When in Rome. . .

. . . do as the Romans do?

William is over a week old, though in some ways it seems like a lifetime ago that he was born. I've been through many changes in the past week and also so many challenges. The greatest challenge has not been taking care of an infant, but managing the cultural differences that come with taking care of an infant. The Chinese approach to infant care, breastfeeding, and a mother's recovery is vastly different from that in the U.S. I am trying to keep an open mind. Ming's mom keeps reminding me, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do” or “入乡随俗” (rùxiāngsuísú) as the Chinese say. I have an idiom to respond: That's easier said than done (说起来容易,做起来难; Shuō qǐlái róngyì, zuò qǐlái nán).

Eyes are open!

As I mentioned before, after giving birth, Chinese women adhere to a strict one month confinement (坐月子zuò yuè zi). Since I had a c-section, I don't have to follow confinement rules as strictly as women who give birth vaginally. This really is a load off, as I don't think I would survive a month bed ridden during which I was forbidden to read, watch TV, or surf the internet. Despite my more lax lock down, the restrictions still seem endless. And ridiculous. I can't eat or drink anything cold and ideally not even at room temperature. This means to microwaving everything from milk for my cereal (which is disgusting) to bananas (actually not too bad). I shouldn't consume salt because it leads to blisters on the baby's lips. I'm forbidden from crying because it will dry up my milk. Obviously, I shouldn't go outside for the month, though I am allowed for the sole purpose of visiting the doctor.

Despite it all, I'm trying to stay positive. It's not easy though; I totally lost my cool the other night. It was mentioned, for the third or forth time, that the baby's watery bowel movements could only be attributed to my drinking bottled water while in the hospital. When I tried to argue that nearly all American women drink room temperature or even (the horror) cold beverage while nursing, my rationale was brushed away. After all, I'm in China, I should do as the Chinese do.  

sleepy William

William's Birth: A Lesson in Letting Go

William Gerald Zhao born 4/16/14

It's been four days since William's birth, since then and even long before it's been a process of letting go—letting go of expectations and also realizing I am no longer in control. Thankfully, living in China for this long has prepared me a bit, so it's a lesson that has not been that painfully learned.

Though nervous about going through labor naturally, I had come to embrace the idea. I wanted to attempt it at the very least. Chinese women seemed surprised by this. Why even subject yourself to a vaginal birth when c-sections are available? A fair enough argument, I suppose, but I felt like trying things the way nature intended. Nothing against c-sections, really, as that's how I made my way into this world, but it wasn't what I wanted. But it is what I got. I suppose I'm not that surprised; I had read words of caution online, that labor and delivery pretty much never goes as you expect them to, such was the case.

Ming's mom, Ping, and William in the
hospital

I thought something might not be quite right last Monday night and Tuesday morning I voiced my concerns to Ming. We went to the doctor Tuesday afternoon and she confirmed what I was beginning to fear—I was leaking amniotic fluid. My water didn't burst, but had slowly dripped until there was hardly any left. Not only that, the baby wasn't positioned well for a vaginal birth. Then it came, her unsurprising recommendation: c-section. I felt a wave of disappointment rush over me, but after it came a sense of relief. He was going to be born and it would be soon. The waiting was over.

Doctor Xin told me I'd have to check-in to the hospital at eight o'clock the following morning. She would let me decide if I wanted to attempt an induction, but advised against it. I said I'd think it over, though I already knew I would be having a c-section. I wasn't going to fight for the labor and delivery I had wanted; I was going to heed her advice.

Tuesday night was a flurry of last minute preparations, emails, and phone calls. There would likely be no mad dash to the hospital, no apartment left in disarray, no friends and family back home wondering if the time had come. This was a fairly calm, cool, and collected approach to having a baby. And so it was, the next day I walked (waddled) to the hospital, solemnly agreed to surgery, and signed the paperwork. I was in the operating room by ten, with Ming, in scrubs, as my “translator.”

But even the c-section did not go as expected. It was no wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am procedure. The epidural didn't take well and I was feeling too much; there were several moments of excruciating pain. I moaned in Chinese, “teng, teng” (“It hurts, it hurts”) while Ming provided his unnecessary translation of “she says it hurts!” The nurse administered more drugs and I slipped into a hallucination of colors, shapes, and an overwhelming sense of dying that was narrated by the chatter of Chinese surgeons. In a space of time that felt like a moment, I regained consciousness and looked over to see Ming. “Is the baby here? Is he okay?” I asked groggily. “He's here! Look!” Ming put him in my face but all I could see was a peachy-colored blur. That was okay. He was here. He was healthy. I wasn't, in fact, dying. The time: nearly 11:30 am. His time of birth? Well, that I still haven't quite determined.

I was brought back to my room where I spent nearly two days lying flat in bed, unable to hold or even feed my baby boy. Everything was done around me, for him, and for me. And there was nothing I could do to change that. I watched in horror as they fed him water, scoffed at his “complicated” American baby clothes (that were replaced by their more practical Chinese counterparts), and pushed aside my carefully packed disposable diapers, as well as the cloth ones (Ming's mom opted for slices of old shirts instead). I was ordered not to consume anything cold or sweet or salty. I was told what to do for reasons I still don't understand and I obeyed, defying Ming's perception of me as being “so America.” In other words, I was no longer headstrong and overly confident in my own judgement, adamant about making my own decisions. Somehow, that part of me had slowly slipped away. Sometimes I wonder if it makes me somehow weaker or maybe it just makes me more mature. I guess it doesn't matter. My boy and I are both home and healthy, that's what really matters.

Double Digits: The Big One-Oh

Ming and Ping outside our apartment,
before heading to dinner 

Ming and I (about 38 weeks pregnant)

This past Saturday was Tomb Sweeping Day, a day in which Chinese honor the dead by cleaning their tombs and leaving offerings. Ming visited his father's grave, first sweeping it and then leaving behind cigarettes, alcohol, and some snacks.

In honor of the holiday, many people enjoyed a three-day weekend. Most students had off on Monday. Since Ping's 10th birthday falls on Friday this year, we decided to celebrate a little early. Ping wanted to go out to eat for her big day. We convinced her to try something new, rather than her old fallback, KFC. So we wound up at Origus, a (pretty awful) Western-style buffet that can be found throughout China. A branch of the chain was just opened in Chengde. Though the adults weren't too impressed with the food, (honestly, KFC would have been much preferable) Ping seemed to enjoy herself. She was probably even happier to come home to a small pile of presents and a homemade cheesecake.

Birthdays in China don't seem to be surrounded with the same amount of hoopla that they are in the U.S. Going out to dinner and having a simple store-bought birthday cake has become somewhat standard in China over the past several years, but birthday parties aren't yet all that common, at least among Chinese people I know. When Ming was young, he didn't get anything for his birthday, as it just wasn't customary to give presents and birthday cakes weren't yet a trend. Moreover, these were luxuries few people could afford. These days, there are sometimes gifts, but my understanding is they are pretty simple. Kids get showered with money and new clothes over Chinese New Year, not so much for birthdays. Ping is pretty lucky because she gets some stuff for Christmas, New Year's, and her birthday. Being in a mixed family sure has its benefits!

out to eat at Origus

Ping with her presents

38 weeks

Edvard Munch "The Scream"

I went to see the doctor again yesterday and for the first time, I was gripped by fear. This is really going to happen and it's going to happen very soon. Her prediction: late next week. My panic was elevated when I stumbled upon the delivery room, which seemed downright medieval compared to those in the U.S. Not only that, I was informed that epidurals aren't standard procedure at the hospital where I will be giving birth. I would, most likely, be doing this al natural. The thought of which didn't scare me so much before when I knew it was a possibility, but downright terrifies me now that I know it's a high probability. The doctor and Ming's mother saw the look in my eyes and tried to assuage my terror.

“You'll be fine. Your baby is a normal size and in the right position. You have wide hips—much better off than Chinese women! What's to worry about? If your progresses very slowly or you really can't manage the pain, you can opt for the epidural,” the doctor reassured me.

I didn't feel very reassured. I felt like I had something to prove, if not to them, then to myself. Why was something they found completely normal so scary to me? In America, having a medicated birth is common practice, to the point that many people feel you'd be stupid not to have some kind of drugs. While I always tried to remain open to the idea of going natural, it was more something I envisioned as a nice idea for someone else, rather than for myself.

With this new reality now facing me, I felt, for the first time, a little resentful about being a woman. I always tried to think of pregnancy and birth as a gift, something only a woman can experience and truly appreciate. A part of me used to pity men, because they can just stand by as helpless spectators to this event. Now, all of a sudden, being a spectator sounded preferable to being an active participant.

But I suppose none of this really matters. The most important thing is trying to manage my fear which I truly believe is a greater obstacle to me than the pain I will experience. Not to mention, time is going so fast, no matter what I think or fear now, this will all be a distant memory in a couple week's (or perhaps day's) time.  

What are you having?

Top Secret information obtained in the U.S.

What's the first question people ask when they find out that you're pregnant? The first may very well be, “How far along are you?” But any proceeding questions, in my experience, depend on what

country you're in. In America, it's usually, “Do you know what you're having?” with “Was this planned?” coming in at a distant third. In China, people never ask you about the sex of the baby, as couples aren't (suppose to be) told. Due to a cultural preference for boys and the added pressure of the One Child Policy, selective abortion became a huge problem in China once ultrasounds become popular. These days, doctors are (technically) forbidden from disclosing the sex of fetus. A kind reminder for patients not to ask is also posted outside the ultrasound room. I have heard of foreigners who told the sex, or discretely given a piece of blue or pink candy. Ming and I were under the impression that we would not be told, though I had the chance to satisfy my curiosity while in the U.S.

As for the third question, the ever-so-awkward, “Was this planned?”, I can't imagine being asked this by a Chinese person. The question did pop up a few times when announcing my pregnancy to close friends and family members back home. In the U.S., unplanned pregnancies are becoming the norm, as well as drastically increasing among single women. The situation in China is vastly different, as it is hard to get official documentation for your child if s/he is born out-of-wedlock. Couples are also required to obtain a special certificate, more-or-less granting them permission to procreate (valid for two years!), before becoming pregnant. Furthermore, it still seems to be somewhat rare for a Chinese couple to choose to be child-free. I'm under the impression that most pregnancies in China are planned, or at the very least, it is best to pretend they are. In any case, it would be very inappropriate to ask if a pregnancy was an “oops.”

So what do Chinese people tend to ask pregnant women? The most common question, the question I've nearly exclusively been asked, is: “Are you having a vaginal delivery or C-section?” While many personal issues suddenly seem fair game to the general public once you are pregnant, this still strikes me as a somewhat invasive question, especially from an acquaintance or stranger. Luckily, after having lived in China this long, I'm not much bothered by probing personal questions. I let everyone who asks know what my plans are.

A "black" place?

But why is this anyone's business? Why is this question on the forefront of people's minds? After becoming pregnant, I was surprised to learn how common C-sections are in China and how often they are encouraged by doctors. I initially thought it was because doctors genuinely believed them to be safer, but after learning more about it, it seems like they are often pushed as a means to make more money for the hospital, with a kickback going to the physician. One of my students and I were discussing medical procedures and hospitals recently and perhaps she put it best when she said, “Hospitals in China are blacker than you might guess.” Indeed, there seems to be some rather unethical money-making schemes going on. I've gotten a sense of this during my pre-natal visits, as I am encouraged to have an ultrasound every time I see the doctor, despite having a low-risk pregnancy. Every ultrasound costs 100 RMB (US$15), which doesn't sound like a lot by Western standards, but compared to the cost of visiting the doctor (a few RMB), it is significant.

You'd think that these practices would make me really angry and in a way, they do. I think it's sad that many Chinese people feel they can't trust doctors and have to be somewhat skeptical of prescribed tests and treatments. On the other hand, I do have some sympathy for doctors and hospitals. Most hospitals appear to be understaffed and underfunded. Doctors and (especially) nurses are paid poorly, yet it's important to keep costs down so patients can afford treatment. If you don't have the money for treatment, you can quite literally expect to be left out in the cold.

City Center Hospital, Chengde.
Where William will be born.

Birds and Bees in Chinese

I've been wanting to approach the PG-version of this topic with Ping for months. I first broached the subject with Ming's mom, wondering what her opinion was on discussing womanly issues with her granddaughter. I was desperately hoping she'd be up for the task, but I was quickly shot down.

“There's no need for that! She's too young! No need!” she assured me.

“But she could get her period soon. I got mine when I was eleven,” I rationalized.

“Impossible!” she declared. And that was the end of it.

Next, I turned to Ming for support, but he pretty much shared his mother's sentiments. Periods, sex, babies. . . no grade-schooler needs to learn about such matters! I asked him if anyone, at any point, had taught him anything about these things. They hadn't, which is probably why when we met, at 29-years-old, he thought people got AIDS from kissing. I didn't want Ping to be that kid. The clueless one who thinks you can get pregnant from a toilet seat or is convinced she is dying when her first period arrives.

Once I became pregnant, I felt like it was the perfect opener for discussing these issues with Ping. But my nerves kept getting in the way. How was I suppose to talk about this, and more importantly, how was I going to do it in Chinese? I told myself that as long as we had The Talk before William arrived, all would be well. Now that my due date is no longer some obscure date in the fairly distant future, I am feeling a push to get stuff done. The period + pregnancy conversation could wait no longer. The stars were aligned: Ming was at work. Ping was done with her homework. I was feeling motivated.

But I wasn't sure where to start. I can vaguely remember my own mother sitting me down on her bed one night when I was about 8. Out of nowhere, she explained the facts of life. I wasn't sure I could go It's Not the Stork, as well as I stack of tampons and pads. And Fei Fei. What better way to describe anatomy than by using your own dog!

photo by Beastyd74
via Photobucket

about it that directly, especially with the language obstacles I was facing. I needed props. First, was the trusty Children's Sexuality book (yeah, they make those) I had purchased back home,

With props in hand, I called Ping into our bedroom. My nerves quickly dissolved and I suddenly went into teacher mode. I started out with a simple question, asking her how her body and my body differed. Other than height, she couldn't think of any other major differences, which gave me an opening to explain. . . well, I won't go into details. You've probably had The Talk before and don't need it again from me.

While I didn't go into the fine details of everything and didn't even delve into the topic of sex, we were able to cover the basics about periods and a bit about how babies grow and are born. Ping seemed pretty comfortable with it all. Her only question was what umbilical cords are for. I think it's safe to say that she let me off easy! With the initial talk behind us, we are up and open for future dialogue. I think next time might be a little easier, maybe it will be in English.  

Buying for Baby

Raising kids isn't cheap, most parents will tell you. Babies are particularly expensive, as their arrival seems to come with an endless supply of “must have” items. I was not even aware of the amount of crap available for little ones these days. They even make warmers for wet wipes so your little bundle's tush doesn't get too cold when you clean his bum. How did we survive babyhood without these marvelous inventions? In China, wet wipes didn't hit the market until fairly recently, which made me realize that the Chinese have gotten by without a lot of stuff we consider the most basic in America. Not to mention, development-wise, China is ahead of the times compared to many countries. Somehow, babies around the world still mange to survive without both wet wipes and wet wipe warmers.

Who needs a Baby Throne when
a wash machine will do?
Photo via Taobao

It's made me realize that there's a lot of stuff out there that new parents think they need, that they don't really need. I've been trying to be realistic about what to buy, though Ming thinks I've gone terribly overboard by buying a breast feeding pillow and a sling. He claims that high chairs are a complete waste of money. His mom laughed when she saw the baby rocker (pictured) I bought. I told her my friends said they are great for soothing babies and having a place to put them down when you want to cook or clean. She told me she just put Ping in the washing machine when she needed to get stuff done. She wasn't joking. While I have my (fake) Moby sling, (knock-off) Boppy pillow, and (imposter) Fisher Price "Baby Throne" rocker, there will be no changing table, no bassinet, no car seat. We have no need and no room for all these items, plus they just aren't that commonly used among Chinese people.

Diapers are for suckers. Slit-butt pants
all the way!
Photo via Taobao

Clearly, by American standards, we are baby item minimalists. So having a baby in China must be cheap, right? Ha ha! No, not really. It doesn't have to be all that expensive, but it depends on a lot of factors. Firstly, having the baby itself costs money, as most people pay for hospital expenses out of pocket. I've heard wildly different estimates as to how much labor and delivery will cost. Anywhere from 2000 RMB (US$300) for a vaginal birth at an average local hospital to well over $10,000 RMB (US$1500) for a c-section performed at a “good” local hospital. I'll have to report back on this later. Currently, I'm budgeting 3,000-5,000 RMB.

Another major expense is, of course, diapers. Disposables have become very popular in China recently and aren't much cheaper than what you'd pay for diapers abroad. We, however, are planning on going the old-fashioned route and will be (mostly) cloth-diapering. Ming claims that they just used old rags to diaper Ping when she was a babe! Well, little Will is getting an upgrade because we actually purchased diapers with cloth inserts. On the cost saving side, most Chinese babies don't seem to be in diapers long, as many of them transition to split-butt pants before age one. If you don't know what that is, the baby's pants have an open seam where there butt-crack is so they can freely pop a squat wherever (see photo). How successfully this works will have to be a discussion for a future date. I'm still not entirely sure about the method, but I'm willing to give it a try when the time comes.

You want HOW MUCH money for that!?
photo via Taobao

I will just add one more to the list of expenses. . . can you guess what it is? Ah, yes, formula! Formula vs. breast milk, this seems to be on the forefront of the internet “Mommy Wars.” If I hear the phrase “breast is best” one more time I might puke. I am all for breastfeeding and intend to do it, but I don't have anything against formula, except the price! I was curious to see what it would cost if we ended up formula-feeding. I quickly realized that we probably couldn't afford it unless I was working. A four week's supply of Enfamil would eat up nearly 1/3 of Ming's monthly salary.

How do Chinese families do it? How do they pay for all the diapers and the formula, not to mention bottles and clothes and everything else? There's a phrase in Chinese that helps explain it, it goes something like: “One child, six wallets.” These days, since most parents are only children who only have one child themselves, many families only have one grandchild for two sets of grandparents. In other words, there are four grandparents and two parents for every baby and much of the adults' resources go to raising that baby. Our family definitely isn't in that position. We'll have two children with one grandmother in China, but I'm not too worried. I feel fortunate that I can work from home with flexible hours and Ming's mom will be around to help a lot--there are some things you can't really put a price on. 

The Woes of Parenting: Myth or Fact?

I try not to read too many online articles on parenting as I've found that the bulk of them mostly moan about the endless woes of parenthood motherhood. I realize that women need an outlet to vent, but sometimes all the negativity can be frightening to those of us who haven't experienced having children yet. I suppose I'm a special case, as I actually have helped raise a child for the past several years while also spending much of my time working with children. From my experience with children, I don't fully understand all the stress and drama that I find on mommy blogs, but I also don't know what it's like to take care of a baby or how it feels to have a biological child. Will it really change everything? I thought I'd write down some of my biggest fears about becoming a parent and taking care of a baby. Maybe I'll look back at them and laugh at their ridiculousness or maybe I will cry at my pre-baby naivety. Are they myths? Are they reality? Here are some of the ones I both question and fear:

1. I'll never sleep again. This is by far by biggest concern. I love sleeping and don't feel like myself without a good 7-8 hours. I realize I'm not going to be getting nights of uninterrupted sleep for awhile and there will be days that I don't get enough sleep. But how long will it last? Some parents talk as if it goes on for years. YEARS. I can't wrap my head around that, nor do I want to try.

There's no turning back now!
About 34 weeks.

2. I'll never have sex again. I DO understand having kids cuts into a couple's alone time and having a baby around will further complicate things, but how long of a sex drought are we really talking? And how much of this is to really blame on having kids and how much of it is to blame on just being married?

3. I'll never stop worrying. Ming does enough worrying for the both of us. I also grew up around two insanely epic worriers--my mother and grandfather. They were afraid to let me go to the neighbor's house alone in case I was abducted or murdered on the way. These fears continued well into my teen years. I refuse to be that type of parent.

4. I'll fail to change clothes for days, perhaps weeks, at a time. I won't find time to shower. Quite frankly, this doesn't bother me that much. Since living in China, I find myself wearing clothes two or three days in a row (though locals may go up to a full week). Showering daily only happens in summer. But at least these are choices I've made, not been forced into by an infant or toddler that requires so much attention that I can't change my underwear or brush my teeth.

5. I'll constantly be covered in spit up, barf, pee, and/or poop. Are babies and small children really this disgusting? Mothers make it sound that not a moment passes by without a bodily fluid leaking out of their little bundle of joy.

6. I won't love my dog anymore. There are those who say that once the baby comes, any pets are completely neglected. They may even been seen as such an annoyance that they are given away. This makes me really, really sad. I know Fei Fei won't get as much attention once the little one arrives, but I hate to think I won't have a place left in my heart for that little ball of fur.

7. I'll finally understand love. Another one that makes me feel sad. Can it really be true that you only appreciate love once you've had a child? I've read comments by people who claim they didn't experience or understand love until the birth of their child. I believe there are different kinds of love, but I think I already have a pretty good grasp on what it is thanks to my many kind and loving friends and family members.

This is really happening! (about 28 weeks)

8. I'll feel guilty pretty much constantly. I have pangs of guilt over Ping from time to time, though they were much more frequent when I first became her step-mother. I guess I already have somewhat of a grasp on parental guilt. . . wondering if I'm doing the right thing or perhaps totally screwing up my child. But I have worked hard to try and overcome those feelings and become a more confident parent.

9. My time will never be my own. Mothering is a 24-hour job. Really? Never a break? Don't you have a husband, friend, or grandparent that can help you? Mothers who claim they are always on the clock annoy the crap out of me. You should find a way to delegate your parental responsibilities so you can have some time to yourself. Maybe I will feel different once I have a baby to take care of, but I hope I can eventually manage to schedule some "me" time, as well as some special time for Ming and myself.

I'm sure there are more I could add to the list, but I'll leave it at that. It won't be long until I'll be able to sort fact from fiction, or at least understand the reality of parenthood from my own perspective. There's no turning back now; William should arrive within a month.

A Month

Photo by ANWAR_WARSI via Photobucket

With about a month to go, I'm looking past pregnancy to what almost inevitably follows in China: zuo yuezi (坐月子). In English, this is roughing translating as “sitting the month.” Yes, it is pretty much as it sounds--after giving birth to a child, the mother is basically expected to lay around, resting, eating, and (preferably) breastfeeding while her mother-in-law and other relatives take care of the cooking, cleaning, and errand running. Sounds like a pretty sweet set-up, right? Well, let's not draw any conclusions yet, because all this lazing around comes at a pretty steep price. There are numerous rules to follow and I've realized that if I'm going to try sitting the month while retaining my sanity, I'm going to have to better understand this practice, what it involves, and how much of it I am willing to embrace.

So what does “sitting the month” entail, exactly?

That is what I'm trying to get to the bottom of. I've talked to Chinese friends, read the limited articles and blogs (such as Taiwanxifu) I can find on the subject in English, as well as read the concise but helpful book, Lockdown, by Guang Ming Whitley. Mostly, zuo yuezi involves a lot of practices that most Westerners and many modern Chinese women would find unbearable. Forgoing activities such as showering, teeth brushing, reading, watching TV, and facebooking for an entire month after giving birth. Does that not sound miserable? Well, it's only the beginning of a long list of restrictions. Others include a long list of prohibited foods and beverages, banning visitors, crying, going outside, air-conditioning and even opening the window.

What's the reasoning behind all these rules?

Put most simply, zuo yuezi helps the mother recover after giving birth. The full answer is complicated and not something I can answer with much authority. Everything relates to Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), most importantly to the ideas surrounding yin and yang. While I am by no means a TCM convert, I can see the value in some of its principles.

So what's the upside of sitting the month?

Clearly, a mother's well-being affects the well-being of her child. While this seems pretty obvious, I think it's something we often forget. Women often talk about “putting their children first” and I'm not sure that's the best approach in the long run. We need to take care of ourselves too, especially after giving birth. In America we put a lot of emphasis on mothers making a speedy recovery and getting life back to normal asap. In a way, this does sound rather appealing, but once I became pregnant I thought a lot about the benefits of easing myself into the routines of everyday life and motherhood; I think zuo yuezi will help me do that.

But am I really willing to do this?

I'm definitely willing to try. I will try my best with the dietary requirements and limit my time reading, but I will be showering and brushing my teeth. Luckily, Ming and his mom have not been overbearing during my pregnancy so I assume they will continue to be openminded about the decisions I make for myself and the baby after he is born, but I think it is important for me to also open my mind to some of their Chinese ideas and practices, such as zuo yuezi.

The Good, the Bad, and the Weird

“Pregnant women are weird.”

Ming has said this to me a few dozen times since I've been pregnant. And every time I fall into the trap of arguing with him.

“No they aren't. My dad said my mom was in a great mood while she was pregnant. It was the happiest he'd ever seen her.”

“He's lying,” Ming insists.

“Well, I'm not any weirder now that I normally am. I'm usually this crazy, if not more so,” I try to argue.

“No. You are like this because you're pregnant,” he assures me.

I want to continue my futile defense, but it always ends with me realizing that perhaps I'm further proving his point. So is Ming right, are pregnant women “weird”?

I can only speak for myself, because I haven't spent much time around any other pregnant women. Honestly, I don't know if I buy into all that talk about crazy hormones and killer mood swings. Part of me thinks that is simply being a woman, not specifically being a pregnant woman. I have felt pretty upbeat and psychologically sound through most of my pregnancy. Mentally, I don't feel I am any weirder than I was pre-pregnancy.

photo by Yisel_5 via Photobucket

The past few days, however, I have been feeling a bit blue. I'm tired of having my body on display for all to comment and criticize. I think what is most depressing is the realization that this is only the beginning. Once the baby arrives, I will be subjected to further advice on how to cloth, feed, and raise my child. How will I deal with this without resorting to a series of expletives? Maybe I should go into hiding?

This morning, that seemed like the best solution. I wanted to crawl under the covers and stay there all day, to not face the world, not face China. I wanted to throw myself the biggest pity party ever. I'm different. Nobody understands me. I'm lonely. I miss America. I want to go home. . . .

Nine years and I still allow myself to spin down that spiral? At this point, it doesn't really matter if my pregnancy is to blame for such thoughts; the heart of the issue is that I can't allow myself to feel this badly. After all, no one is forcing me to stay here. And the frustrations I have now are nothing new. If I dealt with them in the past, can't I deal with them now? How did I cope when faced with this before?

Then it came to me--I must always remember to take the good with the bad. For every intrusive comment that makes me want to scream, there is at least one kind gesture that makes me smile. For every person who scolds me for walking my dog, there is another who happily gives up his seat for me on the bus. For every stranger that I wish would just mind her business, there is one that sings the praises of my future biracial offspring (“Oh, a mixed-blood! He'll be so cute! And smart! Very strong!”). Yes, there are good things. There are lots of good things about being in China. I must be particularly careful not to lose sight of them now.

33 weeks

After a very long absence, I've decided to resume blogging. I have my friend Emily to thank for that. Our recent conversation went something like this:

"So, I know you aren't on Facebook now. . . but what about Instagram?"

I shook my head.

"Do you use Snapchat?" she asked.

"Mmm, what's that? I have a Pinterest account! I don't use it, but I have one!" I answered enthusiastically. She wasn't fooled.

"Have you written on any of your blogs recently?"

My head hung in shame, "Umm, no, but I probably should."

My internet usage has slowly diminished to little more than checking email, making Skype calls, and binge watching American TV shows. Pregnancy seems like the perfect excuse to not do much of anything, but I feel like I'm letting an opportunity slip by. Pregnancy and parenthood in China is chalk full of interesting antecedents and I should be sharing them. If not for anyone else, then for my future self.

I'm well on my way into my third trimester and the past couple weeks have been somewhat trying. Luckily, I haven't suffered much physically, but mentally, some days are a struggle. I am showing, which somehow gives everyone a free pass to comment on my weight, food and beverage choice, exercise regimen, etc. This is probably true anywhere in the world, but the Chinese in particular seem to enjoy liberally doling out free advice.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, advice is given openly and often to anyone who will listen--relative, friend, or complete stranger--under the guise of concern and helpfulness. In fact, it was this very sort of two-cents offering that brought Ming and I together. His first words to me involved a critique of my ability to lift free weights. It was annoying then, but at least he was cute. It's even more aggravating when the advice giver is a middle-aged lady waiting in line behind me for the ATM.

Her issue?

This:

disease-ridden mongrel

To her utter disgust and horror, I was holding a dog while visibly pregnant. Of the all the beliefs most Chinese people hold about pregnancy, the one that may bother me most is that animals and pregnant ladies are a dangerous combination. Evidently, all animals are germ-carrying, disease-laden creatures that may cause you and your fetus grave harm. What harm? I'm still trying to get a straight answer to that question.

What I find most troubling is that this belief is entirely contrary to what Western medicine has found--that exposure to animals during pregnancy and babyhood is actual beneficial to a child's immune system and may help prevent the development of allergies. Unfortunately, my Chinese is not yet good enough to argue this point clearly, rather swear just words come to mind.  But this time I managed to (pretty much) keep my cool, curtly telling the woman to mind her business. Despite her protests, I continued holding my dirty dog. I then went up to the ATM terminal, angrily pushing the germ and disease covered buttons.

Ten Down, Forty to Go

I've set out on this goal of reading 50 books and somehow, 20% of the way through, I think I can see this thing through. My biggest accomplishment thus far is having finished The Lord the Rings (minus the 200 page appendices). While I loved the bits with Sam and Frodo, I struggled to enjoy the journeys and fighting taken on by the book's other main characters. To be quite honest, I would probably throw this in the "Like the movie(s) better than the book" category.

My favorite book of the first ten is probably Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca. This novel is a favorite among Britons, though I don't think it is widely read by Americans. In the book's foreword, it is compared to Jane Eyre. I'm not sure if I find this entirely accurate, although it's been awhile since I've read Jane. Rebecca, which is told in first-person narrative (which I love and haven't encountered for awhile), is the story of Mrs. de Winter and her strange and rather pathetic obsession with her husband's dead ex-wife, Rebecca. Following her thought process conjured up memories of my own ridiculous thoughts and ideas of love and loss (circa my dramatic and tortured middle school years). The brilliance of this novel is not only in how the author so deftly wraps the reader up in Mrs. de Winter's strange and secluded world, but also in the suspense and surprises found in the later chapters of the novel. Well done, du Maurier.

After reading Rebecca, I thought a bit about my favorite novels and why I like them. I'm curious what yours are. Please feel free to comment.  Here are mine, in no particular order:

1.) Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro.  I've read three books by Ishiguro who won the Man Booker Prize for his novel The Remains of the Day. I found all three novels different in style and content and remember feeling surprised that they were written by the same person. Of the three, I only liked one (I was bored stiff through The Remains of the Day, perhaps because I can't appreciate the intricacies of a British butler's life). As mentioned in a previous blog, Never Let Me Go haunted me. The novel slowly lets you in on the truth of its story and once you realize what is happening you find yourself heart-broken and appalled. This novel, which I found myself comparing to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, made me think a lot about the intricate relationship between creation and science and where a line should be drawn between the two.

2.) Atonement by Ian McEwan. I've also read several books by Ian McEwan; in addition to Atonement, I  enjoyed his lesser known novel (in the States anyways) Amsterdam. Unfortunately, I read it so long ago I know longer remember why it moved me. Atonement, however, continues to stick with me. If you haven't read the book, I do think the movie provided a fairly accurate portrayal of the story. Those who have either seen the film or read the book know it portrays the devastation caused by a child's over-active imagination. I think it also teaches us a lot about reconciling the thoughts and beliefs of our childhood with the reality of the adult world.

3.) The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy. I have a thing for all things Indian, particularly fiction novels that include India or Indians. I found this book sitting on a guesthouse bookshelf and picked it up.  "Man Booker Prize Winner" and it was set in India--I figured it was worth a shot. I struggled through the first few pages as the prose style is rather strange since it is mostly written from the viewpoint of a 7-year-old girl. Once I grew accustomed to it, this was one aspect of the book I truly enjoyed. Put simply, the book ends with tragedy, but in the process teaches the reader a lot about love, as well as class relations and tensions in India.

Fighting to Stay Where I Don't Belong

August 20, 2010

Today's Chinese Lesson:

麻烦 mafan: trouble; troublesome

太 tai: too (much); very; extremely

一点 yidian: a bit; a little


I fear today I'll be writing the kind of entry that is the cause for many (uncensored) internet blogging sites to get blocked in China. No matter how small the reading audience or how innocuous the entry, most criticism or dissent is silenced. My American friends may be surprised that I don't find this infuriating. I'm not angered because my Chinese friends seem mostly unconcerned. These days, Chinese people appear content to bask in their new found wealth and development rather than kick up a fuss about civil liberties. How long this will last, one can only guess. I see a lot changing here and quickly, but some attitudes and system are inevitably hard to break.

Two particular issues in which I'd love to see reform are the educational system and (government) corruption. I was born in a country where "Anything is Possible" yet I now find myself in a place where anything is possible with money and the right acquaintances. No time do I feel this more than applying for a visa. I'm not sure what the problem is exactly; applying for a visa in a developing country should not be this difficult. As the Chinese say, "Tai mafan." The only two reasonable explanations I've come up with are this:
1.) Visas are seen as a means to make money off of supposedly "rich" westerners.
2.) China really isn't all that interested in having us here.

Last year I failed to write about the verbal raping I received in my attempt to secure a visa at Chengde's Public Security Bureau (PSB, the brach of police that take care of foreigners' visas and residency permits). I had just been released from the hospital after my appendectomy. To my surprise, I received no sympathy from the newly appointed female officer who was to take care of foreigners' matters. Instead of the usual smile and politeness, she promptly interrogated me on my travels, my marriage, and my work. She even questioned me for not having children. In the end, she agreed to grant me a 3 month visa for the astronomical price of 1000 rmb ($150). The previous year I had received a one year visa, no questions asked, for the same price.

I was both enraged and baffled. Why just three months when the last woman in her position gave me a year? I so stupidly asked. Clearly questioning her authority would be no way to win over her favor and reason. A nice carton of cigarettes and some flattery would have been a better strategy. Naturally, my question was met with malice.

"Why should I give you so long? I can give you three weeks if I wish. If you have a problem, take it to Beijing!"

Me, never cool under pressure, replied with a curt "Fine, I will," and walked out the doors. Very badass. . . that is until I proceeded to have a complete meltdown on the sidewalk outside the PSB. My mind was spinning down the spiral. My visa will soon expire. I'll have to leave the country. Maybe I won't come back. I won't come back. . . EVER. I'm so sick of dealing with this. DAMN. THESE. PEOPLE. 

But, no fear, Ming's Kiwi boss recommended me to a visa agency in Beijing.  I sent my passport to them and they arranged a one year visa for me for 3500rmb ($500!!). Yidian mafan.

This year, I thought it would be just as simple, but of course nothing in China ever remains the same. It was plain foolish to assume it would. While the price for securing the visa had since decreased, the process had complicated itself significantly. I won't get into the details of the ordeal, as I haven't had enough distance from it yet to fully step back and laugh at the situation (maybe when my next visa crisis passes I will finally be able to come to terms with this one). Put simply, a day in Beijing turned into three which included multiple trips to both the visa agency and various PSBs and one stop at the American Embassy. Another journey down the spiral, angry internal voices and all. But I am now nearly recovered from the incident and my passport with newly attached visa will soon be in hand. The things I do for you China. Tai mafan.

P.S. I'm not sure you are worth it.

On the Road Again

August 9, 2010
This week I had the chance to revisit Mexico. Once again, I took the trip in literary form, although I do hope to venture there in body one day. Last time I went it was with Sal and his dead beat, no-good buddy Dean in Jack Kerouac's On the Road. This time I ventured with cowboys, and let me tell you, it was much more exciting.

For this week's selection I decided to take a break from The Lord of the Rings, which has suddenly morphed from pleasurable reading experience to a slightly arduous and dreaded task. I am determined not to fall behind in my reading, so after three days passed and I was only 30 pages into LOTR Book Two: The Two Towers, I picked up Cormac McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses which I cruised through in about 48 hours.

All the Pretty Horses is the second book I've read by Cormac McCarthy and I look forward to reading more. I'm particularly hoping to get my paws on a copy of his Blood Meridian. Earlier this year I read his post-apocalyptic novel The Road and was shaken to my core. I learned what the word "catamite" means (sometimes it's better not to look up words you don't know, no matter what your mother may have told you). I am still having nightmares. Next to Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go, no book has had more psychological effect on me than The Road.

McCarthy is different from most authors. He writes simply yet somehow manages rich and even chilling descriptions. Both novels contained plenty of dialogue but you won't find a single set of quotation marks within their stories. Compound-complex sentences are written in such a way that would surely dumbfound most high school English teachers. The Road doesn't even contain chapters, a format that undoubtedly breaks unspoken novel-writing etiquette. Despite (because of?) his strange style, I find myself swept up into his novels.

All the Pretty Horses may best be described as a Western, another genre of literature I rarely dabble in. I went to high school with enough Confederate flag-touting, Wrangler jeans-wearing, cowboy boot-sporting boys to know I'm not much interested in "cowboys" (with or without cow). I've never been much of a horse lover either. I would probably even describe myself as a city girl, but my sense of adventure and love for travel helps me appreciate a trip from Texas to Mexico on horseback. Throw in a cross-culturally love affair and I'm doubly sold.

The love (sub-) plot allows me to tie what I'm reading into my own life. Fancy that. Our American protagonist, John Grady, falls head over heals for a sexy foreigner, Alejandra. Grady is not as lucky in love as I have been since a disapproving father stands in his way. Ah, the dreaded in-la, challenging no matter where one is in the world. I am often asked questions about my relationship with my own mother-in-law, which I can shed a little light on here.

Most Americans have it easy, as one's significant other's family rarely makes a daily appearance in her life. For most it is just monthly and for those (lucky?) few, it is reserved for holidays and Christenings. In most parts of the world, this is hardly the case. Perhaps nowhere is it more true than in China where family reigns supreme over friendship, personal identity, and (dare I say) work. While the role of family is evolving, I don't think it uncommon here to deal with in-laws on a daily basis. Traditionally, after Chinese women wed, they would live with their husband's family. I'm glad some traditions are changing.

When I returned to China in 2008, I found myself back in Ming's hometown. I didn't realize how different life would be for me being married as opposed to simply dating. Ming's mom came to our home for most dinners and many lunches. Hardly a day would pass without seeing her. Despite her kindness and good-spirit, my sanity suffered and it showed. Eventually she backed off, for which I consider myself extremely fortunate and thoroughly grateful. In-laws, after all, can wield a frightening amount of power and influence.  This is made painfully clear in All the Pretty Horses.

Dating cross-culturally or cross-racially can lead to particularly hazardous family matters. Those of us that do dabble in such affairs rarely realize what we are getting ourselves into. I have a wonderful mother-in-law who has accepted me into her life from the start. Many foreigners in China have found their relationships doomed by their S.O.'s disapproving family members. I think most Americans cannot comprehend the gravity of such a situation. Most of us, no matter how overbearing and frustrating our S.O.'s parents, have it better than we realize. If you have any doubts, read All the Pretty Horses. I think you'll feel better about your situation. However, if you rather read about a father and son duo scavenging for food while avoiding cannibals, The Road might be a better pick for you.

My Favorite Things. . .

. . . are books, probably. Pirated ones, especially. You'd think after all those warnings about not reproducing books without the publisher's consent and reporting books missing a cover, I'd have a guilty conscience about purchasing clearly copied versions. Well, I don't.

Despite being in China, I have managed to acquire upwards of 100 novels in English--not all of them brilliant and some I may possibly never read. Finding books in languages other than Chinese is a challenge, especially if you are seeking anything recent. I am a fan of trading with other foreigners or snapping up any book, no matter how crappy, they leave behind (romance novels aside). I scavenge bookshelves at hostels and hotels. Naturally, I like to check out bookstores, though those usually only turn up reasonably priced classics or ridiculously priced contemporary favorites (20 bucks for Twilight, I'll gladly pass) if anything at all.

The one source I keep going back to is the book cart man in Beijing's Wudaokou neighborhood. I remember when I first found him, back in late 2006. He was hanging out at the corner near the light rail station with his cart, which was piled high with pirated English and Chinese novels. I nearly walked right past him, yet something beckoned me. I decided to take a look at his offerings, though I had assumed they must all be in Chinese. I immediately found an English copy of The Kite Runner and Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything, paying just a couple dollars for each. I almost died of happiness. For awhile there, he was MIA, thanks to pre- and post-Olympic crackdowns on street merchants. These days, however, he is back in action, him and five other booksellers, all with their carts piled high with novels.

While my time recently spent in Beijing was shit, the one ray of light that shined on those three days in hell was probably my book cart finds. I also had my trusty negotiator (Ming) with me. With his help, I managed to purchase 7 novels for around 80 rmb ($12). Not all of them are on my reading list, but I decided to pick them up anyways because I've noticed that some books seem to always be available (The Lord of the Rings and The Alchemist, for example), while others don't. My purchase includes:

1.) Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates (I was quite moved by the film)

2.) Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier (On my reading list. Just finished reading it and it was fab.)

3.) Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (reading list)

4.) The Shack by W.M. Paul Young (seems to be hot right now)

5.) Catch-22 by Joseph Heller (reading list)

6.) World without End by Ken Follett (I've wanted this since I read his novel The Pillars of the Earth)

7.) The Thorn Birds by Colleen McCullough (on the list and evidently the Australian answer to Gone with the Wind, which, by the way, is a great novel)

Thoughts?

The Courage to Say No

Lord of the Rings--if you haven't read the books, you've probably seen the movies. In case you have missed them both, I'll let you in on some of the basics. Our story is set in Middle Earth, a world in many ways resembling our own planet. The creatures found there are also familiar, though not entirely similar to the animals, plants, and humans found on the Earth we know. In Middle-earth, trees have the ability to assault passersby and birds engage in espionage. The story's protagonist, Frodo, is a hobbit, a race relating to man but shorter and of slightly different appearance and manner. Frodo, his hobbit buddies (Sam, Merry, and Pippin), a sexy elf who knows how to work a bow and arrow (Legolas), a grey wizard (Gandalf), a man who knows his way around Middle-earth (Aragorn), and a few others come together to form a coalition, a fellowship, if you will. Their goal: To destroy a ring. This, however, is no ordinary ring. This ring and whoever possesses it holds an unmatched amount of power. With this power, often comes evil. Ridding oneself of a ring sounds simple enough, but for Frodo it means journeying hundreds of dangerous miles to Mordor and throwing the ring into (the aptly named) Mount Doom. How Frodo began saddled with this responsibility doesn't really sit right with me. He is stuck with the ring and the task of destroying it simple because his uncle gave it to him and told him to do so.

I often get frustrated with stories of this nature. I have a hard time understanding why anyone would commit themselves to a seemingly impossible task that will probably kill them, a task that they are ill-equipped to handle and which someone else could surely do for them. In these types of stories the protagonist usually faces his challenge head on, overcomes adversity, and proves a hero. In real life, one is rarely so lucky. Whenever I do things I don't want to do, it inevitably leads to resentment or humiliation. I have learned this the hard way living in China.

While no one in China has ever asked me to travel to distant and remote lands to get rid of a piece of jewelry, I have been asked to partake in some rather ridiculous tasks. Why do I do these things? It's really not in my nature to commit to anything I'm uncomfortable with doing. But as any foreigner who lives in China will eventually find, the country and its people have a strange way of manipulating us into doing things against our nature. As Rachel DeWolfskin explains in Foreign Babes in Beijing, her spot-on memoir chronicling female ex-pat life in Beijing, sometimes its just easier to comply with people than deal with the awkwardness and confusion that arises from refusing them. I whole-heartedly agree.

I will now reveal to you one incident in which I was coerced into doing something utterly regrettable. This dates back to September 2005; I remember it well as the embarrassment of the ordeal has been seared into my brain. It was a Friday and I was on my computer working in the English office of Chengde's No. 1 High School. My boss, Celine, sweet and sly as she was, explained to me that the following day was Teacher's Day and that there was to be an assembly for the entire staff. I was required to perform at the assembly. My mouth dropped and my knees shook knowing that my worst fear was to be faced in less than 24 hours. The words whirled around in my head, “No, I can't,” “I don't want to,” “I don't have enough time to prepare,” yet nothing came out. With simple nod my fate was sealed.

At the assembly I watched in horror at the acts that proceeded mine. Most of the teachers participating performed in a group. Most of them wore costumes and had choreographed dance moves or played exotic Chinese instruments. I learned that they had over a week to prepare their performances. I got up on stage, in front all my colleagues, and sang Micheal Learns to Rock's “Take Me to Your Heart,” a horribly cheesy English song that was massively popular in Asia 5 years ago. For those of you who don't know me well, I am not a singer. Perhaps tone deaf would be an appropriate use of terms here. Despite my lack of talent, I was forced to sing a cappella since I had no time to find the accompanying background music. My singing didn't last long. Fifteen seconds into the song I forgot the words and ran off stage. The teachers gave me a round of pity applause as I sunk back into my seat among the English department staff. I was mortified, I still am mortified, and it all could have been avoided with a simple “No, sorry, I can't.”

Maybe living in China has helped me to understand characters (and real-life people) like Frodo--sometimes saying “yes” seems much easier than saying “no,” even if it means enduring unpleasantries such as public humiliation or, in Frodo's case, encountering Orcs. I personally believe it takes a lot of courage to say "no," but maybe not as much courage as it takes to cross Middle-earth to Mount Doom.

Rings and Things

It's that time of year when it's so hot and muggy that I desperately wish to be plunged into the depths of winter, no matter how cold or dark. Each summer I've lived in China, amid the smog and suffocating humidity, I have longed for winter. I have a feeling though, that in six months I will be wanting to bask in this 100 degree stuffiness. I now have little sympathy for those back home who complain about Milwaukee's weather. I would do anything for a little lake effect breeze right now.

With this daily discomfort comes a complete lack of motivation to do anything, I don't want to cook or write or eat or watch TV (unless it's a new episode of AMC's "Mad Men"). I definitely don't want to go outside. I would just like to lay still in front of my air-conditioner, which has been getting quite the workout the past few days. I'm sorry environment.

I am still managing to forge ahead with my reading, but at a snail's pace. I have finally, FINALLY began to read Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings" trilogy (which, according to the foreword, isn't actually a trilogy. It is a single novel published in three volumes. But I still think it's a trilogy). I had a copy of "The Fellowship of the Ring" sitting on my bookshelf all through college, but just never managed to get into it. I think I purchased the book due to my freshman year crush on Orlando Bloom, (aka Legolas) rather than any real desire to begin the series.

I never have been much for fantasy or sci-fi, but maybe that's more because I tell myself that and therefore avoid both genres. I have a good feeling about LOTR though, which is leaving me with that happy and curious feeling I first experienced when reading the Harry Potter series. No doubt J.K. Rowling was influenced by Tolkien in her writing.

It's comes as a relief that I will be able to sink into a book (or three, in this case) and fully enjoy. I feel like I've been doing a lot of reading for reading's sake rather than for entertainment's sake. I need a break. I need something to remind me that reading can be fun and help me forget how miserable the summer is in China.

"The English-speaking world is divided into those who have read The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings and those who are going to read them."

~The Sunday Times

Crime and Punishment

This morning I put in my earbuds and listened to my favorite podcast from Chinesepod.com. The different levels and topics of discussion are quite varied, and at times the day's lesson can border on strange. It is, however, a really great tool for anyone learning Chinese and the hosts of the show always keep things interesting. Today I picked an upper intermediate level lesson which featured a dialogue between two Chinese people debating their opinions on capital punishment. The lesson was a bit above my level and rather difficult for me to follow, but it did seem appropriate after having finished "Crime and Punishment" last night.

I won't get into my position on the issue of capital punishment because it can be such an emotional issue (it was enough of a revelation to admit my feeling on "Twilight"). Furthermore, I don't fully know where I stand on the issue. Since living in China, my world has been turned upside when it comes to social and political issues. Here, capital punishment is handed out quite liberally and for a myriad of offenses (destroying cultural relics, corruption, drug trafficking, and, before 1997, panda killing, just to name a few). Individuals sentenced to death sometimes see their sentence reduced to life imprisonment, which I find can't help but find bizarre. News of death sentences is reported matter-of-factly on the news. I don't think you can hear anyone lobby for the rights or innocence of those convicted, but this should come as little surprise since the media here is state run. The public gets one side of the story, the government's side.

One case involving corruption, death, and the ultimate demise of two convicts has left a lingering impression on me. In 2008, several infants died due to the contamination of infant formula with the chemical melamine. Hundreds of thousands of babies and small children were sick due to adulterated milk or formula. We wouldn't allow Ping to drink milk for months, in fear of her getting sick. Seventeen people went to trial for their involvement in the scandal and two of them were executed in November 2009. Today, I couldn't help but wonder, are cases like this any more or less likely to happen in places that impose a death penalty? Do people who get caught up in greed and corruption, murder or assault, drugs and theft, feel any less likely to commit a crime if they know they could ultimately condemned to death for their transgressions?

Let's take things down a notch and put the death penalty aside. I've been thinking a lot about what prevents us from doing what society deems "wrong." Is it because of laws or our own morality? Is it due to our conscience or a fear of imprisonment (and, in some cases, death)? In "Crime and Punishment," RR believes his act isn't immoral and therefore he is above the law; he argues that the end justifies the means. He also believes it is the perfect crime, in the sense that it is justifiable, hence he will never be caught. As you can surmise, he was a tad off base with those assumptions, but how many other criminals think along these same lines?

Despite his crime, I was still able to sympathize with him. While I've never done anything horrendously illegal, I have certainly done things wrong in my life. We all have. I usually take the time to weigh the consequences of my actions. There were times, especially when I was a child, that my greatest fear was the punishment I faced if caught. As I get older, however, I find I am more influenced by my conscience and personal sense of morality. I think others are heavily influenced by religion; God is watching. Some people worry about their reputation, what people will say if their crime is revealed. In short, I think our sense of right and wrong is influenced by many factors, least of all the law. I also can't help but think, at least for myself, that a guilty conscience can be most brutal punishment of all.

The (Ex) Patriate

I didn't know what the word expatriate (expat) meant until I become one. In fact, I may have mistakenly pronounced the word ex-patriot the first dozen or so times I said it. An ex-patriot I am not, but I an expat I am, maybe for life. I'm finding that many of my old friends are becoming expats themselves and most of my new friends, the majority of which are foreigners living in China, are as well. I've decided to write the blog as a tribute to those people and people who like them have moved away from their hometown, if not their home country. I've done a bit of reflection on this during the past couples weeks as several of my friends struggle with their lives away from home or with their transition back to being back home. I sometimes face these struggles myself, especially now that I don't know what “home” really means.

I often wonder what attracts people to living overseas. Some people make an entire life out of it, jumping from country to country with their significant other and small children in tow. That type of lifestyle probably isn't in the cards for me, due more to familial circumstances than a lack of desire to reside in other countries. While I currently hold a deep curiosity for foreign lands and cultures, I wasn't always this way. I could have easily and happily stayed in Wisconsin without much thought of visiting Tibetan monasteries, Bagan, or Angkor Wat. But after going abroad for the first time (a special shout out to Amy Greil and Ireland for this opportunity), I decided I wanted to see more. I also realized traveling isn't as scary as I thought it was. The overachiever in me was reawakened and I felt the need to do something, see something. I think there's a lot of overachievers in China--recent college grads who want to challenge themselves. People who just can't sit still. People who probably don't watch much TV. People who have, at one time or another, labeled themselves as “perfectionists.” But for every Summa Cum Laude who comes to China only to return to America to pursue a degree in Law/Medicine/something-ridiculously-difficult-and-world-changing, there is a social misfit or alcoholic womanizer among their ranks. Foreign countries attract a strange and varied breed of human and I think it's safe to say few of us are anywhere close to being “normal.”

In addition to the types of people that move abroad, I've given some thought to the places to which they go. I believe that certain places are better suited to certain types of people. This is true of both vacationing spots and locations to live. While some people have that special gift of making the best out of whatever circumstances they find themselves in, most of us are creatures of our environment. If we don't feel comfortable or (at the very least) interested in our surroundings, our happiness and attitude suffer. I can't pinpoint specific types of people who enjoy living and traveling in Asia, but I do find that most of the people here are among the more intrepid of travelers. I think a fairly high tolerance for noise, dirt, crowdedness, discomfort, and linguistic misunderstandings will prove helpful. If this sounds unappealing to you, maybe you should try for Europe before booking a flight to Bangkok, Beijing, or Delhi. I do, however, think we can surprise ourselves. I, for one, never would have imagined enjoying Asia as much as I do. For all it's difficulties, I find it a very captivating and rewarding place to live in and explore. My point is basically this: It may be hard to know for certain if we'll like traveling or living somewhere, but I think it's fair to assume we probably won't like everywhere and there's nothing wrong with that.

But now the real meat and potatoes of this, which is me pondering why living abroad can be so damn difficult. Some reasons are quite obvious, others less so. Culture shock has a lot to do with it. This can be felt even within one's own country or state. Moving from the North to the South or from a town to the city can be a drastic change. People may do things differently, talk differently, and think differently. They may have different political and religious leanings or be of different ethnicities or socio-economic standings. If this is true within our own country, it is exponentially true when moving to overseas. Even in countries seemingly similar to our own, you will find many things different. When moving from a place like America to China, you may (on certain days) feel like everything is different. For me, this is the beauty of being in China. I'm not suppose to fit in and it shows, my stocky legs and large green eyes give it away every time. Being a foreigner in China equates to locals having extremely low expectations yet high levels of understanding for me. This phenomenon is not characteristic of most places where fitting in and being accepted are somewhat essential to survival.

Besides the culture shock, I think moving away from home can be very lonely. I am not terribly good at making new friends, but China somehow makes up for what I lack. I easily fall into friendships with other foreigners here. This has nothing to do with my stellar personality, but is a result of us all being in similar situations--we are all looking for friends. We are all looking for people with which we can speak English at a normal pace and even throw in some slang for good measure. Chinese people, no matter how good their English, do not understand what “cankles,” “chillax,” or “fugly” mean. We want someone to get our jokes (and appreciate sarcasm), our fashion (hoodies sporting our homestate or college name paired with jeans), our preference for food (Mexican or anything cheesy) and TV shows (“The Office,” anyone?). And whenever that gets boring, a potential Chinese friend is lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce and practice their English. This isn't the case most places, where local people don't care who you are or where you're from, nor do they need your friendship. Making new friends may mean a lot of effort and when all is said and done, you may just move away. After months of trying to get to know a person, all you may be left with is another casual facebook friend.

Which leads me to the end of the cycle, one which I may never reach. . . re-entry shock. This can be even worse than the initial culture shock. A lot of people have a surprisingly difficult time readjusting when returning home. Life went on and goes on. No one cares that you went to Bali or visited the Great Wall. They may not care to see your scrapbook or hear about your new friends. They don't understand where you've been or what you've done. Things are just suppose to continue on as normal, as if you were never really gone. It's can be hard to get a footing, to fit in again, or to even want to fit in. I honestly don't know how people do it. I tried myself in 2007 and I ended up returning to China.

This entry may have bordered on pessimistic, though I was going for realistic. I think it's important for anyone who moves away from their hometown to realize that it's not always easy. Moving back home can be tough too. Sometimes it is difficult and lonely and maybe even a bit depressing. Don't feel bad if it's not all rainbows, butterflies, and exciting nights filled with friendship and adventure. I've had low points; in fact, I continue to have them. But they get less frequent and easier to manage. Living in China has become less “Living in China” and more just living life. Maybe one day I will even call it home.