China: Virgin Only Territory?

Sex. Perhaps a topic on which I should tread lightly—not only because it's taboo, but also because I am no expert. I wrote about it once before and it's been weighing on my mind again lately thanks to some interesting blog posts I've read (a recent one on Speaking of China and an oldie but goody on a great China blog I discovered: Laowhynot) as well as due to a rather disturbing discussion I had with a student last weekend—more on that later.

There are lots of different stereotypes about foreigners in China, notably that we are sex hounds with insatiable sex drives. Since I'm married, I rarely have to deal with the problems that come with being perceived as such. Ming has shared some of the locker room talk he has with his male co-workers and (although I'm sure he somewhat sensors it), it sounds fairly innocuous. He faces a few rather benign questions about his sex life with a foreigner. Mostly, he just tells people it's none of their business. I guess it's not, though I understand why people are curious. Though people everywhere are generally the same: they have family, they eat, they have friends, they work, they have sex. It's the attitudes towards these things which sometimes vary greatly.

photo by popawilli via Photobucket

Even in modern China, I feel like attitudes toward sex and dating are a bit backwards. While the situation is certainly changing, double standards abound. Most notably, young women are often expected to save themselves for the man they intend to marry. One of my close Chinese friends exemplifies the situation perfectly.

Firstly, she feels I am one of the only people she can openly talk to about sex. She admitted that even in conversations with her closest Chinese friends, the topic is skirted around. As a 20-something woman, she afraid to even admit she's had sex. She was most afraid to admit this to her mother, but after having dating the same man for five years, the truth finally came to light. The true injustice of things surfaced once her and her boyfriend broke up. Her mother marked her as damaged good's, proclaiming that if she wanted to get married she'd “have to settle for a divorced man.” Evidently, only virgin females get to marry single Chinese males.

Of course, a lot of Chinese people see the unfairness. My oldest student, a 17-year-old high school girl, actually brought the topic up. She is frustrated by the double standard and told me that lately it's been fervently debated online. Many people support women's sexual freedom, while others make wild claims that it is a woman's duty to remain a virgin for her intended husband. Why? According to my student, some netizens are arguing that when a woman sleeps with a man, part of his DNA is left behind. When the woman later become pregnant, the DNA of all her past lovers is passed on to the fetus. Whaaaaaaat? And the rationalization for wanting a virgin wife continues on. . . 

What are attitudes like in your country? Do you think there is a double standard when it comes to sex and gender?

Turning into my parents

Back when she was still a little girl.
First day of 1st Grade, Sept 2010.

It inevitably happens to most of us at one point or another. . . we turn into our parents. We start doing things that we swore we would never, ever do. I don't consider myself much of a nag and I have aspired never to become one, yet I feel myself slowly descending into a hectoring mother who is constantly complaining and never satisfied. The kind of mother that, as a child, you don't look forward to coming home to. I'm still trying to figure out what kind of mom I want to be, but I do know that I don't want to be that mother. But now the Ping has become a tween, I'm having difficulty getting my bearings on who I am as a parent. She is no longer a cute, adoring child, but is morphing into a grown person with her own ideas about the world and her need to establish independence.

This age is confusing for all of us. Somehow stuck between being a kid and a grown-up, it is difficult to find a balance between teaching her how to become more of an adult yet accepting that she is still, in a lot of ways, just a kid. My difficulty is compounded by the fact that we speak two different languages. I can't always express myself properly so instead of explaining why something must be done, I have become of a broken record of simple commands, “Stop,” “No!” and “Don't do that.”

Another issue I keep running up upon is that, even after nearly a decade here, I still don't always understand how things are done in China. Yesterday Ping came home from school, informing her grandma that she needed 340 rmb (about US$60) for school books, to be paid in cash the next day. When Ming's mom relayed the information to me, I didn't think to question it—though the amount did seem a bit high. Chinese students constantly come home shaking down their parents for money to buy stuff their teacher demands. In the US, we would be given a notice and breakdown of anything we need to purchase for school with ample time to scrape the money together.

I like the US way; it eliminates some of the guess work. In China, I'm still a rookie at trying to figure out where half my money is going. You could go so far as to call me naïve. Ming knows better than I. When it comes to Ping or anyone else, he gets a rundown on what money would be used for, being sure that each RMB is accounted for. I assumed, perhaps foolishly, that Ping wouldn't ask for more than what was needed. It turns out that some of the money was going towards (optional) magazine subscriptions the children can purchase. A purchase, Ping knows (I thought she knew?), she must discuss with us before making.

Another issue we are dealing with is safety. Back in the US, parents worry about things like “stranger danger,” keeping our kids safe from pedophiles and predators. In China, we do need to protect our kids from strangers, yes. Children get kidnapped from time to time. But just like in the US, I think incidents of random adults stealing or hurting kids are somewhat rare. A more immediate danger is what kids are putting into their bodies when their parents aren't looking. I'm not talking about sneaking chocolate chip cookies or potato chips, (which I did every chance I could get when I was little), but buying food from unscrupulous vendors outside the school gates. Near Ping's school there are dozens of vendors and small shops catering to kids. They sell cheap snacks, often deep fried, and of rather dubious quality. The odds that many of them are using spoiled or expired food are high. Despite Ming's warnings, Ping can seem to help herself from purchasing these dirty delicacies. The results are often a very upset stomach.

What to do? I'm trying to figure it out. I'm also making a conscious effort to be a better, more understanding mother. What about you, do you find that you are in some ways starting to act like your own parents? Does it bother you?

A Taste of Chengde

Chengde's Little Potala Palace

I had the chance to visit a friend of mine in Beijing recently. While I was there we chatted with a few locals, mostly taxi drivers—they are among the best people to practice speaking Chinese with—who were interested in why us foreigners were in China. I have my standard answer, that my husband is Chinese and from nearby Chengde.

inside the Summer Mountain Resort

Over 300 years ago, the Kangxi Emperor chose Chengde as his place for summer residence. Thanks to Chengde's cool summer temperatures (well, at least compared to Beijing) and beautiful scenery, it seemed like a good pick. Construction of The Summer Mountain Resort, which is 2.2 square miles (that's 5.6 square km for my metric friends), took about 90 years. It is filled with palaces, gardens, pagodas and lots of other good stuff. Locals, especially the elderly, congregate there every morning. In the summer, especially on the weekends, it is packed full of tourists, many of them from Beijing.

Chengde's Little Potala Palace

Upon hearing Chengde, they all inevitably exclaim, “The Summer Mountain Resort!” (避暑山庄bìshǔ shānzhuāng in Mandarin, literally meaning “avoiding the summer heat mountain villa” in English). Many Chinese people and probably just about every Beijinger know Chengde thanks to its biggest tourist attraction. The Summer Mountain Resort is a UNESCO World Heritage Site along with Chengde's Eight Outer Temples. I must admit, I feel a tiny burst of pride that I get to live in a place that holds an important place in Chinese history.

downtown Chengde

The Summer Mountain Resort is nice, no doubt, although I don't think its 120 rmb (US $20) entrance fee is justified, especially since Beijing's similarly splendid Summer Palace only costs a fraction of that. Luckily, I can get an annual local pass for unlimited visits for the bargain price of 50 RMB. What I really like about Chengde is the surrounding temples, particularly the mini Potala Palace (also known as Putuo Zongcheng Temple in English and 普陀宗乘之庙pǔtuó zōngchéng zhī miào in Mandarin). It is modeled after the Potala Palace in Lhasa Tibet and is one of the largest temples in China. If temples are your thing, this one is definitely worth visiting.

But the biggest benefit of living in Chengde is the small city atmosphere. I do love Beijing, but living there was often hard. As with any big city, life moves faster. People aren't always as personable. Commuting can be torturous. Pollution often paints blue skies gray. Life in Chengde is simpler and people are usually kind. Some people may find it boring here—there's no Starbucks, few bars, and hardly any other foreigners—but I've come to enjoy living in a small Chinese city surrounded by mostly Chinese things.

Chengde backstreet 

When people back home ask what it's like living here, it's hard to explain. In some ways, life isn't so different as life back home, but I guess the differences are in all the little details. The temples dotting the mountains, the fortune tellers that hang out on the sidewalks, the middle-aged ladies dancing outside in the evening, and the peddlers who come around every morning screaming their wares and services. Pictures can only begin to capture a place, but I thought I'd post some photos of Chengde for those interested in what this small Chinese city is like. Enjoy! 

the city square and mosque

Teacher's Day

Luna playing the guzheng

Yesterday was Teacher's Day. I don't know whether or not it is an official international holiday, but it joins the list of widely celebrated holidays in China that seem to go unrecognized in the US (others include Women's Day and Children's Day). I remember my first Teacher's Day well, as it is often hard to forget painfully embarrassing experiences. At the time, I was working as a high school English teacher here in Chengde. The day before the holiday, my boss approached me in the teacher's office, right as I was getting ready to leave work. She wanted me to prepare a performance for the next day's teachers' assembly. “What kind of performance?” I asked. “Oh, anything will do—you can sing or dance or play an instrument,” she replied casually. My heart jumped up into my throat. As anyone who knows me can attest, I can't sing or dance or play anything. I'm more of the artsy fartsy variety.

Looking back, I should have protested. I should have refused. I should have made up any excuse to get out of such an impossible situation. But I was a naïve. I was a good sport. And I ended up looking like a complete idiot attempting to sing the ever-so-popular song (which I'm sure no one outside of Asia has ever heard of), Michael Learns to Rock's “Take me to Your Heart.” I did it accapella and I forgot the words about 15 seconds into my performance and ran off stage. Happy Teacher's Day to me.

me with Luna's family, on stage

Fast forwarding nine years later, yesterday was marked by another performance, luckily not by me. This Teacher's Day I had the honor of watching one of my students perform. I've been tutoring Luna since she was a little girl, nearing six-years-old. Although she is now not quite 12, she has grown into a pre-teenage girl that nearly resembles a woman. She is taller than me, for sure. But her dedication and maturity rivals that of many grown-ups. In just two years, she seems to have mastered the guzheng (a traditional Chinese instrument similar to a zither). I was stunned that she got to headline her own concert, but the opportunity was well deserved. Luna played beautifully.

Luna with her 6th grade classmates

Sometimes I feel a bit shy to admit that after all these years in China, I still work as a teacher. It seems to be a job that most foreigners grow out of after a year or two. Somehow you haven't really “made it” in China if you don't move on to other things. But yesterday helped me remember why I'm glad to still be a teacher. It's amazing to see the kids I tutor transform, not just in their ability to speak English, but also to see them mature and develop their personality and abilities. I also feel respected and appreciated by many of my students and their parents. Yesterday Luna's mom and dad expressed very heartfelt gratitude toward me. I like to think I played a small part in advancing Luna's education and I hope she remembers me fondly when she's grown up. I know I had a lot of great teachers growing up and I feel very fortunate for that. To all the teacher's out there, Happy (Be-lated) Teacher's Day!

Mid-Autumn Festival 2014

a variety of moon cakes I purchased at 7/11

Another year in China, another Mid-Autumn Festival. For those who live(d) in China, perhaps it needs no introduction, which is good because I actually know relatively little about this holiday. It usually falls in September and it reminds me a bit of Thanksgiving in the US as it revolves almost entirely around eating food with your family. But while Thanksgiving is marked by pumpkin pie, no Mid-Autumn Festival is complete without moon cakes. 

moon cake set
(photo by emmachen via Photobucket)

Chinese people exchange these tiny little cakes, often in beautifully packaged sets, as shown above. They can also be bought individually at any supermarket or cake shop. Every place seems to market and sell their own unique cakes. The first photo shows a variety of moon cakes I picked up at a 7/11 in Beijing. These cakes break from tradition a bit. The animal-shaped ones, which I got for Ping, are particularly special as they are to be eaten cold and are filled with fun flavors like blueberry and kiwi. Traditional moon cakes are round, the outside made of a golden crust and the inside filled with a paste such as red bean or lotus. The majority of moon cakes I've tried have been sweet, though sometimes the inside contains an egg. Initially, I wasn't particularly impressed by moon cakes, but they have grown on me. I like the five nut flavor, which I was told by one of my students is viewed as old-fashioned and only something old people like; I guess I'm not very hip with my moon cake preferences.

one of Uncle Zhang's sons with William

Unfortunately, Ming had to work today. I did get to celebrate the holiday, however, with my mother-in-law's boyfriend, Uncle Zhang, and his family. We had lunch together at Uncle Zhang's house, where my mother-in-law also lives. The food was pretty simple, but included a variety of home cooked dishes (made by Uncle Zhang and my m-i-l) and included foods such as sausage, quail eggs, stir fried green beans with pork, stir fried mushrooms and bok choy, and cold cucumber with tofu. The adults drank either baijiu or beer. The kids had kumquat (somewhat similar to orange) juice. We all took turns toasting each other as Chinese people do when they enjoy a large meal. At the end of the meal, those who weren't yet stuffed, filled themselves up with rice. I still find this practice strange as I can never find room for rice unless it is eaten with the dishes of food! 

Ping and Uncle Zhang's grandkids being silly

Honestly, Chinese holidays are sometimes hard for me. Though it has gotten easier over time, I struggle with understanding the traditions and in the past I didn't much enjoy the food. It can also stir up feelings of homesickness and make me long for American holidays. I will miss Thanksgiving in the US this year, but I am trying to make the most of the festivities in China. Before long, we will be leaving and will be missing things like moon cakes and baijiu toasts.

What about you? Have you experienced cultural holidays different from your own? What did you like or dislike about them?

some of the dishes we ate

Make your own cheese

Home made cheese in salad

 I hail from Wisconsin, known in the US as “America's Dairyland.” We are famous for our spotted cows and all the milk, cheese, and butter they produce. Living in China, I find myself missing one food more than anything else—CHEESE! There are so many different varieties and I love them all. Unfortunately, decent cheese is both rare and expensive in Chengde, which made me get inventive. Why not try and make my own? It turns out it's actually easy to make a basic cheese. The following recipe will allow you to make your own, which resembles an India paneer or perhaps, if you are good at using your imagination, a Greek feta. It's probably best used to top a salad or pasta. If you are need of cheese and have a little time on your hands, give it a try!

Ingredients:

1 liter/quart of whole milk (not skim)

60 mL (¼ c) vinegar

salt and pepper

1. Over medium heat, heat milk in a pot until it's about to boil. Turn off heat.
2. Pour vinegar into milk and stir. Milk will separate into curds (solid) and whey (liquid).
3. Pour entire contents of pot through a clean dish towel or cheese cloth. Fasten cloth shut and hang it for 30 minutes, allowing whey to drip out.
4. Take down cloth and open up to remove curds. Put curds in a pan and then place another pan on top of the cheese. Place a heavy object on top of the second pan. Let sit for 30 minutes. Pressure will remove extra liquid and give you a solid piece of cheese.
5. Remove cheese and cut into cubes. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, if desired.
6. Store in fridge for up to four days.

Curds after hanging for 30 minutes.

Apartment Mishaps

I've lived in my fair share of apartments since moving to China back in 2005. And each apartment, perhaps with the exception of the one we live in now, came with a share of headaches. My first apartment was mine, rent free, thanks to my job teaching at the local high school. The windows were ancient, allowing wind and cold air to whip through during the frigid winter. The garbage shoot in the stairwell was a hangout for neighborhood rats. I left that apartment in the summer, expecting to return to it in the fall after vacation but instead I received an email from my waiban (foreign affairs boss) saying that all my things were being moved into another apartment while I was away as the previous occupant to my flat was returning. I did a mental checklist of all my belongings—anything odd, incriminating, embarrassing? Since I'm a pretty boring person, I quickly realized there had been nothing of the sort left behind. But then a bolt of panic rushed through me as I realized there was 4000 rmb (US$500, at the time) under my desk. I had never managed to open a bank account and that seemed as safe a place as any. Luckily, my boss paid me back the money that had been “lost” in the move.

A year or so later, Ming and I moved to Beijing. I was back in the US when “we” moved. Ming was saddled with the responsibility of finding us a place to live near the school I'd be attending. I figured he'd have no problem, being a 30-year-old man who spoke the local language, a skill I still hadn't managed to acquire. I assumed he'd have the know-how to apartment hunt even in an unfamiliar city. I was mistaken. When I arrived to Beijing, Ming was living in a one room shanty that housed a bed, table, and a very sad looking stool. If I wanted to use the toilet, I'd have to use a public one. You know the kind (if you've been to China), they are without stalls and are little more than holes in a concrete floor. I told him I'd hold my bladder until we found a McDonald's or a new apartment—whichever came first. And we did find a new apartment (and McDonald's) later that day. But it was a shared apartment, with a middle aged lady and her grade school-aged son. While the place was in our budget, it was far out of my comfort level. So we told the agency we needed something else and we settled for an over priced, roach infested palace nearby. Luckily, we upgraded to a cleaner, cheaper place within a few months.

Chengde apartment building

I'm glad the days of dismal apartments are behind me. In fact, I didn't think I'd ever have to rent an apartment again, especially in China. But as it turns out, we are now both owners and renters. In addition to the apartment we are living in (which we own), we are also renting the apartment across the hall from ours. Since it's hard to work from home with a small baby in a 62 square meter (680 square feet) flat, we decided it would be worth the money to rent a place for me to use as my office. While it is worth the money, I'm still trying to decide if it's worth the headache.

Despite being told that the place would come furnished, all we were left with by the former occupants was a bed, air-conditioning unit, and mop. We didn't even get a toilet seat—not sure what is worse, that they took the old one with them or just didn't use one at all. They did leave us a bathroom full of mold and mildew as well as a leaky toilet and sink. Ming and the landlord continue to bicker over who should pay for cleaning and repairs. I decided to take it into my own hands and scrub away at the mold. I'm not sure what steps to take in fixing the leaks. I've pretty much come to terms to the reality that I may be listening to dripping water for the next year.

Of course a new home is always full of surprises. The biggest one of all came yesterday when my friend, Marie, was in our rented space. We neglected to tell her how to get out of the apartment, which can require some finesse as Chinese doors often require an intricate knowledge of which knobs to push or pull while jiggling the key and pressing the door with just the right amount of pressure at a specific angle. Marie had no knowledge of the workings of our door, so she did what any overly confident foreigner would do and assumed she'd be able to figure out how to open and exit the apartment by herself. She was mistaken. With one simple wrong turn, she locked herself in the apartment. That particular lock was most likely rusted from years of sitting unused. After spending over an hour trying to get out of the flat without success, Ming had to jump from the neighboring apartment's balcony into the bedroom window to rescue Marie. After forcing the lock with the handle of a mop, Marie and Ming managed to escape unscathed.

I feel like it's a right of passage into young adulthood (or living in China): overpriced, cramped, and dismal apartments. Please tell me your most nightmarish apartment stories!

To stay or go?

Me with the kids

 Leaving China, the time comes for it sooner or later for most expats and for us it may be quickly approaching. Ming and I had planned to marry and stay in the US back in 2007, but due to a number of issues, we returned to China. I don't regret the decision, but I think in the back of my mind I knew that the PRC wasn't where we'd settle permanently. I figured that we would, in all likelihood, eventually move back to America and it looks like we will be, perhaps as soon as next summer.

Some people ask why we want to move back while others ask why we didn't move back sooner. Recently, when I've been asked such questions by a number of Chinese friends and acquaintances; I've answered openly and honestly. I have a number of concerns and most Chinese people I talk to share in them. While venting frustrations about life in China is inevitable for most of us living here, I don't like nor want to bash China. This post is meant to be an honest reflection on our reasons for wanting to return to the US and not meant to be about why China sucks and why the US is awesome.

Living anywhere comes with pros and cons. There are certainly a lot of great things about living in China—a rich language and culture, myriad opportunities for travel, little violent crime, and the ease of making friends. For better or worse, as a foreigner, I also get to live a more relaxed and “sheltered” life compared to locals. Many Chinese people expect less out of me than they might from each other and I sometimes receive special treatment and attention simply for being foreign. Recently, an elderly lady tried you yield her seat to me on the bus. I was afraid she had mistaken me for being pregnant (at three months postpartum, the horror!) but Ming explained she was most likely trying to show kindness to a “visitor.” For the most part, I have indeed been very fortunate in my life here. In fact, I might even be willing to stay forever, but with two kids I want what is best for them more what is good for me. In the end, I think life in the US would be better for them, mostly due to the following:

The Environment. Before I came to China I didn't really know what smog was. Really, I didn't. It seems unbelievable now as many of my days are filled with it—sometimes I even have to break out a face mask. I spent most of my time growing up in small town America and unless it was raining, the sky was usually blue. The air quality in most of China is alarming bad. I've heard claims that breathing the air in large cities is no different than smoking two packs of cigarettes a day. I don't know if there's truth to such claims, but having lived two years choking on the air and exhaust fumes in Beijing, I just might believe it. Smog aside, I want my kids to have a childhood like a did. . . simple things like running through the yard with bare feet, jumping in puddles, and make snow angels.

Food Safety. This topic is not for the faint of heart. Since living in China I've heard numerous gut-wrenching stories regarding unsafe food, to name a few: rat meat disguised as lamb, melamine-tainted pet food and infant formula, dyed watermelons, and gutter oil. I used to brush these stories off, but once I became pregnant I was more conscientious about what I ate. Gone are the days of eating street food and at cheap restaurants. I clean meat, veggies, and fruits with great care. But I am a realist, I know I'm still ingesting plenty of dirt, chemicals, and toxins. I also know America doesn't have a perfect record when it comes to food safety, but at least there I don't have to worry about my dog or baby dying from melamine poisoning. Unfortunately, this is a real fear many people have to live with, such a great fear that some Chinese have taken to smuggling infant formula from neighboring Hong Kong.

Want the best for this little guy.

Education. Having worked both worked in a Chinese high school and with Chinese kids of all ages, I know the rigors of being a student in China. Kids here have it tough compared to their American counterparts. Chinese students are packed 60-70 deep in a very basic classroom, often without out heat. Homework, especially for high school students, piles mountain high. Everyone, pretty much from birth, has their eye on the final prize—acing the gao kao (college entrance exams) so that they can apply to a good university which will ultimately lead to a stable and secure job. I like the idea of kids having goals and working hard, but I don't want my children to sacrifice the bulk of their childhoods and schooling experience in an attempt to do well on a single exam. Instead, I'd like to see things like after school sports, part-time jobs, and prom in their futures.

Family. I have rarely felt homesick. . . then William came along. I long for days spent with family and friends in Wisconsin. But what about Ming's family? Well, our main concern is his mom, but she can easily come visit us for a few months once or twice yearly. A flight to China is probably not in the cards for my family and anyways, it's much more economical for me to go back and visit them myself. But these days those once a year visits don't seem like enough.

What about you? For those of you who are living or have lived abroad, what factors have greatest influenced your decisions to stay or go?

Recipe: Cake without the Bake

Evidently, there's a lot you can do with a rice cooker. In celebration of this wonderful cooking device, I've decided to repost a recipe I wrote for my Chinese language blog. You can also find a bilingual version from my guest post on Chinese Reading Practice. I think it's a good recipe if you find yourself living in Asia without an oven, as some of us do. You can try making a cake with your rice cooker. Be warned—results will vary. Each rice cooker is a little different. But why not satisfy your inner sweet tooth and give it a try? My cake was a bit unsightly, but tasted delicious. . . and isn't that all that matters anyway? As an added bonus, you should be able to find all the ingredients locally if you omit the vanilla.

I went a few years in China without an oven because I thought I wouldn't be here long enough to justify the expense of one. Once we moved back to Chengde, in 2008, I decided to buy a little convection oven for about 400 RMB (about US$70). It's been one of the best purchases I've made, in my whole life. I've learned how to make many different food from scratch. Since it isn't always easy to find everything I need in Chengde, I have gotten pretty creative with substituting ingredients. I am a big fan of taobao (more or less the Chinese version of eBay) as well because I can find pretty much anything and everything I need on there. I have bought cocoa powder, cream cheese and whipping cream online—all with great success.

I will try to post some more recipes in the future, both western and Chinese. Since the baby was born I don't have as much time to piddle around in the kitchen making western food from scratch (my days of rolling my own tortillas and attempting homemade gnocchi are now behind me). I've now turned to fine-tuning my knowledge of cooking Chinese. Ming taught me some basics years ago and I was decent at making several standard dishes, but now I'm venturing out and experimenting a lot more. Cooking Chinese food is a lot of fun and pretty easy once you understand the flavors. Maybe you'd be interested in making some? Stay tuned!

Upside Down Cake (in a rice cooker)

Servings: 8

Ingredients:

250 g (1 cup) fruit, such as strawberries, bananas or mangoes

115 g (½ cup) softened butter or 180 ml (3/8 cup) oil*

180 g (¾ cup) white sugar

2 eggs

180 ml (3/8 cup) milk

5 ml (1 teaspoon) vanilla extract** optional

125 g (1 cup) flour***

5 g (1 teaspoon) baking soda (小苏打, xiǎo sūdǎ in Chinese)

pinch of salt

Directions:

1. Mash fruit in a bowl, using a fork. I used strawberries and mangos, but feel free to experiment!
2. Grease the bottom of your rice cooker with oil or butter.
3. Spread fruit in bottom of greased rice cooker.
4. In a bowl, mix together flour, baking soda, and salt.
5. In a second bowl, cream butter (or oil) with sugar. Beat in eggs, one at a time. Add vanilla extract and milk and mix.
6. Add dry mixture into wet mixture. Stir until combined.
7. Pour batter into rice cooker.
8. Close cooker and press 'cook' button. The cake will probably take about 15 minutes to cook but the 'cook' button will change to 'keep' before that. Just let it stay on 'keep' for a few minutes and then hit 'cook' again. Repeat if needed.
9. Check cake with toothpick; it should come out clean.
10. Let cool for 10 minutes. When done, loosen cake from sides of rice cooker with a plastic or wooden spoon (or spatula).
11. Flip onto plate and serve. Top with more fresh fruit if desired.

*I prefer sunflower and olive blend, but vegetable or canola should work well. I don't recommend peanut as the flavor is quite nutty. Some olive oils also have a very strong flavor.

**You can find vanilla on taobao and in some special supermarkets in China.

***You can use all-purpose, self-rising, or even dumpling flour.

The Intricacies of Chinese Gift-Giving

Since the birth of William, we've received an endless stream of (mostly monetary) gifts from Chinese family, friends, clients, and co-workers. I have also been giving baby clothes and toys from my closest friends and family, most of them westerners. While the Chinese way may seem more practical, it comes with it's fair share of headaches. It's not as simple as cashing a check and writing a thank you note, as I would normally do in the US. The longer I've lived in China, the more I've learned about the intricacies and balancing act of giving gifts. Some aspects one must consider:

My m-i-l with her bf on her 60th birthday.

The occasion. Chinese give gifts for many occasions, although I didn't realize this at first because many gifts are giving in the form of cash or, in recent years, a gift card. Ming would just hand out cash as needed, with me paying little attention when he explained why. Naturally, we give gifts to couples getting married as well as to children for Chinese New Year, but there are many other times when a cash gift may be expected, such as for an illness (hospital stay) or death (funeral). Surprisingly, I find that birthdays usually don't require too much extravagance, with the exception of certain milestones. Last year, Ming's mom turned 60 and we invited all her relatives out for dinner and everyone gave her cash gifts; this year, at 61, her birthday went mostly unnoticed.

The location. China is a big country with different customs throughout. Not only that, since there are such large differences in development and socioeconomics, trends in gift-giving vary. What is appropriate in Shanghai is completely different from what would be given in rural Guangdong. In Chengde, which is a smallish (population: 400,000) city in Hebei, the standard for giving cash is generally 200 RMB (US$30) for acquaintances and co-workers, 500 RMB (UD$80) for family and close friends. I've heard that in larger cities, 500 RMB is often the minimum and I'm sure in the countryside people may give 100 RMB or perhaps less.

The relation. I probably should have listed this first, as it is arguable the most important point. When and how much a giver gives depends on the relationship with the receiver. As mentioned before, 200 or 500 RMB is the current standard gift amount where I live. But that's really just the tip of the iceberg. If you are invited to your boss's daughter's wedding, for example, you'd probably want to give more, much more, if possible. If you are invited to a friend's wedding who's father has significant pull in the city government, consider giving generously. Also, parents will give extremely large amounts to their children for weddings and the birth of a child (most likely bonus cash if said child is a son). The parents of the groom lay out fat stacks—I think Ming's mom gave of a significant chunk of her own savings, something like 30,000 RMB (US$5,000), when we got married several years ago. At Ming's (male) cousin's engagement party last year, his aunt and uncle handed over 10,000 RMB to the bride-to-be's parents like it was nothing (for them, it wasn't nothing).

Ming's uncle with his cousin and his bride-to-be.

Superstition. When giving cash, you must be careful about the amount; 250 RMB is inappropriate because it means “stupid,” though I'm still trying to figure out why. Chinese people believe six and eight to be particularly lucky, so a gift of 600 or 800 RMB (US$100 or $130) is particularly welcome. Furthermore, cash is generally given in a red envelop (红包, hóngbāo), red being the most auspicious color in China. Giving gifts in amount of four is often taboo because the word for four in Chinese is a homophone for the word death. When giving other gifts, you must also be careful of selection. Clocks are unlucky because to give a clock (送钟, sòng zhōng) sounds like the words for “bury a parent” (送终, sòngzhōng). Books are a poor choice, especially given to those engaged in business, as the Chinese word for book (书, shū) is a homophone for the word “loss” (输, shū). The list goes on, but you get the point.

Clearly, giving gifts here is a rather complicated matter and the end result is often a carefully calculated stack of lifeless 100 renminbi notes. It's unfortunate, because I relish gift-giving. I find cash impersonal and prefer to hunt down that perfect gift. To me, there are few things in life more satisfying than watching a person open a present and see the look of delight on her face. But in China, even this act is deemed unacceptable, as it's considered impolite to open gifts in front of the giver. Ah, well. I'm sure I have plenty of birthdays and Christmases in the US in my future during which I can satisfy my inner Santa Claus.

Mom's 60th birthday dinner.

Split seamed pants and trash cans: Potty training a newborn in China

Warning: In case the title didn't clue you in, this post is full of toilet talk!

As I've written in previous posts, there are many differences in how Chinese and American people care for infants. One huge difference is in toilet training. In the U.S., most parents start potty training around age two or even three. These days, most American doctors tell parents not too push their children too hard and to wait for the child to show signs of being ready to toilet train. In China, many families start training the baby to use the toilet nearly from day one. I think William was four days old when Ming's mom first started teaching him to pee in the garbage can (in Chinese, “baba” 把把).

When I try to explain this to my family back home, it's hard for them to suspend their disbelief. How can you potty train a newborn? Can you actually potty train a newborn? Well, the answer is somewhat complicated. William is nowhere near being ready to use a toilet, obviously, as he can't even sit up on his own. But I guess we are laying the foundation for him to be able to do it much earlier than most American children. Ming's mom claims that he should be able to around age one, though he may need a diaper during the night until age two.

Who needs these when you have
a garbage can?

Photo via Taobao.com

How does one teach a baby to go potty in a garbage can? It's pretty simple. You just hold him over the garbage, especially when he first wakes (when he is most likely to need to go). You can whistle while you do it, which helps the baby associate the sound with using the toilet. Eventually, he develops the habit and will try to go potty when you hold him in position over the trash—in fact, William already does this at four months old.

I'm sure you still have a lot of questions. Is it really worth doing? Does he still wet his diaper? Is it healthy? Isn't it tiring? What about when he is out of the house?

As for me, I'm a bit lazy and this is a practice that I still find a bit strange. I basically go along with it to appease my mother-in-law. When I'm alone with the baby, I normally don't hold him over the trash. I do see the value in this practice as it will eventually get him out of diapers and much sooner than many children. But it's a lot of work and also a bit unhygienic because not only do we (okay, mostly m-i-l) “baba” the baby, but he is often in cloth diapers or no diapers at all. It's a lot of mess. Moreover, I'm not sure if this practice is good for the baby. I read an article in Chinese stating that holding young babies in such a position (over the trash) is not good for their developing spines. Though interestingly enough, this early toilet training trend isn't popular just among Chinese, it is also practice in other countries. Even in the U.S., it is a movement which in parenting circles is known as “elimination communication.” There is even a few books about how to do it!

As for diapers, William is definitely still using them and will wet them if he isn't held over the garbage at regular intervals. When we take him out of the house, we always put him in a diaper. Many Chinese will allow their children to run around diaperless, sporting split seamed pants in which they can pop a squat and use the world as their toilet. A lot of foreigners are shocked and even disgusted by this practice. I generally don't mind it, as I don't see how it's that much worse than people who allow their dogs to do their business wherever. What I don't like, however, is when people allow their kids to pee and poop freely indoors (like on the chairs in McDonald's, as I've witnessed) or on people (I got soaked by a toddler on Beijing subway without so much as an apology). There have been countless reports on Chinese social media about Chinese abroad causing an uproar for allowing their kids to no. 1 and no. 2 in public places such as on airplanes, subways, and while waiting in long lines for the bathroom.

As for me, the verdict is still out. I'm not sure if I'll ever be a firm believer in baba-ing or not. I guess I'll have a stronger opinion if and when I start reaping it's benefits—when William is off the diap.

100 Days (and just one hospital visit)

Due to a very busy summer, I haven't been posting regularly. With summer vacation wrapping up in the next two weeks, I will try to make a better habit of posting.

Even before my pregnancy, I had a acquired a fair amount of time spent in Chinese hospitals. I'd assumed that after having the baby I'd be routinely gaining more experience in the doctor's office, but that hasn't been the case. Just another way in which life in China varies from that in America.

I figured that both the baby and I would be needing check-ups. In the States, women see the doctor in the weeks following birth for their post-natal check-up. I was told that I don't need to visit the doctor unless I am suffering from a particular problem. Likewise, a Chinese baby may not see the doctor until he is ill, whereas an American baby would go in every several weeks as a newborn, steadily tapering off to every few months during later infancy. William is now four months and has only seen the doctor once, to have some “work done” on his belly button (the umbilical cord wasn't detaching). He also sees a nurse once a month to have his vaccinations.

Ah, vaccinations—these seem to be the new hot button issue among parenting circles in the U.S. More and more parents are deciding to forgo vaccinations for their children. In China, the threat of many diseases is still very real. I see adults who suffer from polio fairly regularly, not to mention, my own mother struggled with the disease, enduring multiple surgeries as a child. Moreover, in Chengde, there have been recent outbreaks of both measles and mumps. For me, the benefits of vaccinations far outweigh any perceived risks. Furthermore, I don't think opting out of vaccines is an option in China. My understanding is that it is a requirement. In any case, William goes out for his monthly shots. Until quite recently, that was the only time he was “allowed” out of the house.

In late July, William finally reached 100 days (百天), which is a huge milestone in China. Before this time, infants are not allowed out of the home except to visit the doctor. They believe babies are still too weak and can easily catch cold or an illness. In celebration of William's One Hundred Days, we took him for a photo shot. This is very popular among families these days. Parents will do different things to celebrate their child's 100 days, including taking photos, buying a cake, and having a dinner party. For us, most of the celebrating will be put on hold until William's first birthday.  

Generation Gap

In our relationship, Ming and I face many cultural differences. These differences have become more strikingly clear as we've journeyed through pregnancy, post-partum, and parenting. I've recently come to realize, however, that many of our differences are due to a generational gap.

In America, I am somewhere on the cusp of Generation Y and the Millennials. I was fortunate to grow up during a time of fast technological advance and great economic prosperity. Sometimes I wonder how much this has shaped the person I have become. I think many Chinese view me as naïve—I don't particularly care about money and I am fairly trusting of others. I value happiness about all else. I think these traits aren't common among the Chinese and this holds especially true for people of Ming's generation. Ming came of age during a rather unstable period of ongoing change in China. The effects of which are apparent in both his personality and values.

In China, Ming is considered a qī líng hòu (七零后), post-70's generation, while I, if Chinese, would fall into the category of a bā líng hòu (八零后), post-80's generation. Here, you are labeled according to the decade during which you were born and due to the rapid change in China's modern history, the characteristics and experiences of those born within each decade are considerably different. I recently listened to an interesting podcast on Chinesepod that described some of these differences.

The host of the show, Jenny Zhu, described her experience growing up in the 80's and early 90's. Jenny was born the same year as I, so it was interesting to hear what life was like growing up in China for someone my age. She also had a guest born in the early 70's and one born in 1990. The post-70's generation woman could remember a childhood during China's Cultural Revolution when slogans were chanted in the street and people were sent away to “reeducation camp.” Ming was born in the final year of the Cultural Revolution, the year that Mao Zedong died. He didn't experience the same turmoil as someone born several years earlier, but he did grow up during a time when food was bought with ration tickets and a typical monthly salary was 40 RMB (US$7) per month. As a child, he didn't have a refrigerator or a television; there was no indoor plumbing. These circumstances were typical for the vast majority of families at the time.

Due to the hardships and uncertainty they had growing up, many post-70's Chinese are incredibly hardworking and concerned about money. They are practical but also entrepreneurial. Compared to the emerging generations (post-90's and -00's), they are collectivists who care very much about saving face as well as their parents' approval. Of course, these are generalizations, but I see many of these characteristics in Ming and even my students' parents, most of whom where born in the late 60's or the 1970's.

There are times I feel very frustrated by Ming's values toward work and money. Sometimes I think he regards them higher than happiness, family, or friendship—the things I hold most dear. I know I need to be more sensitive and understanding, because these values are in many ways a result of the time he grew up in. They are not so much due to the fact that he is Chinese, but due to him being a Chinese who was born in the 1970's. 

Blackouts and Water Cuts

Remember being little and the excitement and fear that came with a thunderstorm? First came the violent rain thrashing down on the roof. Then, you awaited that blood curdling clap of thunder that shook the walls of the house. And finally, if you were really lucky, the lights flickered and the power went out. Dad let slip a string of curse words as mom ran around looking for candles and flashlights.

I loved those kinds of storms. While they were frightening, a temporary blackout was a welcomed novelty. Getting by for a few hours (or sometimes just a few minutes) without electricity let me imagine myself living in olden times or exotic locales. Sitting around lit candles with my parents brought out the romantic in me, even as a 7-year-old.

Having lived and traveled in Asia for nearly a decade, I've experienced more power and water cuts than most modern-day Americans would experience in a lifetime. When I first came to China, I found the frequent power cuts somewhat charming. They inevitably happened when I was out to dinner and the waitresses would scurry around, placing a candle on eat table. Everyone would continue their meal over candlelight. It was even more romantic than those candlelit storms I spent with my mom and dad.

These days, however, the cuts fail to amuse me, they are particularly cumbersome having children and working from home. I can now appreciate why my parents cursed such occurrences. Lately, the electricity has gone off at the most inopportune times—when I'm teaching an evening class or when Ping has a mountain of homework. Even worse than the power cuts, which are becoming more and more seldom, are the frequent water cuts. Every time they happen, my heart sinks. How long will the water be off? The longest we once went was 36 hours. I dread another chance at a day and a half without water and my fear is further compounded at the thought of it while taking care of an infant.

What's it like without running water? Well, let us ponder all the things we can't easily do without water. Obviously we need water to drink, though that can easily be solved by running down to the convenience store and buying a 5 liter jug of mineral water. What is problematic is preparing meals. Food and dishes need to be washed, as do our hands. Showers are, of course, out of the question, although I can cope with a day or two without a shower. Laundry, too, has too be put off.

The biggest inconvenience that comes with a water cut, and one that may not first come to mind, is flushing the toilet. Without water, there is no way to flush. We must either use the public toilet outside our apartment or fill buckets outside at the nearest working outdoor water source. While I am pretty open minded about toilets, but going on smell alone, I know the nearby public toilet should only be used in the most dire of situations. . . such as being forced to at knife point. Needless to say, I've yet to summon the courage to enter it. So when the water stops for any significant amount of time, Ming finds various kettles, pots, and buckets to fill for our daily activities.

The past week there have already been a few water cuts. They've been making me nervous, but luckily none have lasted more than a couple hours and the water has always returned around meal time. I hope our luck doesn't run out, as I hate to have to run around looking for a decent source of water on top of washing baby clothes and sterilizing bottles. This is just another one of the challenges and uncertainties of living life in China.

Revisiting The Woes of Parenting: Myth or Fact Revealed

From March 19, 2014, The Woes of Parenting, I wrote down some of my worries about parenting, particularly mothering a baby. I didn't know if all the venting about taking care of kids that mothers do online would ring true for me. Now that I'm approaching the two month mark of being a mommy, I feel like I have some authority on the topic. Well, maybe not an authority. This is the truth as I see it, in my experience. Every person and her situation is different, not to mention every baby is different. 

Despite my constant complaining about dealing with cultural differences, my circumstances have been pretty ideal. William is a “good” baby, in the sense that he cries rarely and sleeps well. I also have lots of help from my husband and mother-in-law plus Ping pitches in too! I have pleasantly surprised to find that, thus far, many of my concerns were unfounded. Here's what I've discovered:

1. I'll never sleep again. Myth. I relish sleep. In fact, I have never even pulled an “all nighter.” I was, quite frankly, terrified about how an infant would affect my sleep. I am a disorientated monster when I get six or less hours a night. I have been incredibly fortunate that William has been a great sleeper, especially at night, since birth. I had one really rough night when Ming was out of town and William didn't really sleep, but I was able to take a very long nap the next day when Ming's mom came over. I am averaging eight hours or more of (somewhat broken) sleep every day.

2. I'll never have sex again. Myth. I won't go in to details, but I think “less frequently” is more in line with reality. Obviously “never” is a bit of an overstatement.

3. I'll never stop worrying. Myth. It's official, I'm not much of a worrier. If motherhood hasn't made me one, I think I can say with confidence that it's true. Ming does enough worrying for the both of us.

4. I'll fail to change clothes for days, perhaps weeks, at a time. I won't find time to shower. Myth. Well, it's no better or worse than it was before. China brings out the lazy in me. Wearing a new outfit every day is just a waste—baby or not.

5. I'll constantly be covered in spit up, barf, pee, and/or poop. (Somewhat) Fact. I am quite often showered in spit up and from time to time breast milk. I try to dodge the pee and poop.

6. I won't love my dog anymore. Myth. I still love Fei Fei, but there isn't as much time for her. I actually feel pretty bad for the pup, as she is treated as a complete nuisance by the woman who used to adore her (Ming's mom). Not to mention, when he first came home, the baby made Fei Fei extremely nervous, but she seems to be adjusting now.

7. I'll finally understand love. Myth. I don't think my concept of love has changed. Having a baby has changed how I view some things and has helped me better understand other, but love isn't one of them.

8. I'll feel guilty pretty much constantly. (Somewhat) Fact. While I'm not a big worrier, I am guilty of often feeling guilty. I hate it. I feel bad when anyone takes care of William other than me. I feel even worse leaving to go to work. I don't know why, but I have the overwhelming sense that he is my responsibility and my responsibility alone.

9. My time will never be my own. (Somewhat) Myth.  I don't have much time to do some of the things I used to do, like studying Chinese, but I still try to take at least 30 minutes a day to go for a walk or a trip to the store on my own or with Ming or Ping. I have lots of time to watch TV or reading crap online (good activities while feeding a baby). I think eventually I'll have more time for myself when William is on a schedule and sleeps longer at night.

My Addictions

Before William's birth, I had two addictions. Can you guess? I'm willing to bet you share in at least one of my vices. . .

Chocolate and coffee. Separate or together (few things in life beat a mocha), I keep returning to my two dark masters.

Of all the things one can be addicted to, I believe these two are among the more innocuous. During pregnancy, however, many women at some point question whether some of their rather harmless habits may be negatively affecting their baby. I know I did.

The safety of drinking coffee during pregnancy has been somewhat up for debate. Until recently, I think it was widely believed that consumption of caffeine during could be harmful to the developing fetus and many women chose to forgo it. These days, most pregnancy literature, as well as most American doctors, agree that a cup of coffee or a few cans of Coke are fine (it's generally recommended to keep caffeine consumption below 200 mg/day during pregnancy).

In China, of course, beliefs are different. My daily espresso caused many comments and looks of disapproval, mostly from my husband. Once I started showing, I was too embarrassed to order my own cup of joe at McDonald's. . . . I had friends do it for me. Towards the end of my pregnancy, I decided to give up coffee altogether. I wanted to be more or less caffeine free for at least a few weeks after the baby was born. For one, I didn't want to deal with withdrawal symptoms after giving birth, and secondly, breastfeed newborns can be sensitive to caffeine (although most things I read said it is still okay if kept under 300 mg/day as long as the baby shows no signs of ill effect).

While I did my one month confinement, I was a good girl. I didn't drink coffee. I didn't eat chocolate. But in the past couple weeks I've started reintroducing them into my diet. I allow myself one (decaf!!) espresso a day and 25 g (less than an ounce) of chocolate. These are my indulgences, but they have become the biggest point of contention between Ming and I since William's birth. I knew we'd have differences in opinion on how to raise our son, as we certainly have plenty on how to raise Ping, but I never suspected my diet would be under such intense scrutiny.

Of course, this was an issue I mentioned during one month confinement. Fine, I was expected to eat a rather strict diet while recovering from giving birth and breastfeeding a newborn. But as William grows, I figured some of the rules would be lifted. Am I really expected to drink hot water until he is fully weened? (Did I mention it was over 90 degrees F last week?). Must I continue to heat up all fruit in the microwave? And horror of all horrors, no chocolate or (decaf!!) coffee for a year?

Nearly every time the baby has trouble falling to sleep, I face cross examination. I always buckle under the pressure.

“Did you have coffee today?” Ming demands.

“Um, yeeessss. It was decaf,” I reply hostilely.

“What about chocolate? You had chocolate, didn't you?!” he accuses, knowing full-well the answer.

“Yes, a little. I have chocolate everyday! I had it yesterday and the baby slept fine!” I declare defensively.

I am then given a lecture on how selfish I am. After which I threaten to give up breastfeeding if such accusations don't stop. Well, they haven't stopped and I haven't given up breastfeeding.

I suppose the mature thing to do would be to just give up chocolate and coffee. But the thought of giving it up for a year when I truly believe it is harmless seems ridiculous. Right now the best thing to do seems to indulge in secret, which means having a secret stash of chocolate and be sure to discard of any wrappers away from the scene of the crime. Coffee is more tricky. I may reserve that treat for times when I am left home alone (not too often) and can turn on my espresso maker without notice.