just like saying “cheese” does for us Americans.

So our entourage packs up for a place they call the “basement” that’s in Jinzhou, about thirty minutes or so away. Sure, whatever. Just let me change back into my normal clothes first. Nope! We both walk outside in our flashy red gowns for all the Sunday morning busybodies to see.

Along the way we stop for some Chinese breakfast – still my least favorite of the Chinese meals. After the food everyone dozes as we drive toward Jinzhou, the county to the west of Kai Fa Qu. When we get to the “basement” it’s pretty clear the name is a euphemism.

 

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Statue.

Tian Lai Wan is a mostly abandoned complex that looks like something you’d see in England or parts of France. Pale stone slabs for the exterior, statues, and columns. Close to the coast and eerily quiet, you could almost forget you’re in China.

The facility is shared by seven photography companies, and they’ve all put money into the place. Sets – that’s the only way to think of them – are everywhere. Castle, Bar, Pool Hall, Library, Wine Cellar, Park, Bridge, Nondescript Rustic Foreign Place, etc.

Once there, we begin.

NINE hours and a lunch break later, we finish.

Never again!

The day is done and we’re wiped out. Xiao Ming is just swearing up and down in our pidgin Chinese-English mix we’ve developed as a couple together (we’re so cultured! Haha). I’m half asleep and hungry sitting next to her. But we’re done.

It’s about a month before we get a call that says we can come in and see the digital copies and make our final selections. Apprehensive and skeptical, we go in and look through the 200 pics. We were nervous because the dresses Xiao Ming wore were a bit too big on her, the make-up was way more than she ever wears (which is none), and I have a notorious habit for making monkey faces in my pictures.

After pouring over the photos for about half an hour, we narrow our selections down to 44. There are some decisions about sizes and layout, and then we’re told it’ll be another half month. We wait. Three weeks later we’re called. Yay! Picture pick up!

Except not. We get there and are shown the digital book pages that will become the printed hardcopy books. It took three weeks to put this together, I ask. The woman nods hesitantly. I straight up ask her what they’ve done in three weeks. I tell her that if I’d had the digital copies I could have arranged them just like what she’s shown us in one day. There’s nothing she can do, I know, but sometimes bitching about nonsense feels good.

She tells us it’ll be another half month before we can pick up the books!

And so a few days ago we got the call and went to retrieve the pictures we’d taken in the Autumn.

How’d they turn out?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chinese Parents -中国父母

On By JordanIn Culture, Uncategorized2 Comments

Being married to a Chinese woman isn’t exactly like those melodramatic TV shows or the ridiculously formulaic Korean dramas that people can’t seem to get enough of here.

Ever watch one?

Turn on the tube and chances are you’ll catch one of five types of show:

Dynastic China with subtle, watered-down undertones of political commentary, a World War II series that usually makes the Kuomintang out to be insufferable fools and the Japanese as subhuman monsters while the Communists are righteously wielding inferior weapons and still coming out on top, a medical drama with absurdly handsome and young people staring very sternly at one another, a game show where people just straight up do stupid shit for really nothing but the audience’s applause, or the Korean family drama.

Korean dramas usually follow the boy meets girl story, and then they throw a wammy of boy meets girl’s family and must win over the overbearing parents. Follow that up with boy marries girl. Then girl must win over the overbearing mother of the boy. Once they all like each other there is usually an issue with the pregnancy or stress put on the girl for a boy (the more desired). And in the midst of it all someone gets themselves tossed into the hospital because of a sickness or some stupid behavior that in the end brings to light that they all just love each other and want good things for the family. Yay – happily ever after.

I may have sidetracked myself.

My point is that being married to a Chinese woman isn’t always like that, but dealing with parents in this culture does require some flexibility. Xiao Ming’s mom and dad have always welcomed me, but man can they push my buttons, too.

I come home one day a few weeks back and ol’ mom and pop are there hanging out with Xiao Ming. Her dad motions for me to follow him into my office, so I do. We stand in front of the dresser and he points to it, saying that he fixed it. I open the drawers and sure enough they slide open and shut seamlessly. The flimsy bottoms had begun to bow and made those motions difficult. Great! Fixed. Thanks, Dad.

Except the second thing I noticed was that everything in the drawers were now somehow reorganized. I don’t just have a dresser of clothes. I use three drawers for other things like nik-naks, notebooks, etc. Nothing too crazy personal, but still, personal. To fix the dresser he had to take everything out and then to put it back the way he did, he had to carefully think about how to put items where. So he just went through all my stuff.

If you’re thinking to yourself, Jordan, he fixed the dresser. You’re right. Absolutely. If I were a better person, I’d see that and stop there. I’m not, and I didn’t.

I pulled Xiao Ming to the side, told her I appreciated the help. I didn’t ask for it, but, sure, thanks.
Side note – I grew up working on most weekends helping my stepdad maintain our rentals. I know how to do home maintenance. And, yes, it does bother me to have someone in my home doing things I can do myself. That make me a small man? Fine. I own that.

So I tell Xiao Ming that I’m uncomfortable with the way it all went down. They pop over all the time unannounced, and even come in and fiddle around when we’re not home from time to time. Whatever. No issues. But going through my dresser, even to fix it, was something I’m not okay with.

Xiao Ming gets it. She even admits that she told her father not to do it because I wouldn’t like it. Love her. She knows me. But I’m still seeing red. I have to say something, I tell her. To him. Right now. No, no, she says, but I don’t give in.

I greet him in the living room – damn he’s a small guy – and I very politely thank him for helping with the dresser. But, I add, next time – oh no, he senses my tone and is bowing his head with that uncomfortable smile – I’d like to fix something like that myself. He nods and I walk back to my office like a horrible troll that’s collected a tax for walking over his bridge. Immediately I feel crappy. He does, too, and I can hear him talking to Xiao Ming about it.

What should I have done? That was my line.

In the end, it blows over. After all, we’re family!

And today I come home to a house with a few lights on that I know I turned off. Strange. I go into the bathroom to wash my face and get a shower since I’m sweaty from the gym. Can’t do that. The handle for the bathroom sink is missing.

And the drawers under the sink are sitting oddly. I pull on one and it falls out. The tracks it’s supposed to be on are sticking out of the trash, all rusted and old looking. Obviously Xiao Ming’s father has been here.

So apparently he plans to fix the bathroom sink and the drawers. True, both are due for an upgrade, but they were manageable. A call to Xiao Ming to see if she knows anything. Nope. Her dad has just pulled one of his ninja moves. So now instead of having a sink that works and one that I can fix on the weekend, I have no sink and I have to wait until he feels like finishing what he’s started in case I upset him like I did last time when I asked him to stop fixing things.

As I typed this he sent a message to Xiao Ming –

         告诉Jordan，卫生间里的水龙头坏了。我明天买新的换上。
         Tell Jordan, the bathroom’s sink head is broken.
          I’ll buy a new one and put it on tomorrow.

Yup, I’m a rotten person.

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Welcome to the family. Just so you know, dinner is at five every night, and, um, well, I’m retired so I’ll be sneaking over to your house as often as possible.

Xiao Ming has her own battles with her mother, though. She gets on Xiao Ming for everything from our habit of getting delivery most nights to driving habits. She’s always giving Xiao Ming grief about not cooking a lot, about how the apartment could be cleaner (It’s pretty damn clean!), and making Xiao Ming call her everyday just so her mother knows she made it home from work. We eat with them usually once every two weeks, sometimes less. I don’t know, but for me that seems like a good amount for most adult children. Of course her mother makes her feel bad that we don’t eat over there most nights like her cousins eat with their parents. The fact that the cousins still live with their parents and don’t work the same hours as we do doesn’t seem to affect this sentiment at all.

I couldn’t imagine life here without the whole Liu Clan. Everyone from the quiet, meddling father and nagging but caring mother to the fussy aunts and noisy uncles makes life here richer and more meaningful.

China Hand? 中国通？

On By JordanIn Culture, UncategorizedLeave a comment

If you happened to anchor in one of China’s ports during the 19th century often enough to pick up the language, or manned posts on Chinese soil while working as a Foreign Service Officer during the ridiculously complicated years surrounding the Chinese Civil War, then you may have been a China Hand—中国通.

 

As a foreigner, being called or recognized as a bona fide China Hand by a Chinese person is about the highest compliment there is. Doing business here, teaching English, or even marrying a national doesn’t qualify you as one. Reciting Tang Dynasty poets like Li Bai, Du Fu, Bai Juyi, or Wang Wei won’t get you the moniker, either.

 

As with any term steeped in culture and history, it changes and evolves with the times. Just like the common address for a young man today in China, Handsome Guy, shuai ge—帅哥. It’s the modern watered-down distillation of a word with a very different original meaning. Yuan Shuai used to refer to a military position of some rank. A soldier at this rank undoubtedly possessed some stellar qualities—probably admirable and honorable to boot. It’s not too hard to see how the title got commandeered and repurposed to describe particularly handsome guys. Knowing the history doesn’t make it any less annoying when people flit around calling everyone shuai ge.

 

I digress—China Hands! This distinguished nickname now gets toted out and tossed around whenever a witty comment or an insight into Chinese history is made. In a culture where exaggeration of worth and value is expected toward strangers and acquaintances but nit-picking and denigration is par for the course within families or tight circles mixed signals abound for those new to China.

 

Any expat making even the flimsiest attempts at Mandarin will be complimented as soon as they utter Ni Hao. Mention Mao Zedong, throw out an idiom, or even talk about any one of the two dozen holidays on the calendar (lunar, of course), and someone will call you a China Hand. That seem contradictory to what I already wrote? It’s not-ish. Because you probably don’t really know the person you’re talking to when you hear it. They may be a merchant, a co-worker, a prospective business contact, or even your weekly A Yi. What I’m saying is that chances are, they don’t view you as a family member or even as one of their inner circle. Those expats that are fortunate enough to make it into these close-knit relationships can get the honest answers, the honest compliments. And 99% of expats here are not China Hands.

 

I don’t know any of the merchants from two hundred years back, but I know a little about the guys that hung around China seventy years ago. John S. Service, Owen Lattimore, John K. Fairbank, John Paton Davies, Jr, and my father-in-law’s favorite that he likes to bring up whenever we talk about modern Chinese history, journalist Edgar Snow—these are the 中国通 that got caught up in one of the most pivotal times in Chinese history.

john-paton-davies-with-cpc
John Paton Davies, Jr. hanging out with Mao Zedong and Zhou Enlai, just to name a few there. The ‘Breaking of an Honorable Career’ by Roderick MacFarquhar | The New York Review of Books

If anyone deserves to be called 中国通 it’s them. They mingled with the top brass in China—both sides. Chiang Kai-Shek and his beautiful wife Soong Mei-Ling, Mao Zedong and Zhou Enlai…These China Hands saw history unfold and often influenced its outcomes in various ways, sometimes not always for the best. China Hands like these folks just don’t come around all that often because they are frequently a product of tumultuous times themselves, thrust into positions because of necessity and duty. Thankfully, things are a lot more stable these days, but the idea of the China Hand is still very present among the people.

edgar-snow-with-zhou-enlai
Edgar Snow chilling with Zhou Enlai and his wife, Deng Yingchao. en.wikipedia.org

 

Why am I bringing any of this up? Well, it’s because I just had my Five Year China Anniversary. I say that like it’s a thing, I know. For me it is. All of this was originally supposed to be a One Year Stint. And then it became more.

 

My father-in-law constantly brings up the idea of me being a China Hand. He wants me to study Mandarin and modern history without pause. Xiao Ming is more practical about it all. She’s flat out told me that no one can become a 中国通 in less than 10 years. So, I’ve got time. No rush. Who knows if I’ll ever actually make it…

 

Regardless, it’s a hell of a life. That’s the big thing for this year, that realization. China was an experiment for me. It was something that I’d check out. Spend a year looking around and then go home. Move on. If I’d gone home after a year, two years, maybe even if I went home at the three-year mark, that’s all it would have remained—an experience. But now that it’s five years and a day, and with all that’s changed and happened, it’s clear that the China Experiment is over and the China Life is what it’s become. My China Life. Life.

 

Maybe my wife is right, she usually is, and I have five more years and a day before I can be counted among the China Hands. It’s not like one day you wake up and they give you a card or anything. But how cool would that be?

img_0124-1
This guy, a China Hand? Riiiight.

Speaking of official documents, a Time Out Shanghai article recently shed light on a topic I’ve heard rumors about. The visa hurdles here in place are not to be taken lightly, but China has a plan. A new ABC ranking system where they categorize foreigners working here as either top talent (A), professional talent (B), or unskilled worker (C) is being implemented.

 

Reading this article (http://www.timeoutshanghai.com/features/Blog-Shanghai_news/39148/ID-cards-and-talent-ranking-for-foreigners-in-work-permit-reforms.html ) also got me onto the topic of China Hands because of a few lines where they mention some of the criteria that the Chinese Govt will use to make their determinations. The Global Times is quoted in the article as saying “…factors such as salary, educational background, time spent in China, Chinese language proficiency and where the foreigner has worked in China (with work in less developed regions being rewarded)” will be a part of the decision-making process.

 

As the roll out date is this April, I wonder how this will affect me and others like me. Are they going to actually test expats with Mandarin exams? Will they give preference to those that have been here for a long time? Married into a family? They promise to provide “helpful guides” to foreigners, so I guess I’ll wait in line for those?

 

Anyway—Five Years has been great.

 

P.S.

I do, in fact, know a bit about one of the merchants from way back. John O’Donnell was the first merchant to ship China-made goods to Baltimore. After amassing a fortune from this trade business and becoming one of the big names in Baltimore, he named his plantation Canton. This name comes from Guangzhou, China and is how it appeared on maps for many years. Well, I’m from Canton, the one in Ohio, not Maryland. Turns out that the surveyor (of the Ohio Canton) admired O’Donnell so much that he borrowed the O’Donnell plantation name for my hometown. It’s random. It’s true. Look it up.

P.P.S.

I guess sometime soon I should write about Malaysia, Singapore, going back home, DC, SC, Xinjiang, Gansu, and getting back into the swing of school again. Maybe later.

Letters from the Past; Letters to the Future

On By JordanIn Uncategorized, WritingLeave a comment

If it’s possible to be nostalgic for the future, as a teenager, I managed it.

For about five years, on December 31st, I would round up the four or five closest people in my life and force them (on more than one occasion threaten them) to pen an epistle to their future selves. Each year the “To be Opened” date was randomly selected. I think the first time around was when I was 16. Patience wasn’t a strong virtue of mine then (nor is it one I champion now), so I think we wrote to two years into the future. The next time around was maybe three. And so on.

The first group to be strong-armed into this included my brother, best friend, girlfriend, girlfriend’s cousin (my neighbor), and girlfriend’s cousin’s boyfriend. And me.

Madly in love with my girlfriend, I wrote largely about her. I threw in some obligatory concessions to family and friends, but mostly, it was to her. I don’t know what the others wrote about because I delivered their letters to them without prying.

The deal was that they’d write the letters and I’d seal them in envelopes and make sure they got them at the appointed time. Because we had planned to write them each year, burying them like time capsules didn’t seem practical. Instead, I placed them (alongside other childhood treasures like cards, middle school notes, an old pocket knife, and oddly enough, those Jaw-Dropper Magic infomercial VHS tapes) in an army tin and slid the thing under my bed.

True to my word, I never looked at the letters and I got them to their writers each time. Even after I broke up with the girl I had written about, I got her letter to her (and her cousin with whom I was not on speaking terms). The years went by a few more times, and the letter writing continued. The group changed, with a few of us staying and others going. In 2010 I got a group together for the last time and we wrote letters.

The group consisted of my best friend, mother, brother-in-law, my wife, and me.

I just found these letters today, lying at the bottom of the tin, under the Jaw-Dropper videos. They were to be opened on January First, 2013. That didn’t happen because I was in China.

photo(2)

Considering the changes that have taken place in all of our lives since their writing, these letters make me apprehensive. I’m no longer married, I’ve been out of the country for more than two years, and I haven’t seen my best friend yet since I’ve been home for a little more than a week. The rest of the group had a crazy last couple of years, too, so as I stare at the envelopes setting atop the desk I used to complete homework on in high school, I’m hesitant to read mine. I have no clue how to get the letters to the two others that I don’t see, and I’m not sure if my friend even wants his. I can hand my mother’s to her, but then what about mine?

In 2010 I had a life trajectory that I could see ahead into for years. By the end of 2013 that path has been demolished and built over so that now, I’ve got visibility for about a few months out or so. Not only is it a new path, it’s a route that wasn’t even on the damn map before.

As I wrote before: I count myself among the truly blessed to be living the life I want to be living. Even if it comes to an end sooner than I want, I have been able to lead the very life I have always wanted to lead. How many people can say that?

That being sad, there have been plenty of mistakes on my part. I’ve hurt people, and I’ve let others down. I’ve gone through pain and no small amount of stress due to the things I’ve done or haven’t done right.

And every time my eye catches the corner of the envelope hanging half off the desk, I’m reminded of these failures. I truly have no idea what I wrote about, but one thing is certain: I had no way of knowing the Jordan who would be reading the words written.

On this day, though, as is the heart of the holiday, I’m looking ahead as well as at what is in my past. I will read the letter, and I will let the words do whatever they plan to do, but then I will fold up the paper, tuck it back into the envelope, and put it back in the tin where it will stay. The tin will get slid back under the bed that is no longer mine, and I will go about my life.

I’ve got so much yet to learn from life that I can’t be consumed by the lessons of yesterday. Forgetting them would be equally foolish, but then again, I’ve never been one to let go of the past anyways. Instead, I’ll learn from the experiences and just simply let go of the baggage. I recently read a fantastic quote on a friend’s Facebook.

“Experience is not what happens to you; it’s what you do with what happens to you.” — Aldous Huxley

This is my motto for the coming year. Just decided it, and I feel good about the decision.

Where ever you are and whoever you’re with, take your experiences and do something crazy. Learn, Love, and Live in 2014!

*And because I won’t be able to get the song out of my head until Chinese Spring Festival, here’s a classic.*

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old lang syne ?

CHORUS:

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

And surely you’ll buy your pint cup !
and surely I’ll buy mine !
And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We two have run about the slopes,
and picked the daisies fine ;
But we’ve wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine† ;
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.

CHORUS

And there’s a hand my trusty friend !
And give me a hand o’ thine !
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

Robert Burns.

English Version.

The only difference between this picture and most Chinese cities: Confetti. I should totally buy some when I get back and just start launching confetti into crowds and taking pictures. Yeah, that'll work.
The only difference between this picture and most Chinese cities: Confetti. I should totally buy some when I get back and just start launching confetti into crowds and taking pictures. Yeah, that’ll work.

Hometown (Jia Xiang)

On By JordanIn Travels, Uncategorized, Writing2 Comments

The lack of sleep may be playing a part in it, or it could be the jet-lag. Either way, I’m back in my hometown and I feel a bit like Frodo after he returned to the Shire: bored, homesick for a home that no longer exists, and ready for something to happen.

The drive through the place that was home not so long ago felt vacant of meaning and alien as we cruised through empty streets at two am. Suburbs in NE Ohio are truly suburbs. Except for the shopping areas, neighborhoods and communities seemed almost too spaced out—a yard for everyone and plenty of room between the roads and the front doors.

For the last two and a half years I’ve been living in a culture that doesn’t really comprehend the idea of a suburban, or urban for that matter, area that has room enough for all its inhabitants. Parking lots are afterthoughts for building designers, and most cities are filled with residential complexes instead of individual homes. Unlike Japan, where the overcrowding has given rise to a very polite society, Chinese public interaction customs have evolved to exclude the words “excuse me,” “I’m sorry,” and even, “thank you,” in all but the most direct of situations.

That guy who stepped on your foot and hawked a loogie on the bus floor right next to you? Yeah, he ain’t wasting his breath apologizin’ for nothin’.

In stark contrast to the crowds I’ve gotten used to, we traveled back to my parents’ home without seeing barely a soul on the road for more than an hour. True, it was late, but even when places are closed down in Dalian, there are always people around. I honestly hadn’t realized that I liked that. It’s amazing what you can get used to.

Time is a tricky son of a gun. It’s not so Frostian as nothing gold sticking around for long, it’s just that there’s so much gold out there that once you see a hint of it you want to see more.

Going home is important. Two Christmases away called for a return home, but there is that part of me that just won’t go away. It’s what got me out of Ohio and what is digging at me now to keep moving. Someone once called me a wanderer, but I don’t think it’s as poetic as that. Nor is it as simple as being restless. I think I just can’t sit my ass down in one place for too long.

Christmas and this time of year, as it tends to do for others, puts me in a reflective mood, and I suppose that’s why I’m rambling now. I feel supremely blessed to be living the life that I want, and to have a family that supports that chosen life. It’s not every parent that would tolerate their oldest living on the other side of the globe for long periods at a time.

I’ve still got a lot of folks to see, so I better stop wasting time on here and get moving.

Family Christmas tree for this year. I haven't had one the last two years...nice to see it this time around.
Family Christmas tree for this year. I haven’t had one the last two years…nice to see it this time around.