We are packing up the van that will drive us and our loads of luggage across the border and bridge to Hong Kong airport.
We read it is snowing in Utah. It's 80 degrees here and very humid.
UTAH here we come
16 years ago
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
What We'll Miss
As we squatted on our foot-high stools around our 2 1/2 square foot table and pick up our dinner meal with chopsticks, I asked everyone what they would miss about our time here.
Isabel: Sitting like this and using chopsticks
Jacek: Bus #43
Sofia: The theme music that wafts across the apartment complex in the evenings
Kif: Our concentrated family time
Stirling: Where are we going this week?
Our flight leaves Hong Kong at 5:05 pm on Wednesday. We get to San Francisco at 2:07 pm, before we've even left Hong Kong.
What they want to eat when they get back: Grandma's Spaghetti, Shauntell's Meat Sandwiches, Costco Pizza.
Isabel: Sitting like this and using chopsticks
Jacek: Bus #43
Sofia: The theme music that wafts across the apartment complex in the evenings
Kif: Our concentrated family time
Stirling: Where are we going this week?
Our flight leaves Hong Kong at 5:05 pm on Wednesday. We get to San Francisco at 2:07 pm, before we've even left Hong Kong.
What they want to eat when they get back: Grandma's Spaghetti, Shauntell's Meat Sandwiches, Costco Pizza.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
waigouren/zhongouren
As we left our apartment building this morning for church, two little boys in red shirts scootered to a quick stop in front of us. "waiguoren! waigouren!(Foreigners! Foreigners!)" one pointed at us with surprise. On cue, Jacek, Sofia and Stirling all pointed back "zhongouren! zhongouren! (Chinese! Chinese!)." Confused, the boy shook his head no. The three "waigouren" nodded their heads yes. "You are too Chinese," the laughed.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Hong Kong
We've had a wonderful day: pastries from a Golden Mile shop; subway to Hong Kong Island from our hotel on Kowloon; funicular up Victoria Peak; 360 degree view of Hong Kong from the Sky Terrace; Graham Street market with sliced fish so fresh their hearts still beat; Fu Yuen Street Market open from 6:00 am to 2:00 am every day; tangerine skins at the Wholesale Food Market; bargaining (again!) at the Jade Market; the Langham Place Mall with escalators going up four flights through an open air lobby and then another escalator going up another four flights; Shang Shang Shanghai food for dinner.
Then our luck turned. At the Mong Kok station, Isabel stepped into the subway car. Stirling stopped on the platform, said "Wait" and turned to look for the rest of us who trailed behind. The yellow caution light flashed. The inside doors closed. Stirling turned back, saw Isabel inside, and instinctively shoved his body between the closing outside glass doors, then wrenched them as hard as he could to open them. I ran up and pounded with my fists on the inside doors as Stirling shouted to Isabel "Tsim Sha Tsui" the stop for our hotel. Magically, the inside doors opened and a crying Isabel shot into Sofia's arms. We were very grateful the engineer was watching.
On every trip, I've had Isabel tell me over and over again what hotel we are staying at. Here it is the Imperial Hotel on Nathan Road. We've talked about finding an adult with a child to help her if she gets lost. Now we've added, "If you get separated from the group on the subway, get off at the next stop and stay put." But, it won't happen again.
Isabel's subway separation happened very quickly and only lasted a few minutes. Really, it's been a very wonderful day.
Then our luck turned. At the Mong Kok station, Isabel stepped into the subway car. Stirling stopped on the platform, said "Wait" and turned to look for the rest of us who trailed behind. The yellow caution light flashed. The inside doors closed. Stirling turned back, saw Isabel inside, and instinctively shoved his body between the closing outside glass doors, then wrenched them as hard as he could to open them. I ran up and pounded with my fists on the inside doors as Stirling shouted to Isabel "Tsim Sha Tsui" the stop for our hotel. Magically, the inside doors opened and a crying Isabel shot into Sofia's arms. We were very grateful the engineer was watching.
On every trip, I've had Isabel tell me over and over again what hotel we are staying at. Here it is the Imperial Hotel on Nathan Road. We've talked about finding an adult with a child to help her if she gets lost. Now we've added, "If you get separated from the group on the subway, get off at the next stop and stay put." But, it won't happen again.
Isabel's subway separation happened very quickly and only lasted a few minutes. Really, it's been a very wonderful day.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Broken Necks
In Hong Kong, there are no Broken Necks. That’s the name Sofia, Jacek and Isabel have affectionately given to the myriads of people who openly stare -- no, gawk -- at us in Shenzhen. I’m afraid we’ll cause a traffic accident when truck drivers spot us up ahead and then lean out the window to crane 180 degrees and beyond as they drive by. “Broken Neck,” I say to Sofia as a woman riding tandem with a crying child swivels around to see us. “Broken Neck on the right” Isabel says as a grandma stops sweeping the street to tracks our steps. I thought I’d be used to it by now, but we just arrived by subway in Hong Kong and I can feel the difference. Not a soul has stared at us, not one.
And, I have VPN-free blog access. I(heart)HongKong.
And, I have VPN-free blog access. I(heart)HongKong.
Who are the people in your family?
While I was judging a moot court tryout round this morning, Cheryl, one of the office assistants, waved at me insistently through the glass window of the classroom door. I finished judging moot court, then went down to the office to see what she wanted. She searched around on her desk for two documents, one white, one pink and said “These are in Chinese. Maybe I will tell you what they say” as if I might already know what she was talking about. I didn’t. She said “When you live in an apartment complex, you have rules.” “Oh, no” I thought, “someone has complained about us at Lakefront Fairyland. We’ve probably broken all kinds of rules, but it’s a little late to tell us exactly what the rules are.” She continued “I have to register your apartment contract. When I register your contract, you have to register your family.” “But,” I say “we are leaving in a week.” “But, I tell them that you are leaving, so they say you don’t register your family.”
Cheryl’s pause gave weight to her next words, “The family planning count will happen at your apartment on Tuesday.” “What?” I said in surprise. “In China, we have a family planning rule, one child per family. It is a very strict rule.” My mind raced “Right, I know that . . . but, I have three children . . . They are already here. . . The rule can’t possibly apply to us . . . I don’t need or want family planning advice from the neighborhood clinic or the Chinese state.” “On Tuesday,” she repeated “the family planning advice will happen at your apartment. “ “But . . . but . . .” I spluttered. She looked me in the eye, “Your family is not registered. Don’t open the door.”
Cheryl’s pause gave weight to her next words, “The family planning count will happen at your apartment on Tuesday.” “What?” I said in surprise. “In China, we have a family planning rule, one child per family. It is a very strict rule.” My mind raced “Right, I know that . . . but, I have three children . . . They are already here. . . The rule can’t possibly apply to us . . . I don’t need or want family planning advice from the neighborhood clinic or the Chinese state.” “On Tuesday,” she repeated “the family planning advice will happen at your apartment. “ “But . . . but . . .” I spluttered. She looked me in the eye, “Your family is not registered. Don’t open the door.”
What do you need: bullhorn or cell phone?
October 20, 2009
Question: In China, who is louder, someone with a bullhorn or someone with a cell phone?
Answer: The cell phone screamer.
Question: In China, who is louder, someone with a bullhorn or someone with a cell phone?
Answer: The cell phone screamer.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Jacek's Bargain at Mutianyu (The Great Wall)
Jacek bargained with broken bones at Mutianyu and came out ahead. An old man in an olive green army jacket graced by a sparkly Obama pin on the front followed us up a 12 foot ladder into one of the guards' towers to persuade Jacek to buy a cheap, gold colored Great Wall medal on a red ribbon. After a great conversation, Jacek finally said yes and we all turned to go back down. Jacek took three steps, then slipped and fell the rest of the way down to the stones below. Stirling saw him fall the nine or ten feet. As the last in line, I only heard the clunks and Stirling saying "Don't move, buddy. Really, don't move. I'm coming down." Stirling checked Jacek out: no broken tibia, no broken fibula, no broken femur, no broken ankle, no broken foot, no broken wrist, as far as he could tell. Jacek had bloody knees and the bruises have grown larger and darker with time, but he could walk and his knee caps survived intact.
Tonight, back in Shenzhen, we talked about what we are grateful for. Isabel said "that Jacek didn't break any bones on the Great Wall." He also got lost on the wall, but that's a story for another time.
Tonight, back in Shenzhen, we talked about what we are grateful for. Isabel said "that Jacek didn't break any bones on the Great Wall." He also got lost on the wall, but that's a story for another time.
Sofia's and Isabel's Bargains at Mutianyu (The Great Wall)
The Mutianyu section of the Great Wall snakes across mountain ridges an hour and a half outside of Beijing. I tried to imagine what it would have been like to be a soldier living on the wall, looking out into a distant valley for the enemy, sleeping on the cold stone far from home.
Sofia was my personal shopper at all the little stalls along the pathway to the wall. She's ask me how much I was willing to pay for something and then doggedly bargain down to that range. Her best strategy was to simply keep repeating her low ball offer, "San shi kuai" (30 yuan), in the face of the outrageous price the vendor first quoted "Yi bai ba shi kuai" (180 yuan). When the vendor said "I'll give you the Chinese price because you speak Chinese" and lowered the price to 160 yuan, she'd say "San shi kuai." To "Come on, give a little," she'd smile and say "San shi yi kuai" (31 yuan). As she walked away with her purchases, some vendors complained to each other in Chinese about the hard bargains she drove.
Isabel did some great bargaining at the wall too. With her good knowledge of numbers and bargainig strategy, she got presents for several friends.
I'll try and get some pictures up soon.
Sofia was my personal shopper at all the little stalls along the pathway to the wall. She's ask me how much I was willing to pay for something and then doggedly bargain down to that range. Her best strategy was to simply keep repeating her low ball offer, "San shi kuai" (30 yuan), in the face of the outrageous price the vendor first quoted "Yi bai ba shi kuai" (180 yuan). When the vendor said "I'll give you the Chinese price because you speak Chinese" and lowered the price to 160 yuan, she'd say "San shi kuai." To "Come on, give a little," she'd smile and say "San shi yi kuai" (31 yuan). As she walked away with her purchases, some vendors complained to each other in Chinese about the hard bargains she drove.
Isabel did some great bargaining at the wall too. With her good knowledge of numbers and bargainig strategy, she got presents for several friends.
I'll try and get some pictures up soon.
Tiananmen Square and Mao's Mausoleum, Beijing
A hundred thousand people wait in a creeping line every day to see Mao's formaldehyde-preserved body in the immense mausoleum on the edge of Tiananmen Square. That hundred thousand included Stirling, Sofia, Jacek and Isabel on Saturday, October 19th. I'm glad they all had the cultural experience, but I stayed outside, in part to carry prohibited backpacks and cameras and facilitate their entry, more because I don't want to participate in any sort of veneration of Mao. My staying outside counts nothing against the destruction and incomprehensible death and fear that Mao inflicted on China, nothing for anyone but me.
Wangfujing Street Night Market, Beijing
Wangfujing Street beckons in the dark. Vendors tempt hungry passers-by with skewers of everything imaginable on sticks. I ate bee cocoon and ostrich. I did not eat scorpion, silkwork larvae, starfish, seahorses, kidney, dog or sheep's penis.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Electronic Swindle
We've had very limited internet access and problems with the VPN, hence the lack of recent posts.
_____________________________
On Wednesday evening, Stirling went to the ATM, the ATM that has served us so well. It is close to our apartment, only across the canal and two blocks down. It operates 24-7. It allows a maximum withdrawal of 3000 yuan ($440) which makes the $5 service charge per transaction our bank imposes a little less painful than for ATMs with a 1000 yuan limit. This time, however, our convenient little ATM balked. It took the card, took the PIN, smiled broadly, shuffled some money, and shut down. Stirling tried several other machines and they also refused to cooperate. Thursday morning, however, our bank account showed a $440 withdrawal executed at 6:12 am Utah time/8:12 pm Shenzhen time on October 7. We were robbed.
At the university, I printed out the bank record showing the debit to our account and asked, Cheryl, one of the law school employees, for help. She called the bank, then said “Let’s go” as she hopped into her car. Her confident manner and the fact that she actually spoke with someone, inspired hope for a quick resolution. I naively expected to walk into the branch office right next door to the ATM and, presto, chango, $3000 yuan in my pocket. ‘Twas not to be. Whoever she spoke to, it wasn’t at the branch office. On arrival, we learned that the branch office was still closed because it was the last day of the National Holiday (Holiweek really) that began with National Day on October 1, continued through the Mid-Autumn Festival on October 3, and extended to October 8 for good measure and travel time. It opened again on Friday, October 9, but we were already supposed to be on our way to Gaungzhou (formerly Canton) and wouldn’t be back until late Saturday. On a second phone call, the bank said it didn’t matter when we made the complaint. We could show up on Sunday or Monday with our passport and receipt and fill out a complaint form. I reminded Cheryl we didn’t have a receipt because the machine shut down. She smiled so innocently and said the bank would check its records, consider the matter for a few days, and “if it was real,” maybe give us the missing money. We are supposed to meet Cheryl at the ATM branch office Monday morning at 9:00 am.
At least we were robbed in a culturally appropriate way. Shenzhen was the first special economic zone in China in the 1980s. Nobody is going to stick us up on the street, but an electronic swindle fits right in with the high flying business zone.
Post Datum:
Stirling sent an email to our bank in the US which immediately filed an international fraud complaint. They said our account would be credited within 48 hours. We didn't go with Cheryl to the branch office because the US bank seemed to be handling the situation well. But, we're still waiting for the credit to our account.
_____________________________
On Wednesday evening, Stirling went to the ATM, the ATM that has served us so well. It is close to our apartment, only across the canal and two blocks down. It operates 24-7. It allows a maximum withdrawal of 3000 yuan ($440) which makes the $5 service charge per transaction our bank imposes a little less painful than for ATMs with a 1000 yuan limit. This time, however, our convenient little ATM balked. It took the card, took the PIN, smiled broadly, shuffled some money, and shut down. Stirling tried several other machines and they also refused to cooperate. Thursday morning, however, our bank account showed a $440 withdrawal executed at 6:12 am Utah time/8:12 pm Shenzhen time on October 7. We were robbed.
At the university, I printed out the bank record showing the debit to our account and asked, Cheryl, one of the law school employees, for help. She called the bank, then said “Let’s go” as she hopped into her car. Her confident manner and the fact that she actually spoke with someone, inspired hope for a quick resolution. I naively expected to walk into the branch office right next door to the ATM and, presto, chango, $3000 yuan in my pocket. ‘Twas not to be. Whoever she spoke to, it wasn’t at the branch office. On arrival, we learned that the branch office was still closed because it was the last day of the National Holiday (Holiweek really) that began with National Day on October 1, continued through the Mid-Autumn Festival on October 3, and extended to October 8 for good measure and travel time. It opened again on Friday, October 9, but we were already supposed to be on our way to Gaungzhou (formerly Canton) and wouldn’t be back until late Saturday. On a second phone call, the bank said it didn’t matter when we made the complaint. We could show up on Sunday or Monday with our passport and receipt and fill out a complaint form. I reminded Cheryl we didn’t have a receipt because the machine shut down. She smiled so innocently and said the bank would check its records, consider the matter for a few days, and “if it was real,” maybe give us the missing money. We are supposed to meet Cheryl at the ATM branch office Monday morning at 9:00 am.
At least we were robbed in a culturally appropriate way. Shenzhen was the first special economic zone in China in the 1980s. Nobody is going to stick us up on the street, but an electronic swindle fits right in with the high flying business zone.
Post Datum:
Stirling sent an email to our bank in the US which immediately filed an international fraud complaint. They said our account would be credited within 48 hours. We didn't go with Cheryl to the branch office because the US bank seemed to be handling the situation well. But, we're still waiting for the credit to our account.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Mercedes Sosa, 1935 -2009
Mercedes Sosa, one of our very most favorite Latin American singers, died today in Buenos Aires. Stirling and I both saw her live in different concerts in Buenos Aires in 2003. She had a magnificent presence and stunning voice.
Every Christmas (and other times too), we listen to "La navidad de Luis" which she sang with Leon Gieco. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hNygMUZdmpk . I've copied the Spanish lyrics below and translated them into English.
Every Christmas (and other times too), we listen to "La navidad de Luis" which she sang with Leon Gieco. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hNygMUZdmpk . I've copied the Spanish lyrics below and translated them into English.
La Navidad de Luis
Toma Luis, mañana es Navidad.
un pan dulce y un poco de vino,
ya que no puedes comprar.
Toma Luis, llévalo a tu casa
y podrás junto con tu padre
la Navidad festejar.
Mañana no vengas a trabajar,
que el pueblo estará de fiesta
y no habrá tristezas...
Señora, gracias por lo que me da,
pero yo no puedo esto llevar
porque mi vida no es de Navidad.
Señora, ¿cree que mi pobreza
llegará al final comiendo pan
el día de Navidad?
ya que no puedes comprar.
Toma Luis, llévalo a tu casa
y podrás junto con tu padre
la Navidad festejar.
Mañana no vengas a trabajar,
que el pueblo estará de fiesta
y no habrá tristezas...
Señora, gracias por lo que me da,
pero yo no puedo esto llevar
porque mi vida no es de Navidad.
Señora, ¿cree que mi pobreza
llegará al final comiendo pan
el día de Navidad?
Mi padre me dará algo mejor,
me dirá que Jesús es como yo,
y entonces así podré seguir...
Viviendo,
viviendo,
viviendo,
viviendo,
viviendo,
viviendo,
viviendo,
viviendo,
viviendo.
Luis's Christmas
Here, Luis, tomorrow is Christmas
Some sweet bread and a little wine,
Things you can't afford to buy.
Here Luis, take it home
At home with your father
You can celebrate Christmas.
Tomorrow, don't come to work
The entire village will celebrate
There won't be any sadness . . .
Ma'am, thank you for your gift
but I can't accept it
because my life is not like Christmas.
Ma'am, do you believe that my poverty
will come to an end simply by eating bread
on Christmas Day?
My father gives me something better
He tells me that Jesus is like me
And so, I can keep on
Living,
living,
living,
living,
living,
living,
living.
Dish Detergent
My last bottle of dish detergent smelled like ginger, the current one like kumquat. It doesn't foam much or cut through the peanut and sesame oils that cling stubbornly to plastic bowls, but the smells sure are fun.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Mid-Autumn Festival and National Day
Isabel told me last night that she wants to live in Macau. I reminded her that after we visited Costa Rica, she wanted to live there too. She said "I'll live three years in Macau, then three years in Costa Rica, and switch back and forth."
More than half a billion Chinese were on the road for the Mid-Autumn Festival which is today. Most traveled before Chinese National Day on October 1st. The official holiday goes from October 1st through October 8th. Did you see any of the parade in Beijing? The best part was the all female militia unit in red mini-skirts, white boots, white berets, white gloves and black SUBMACHINE GUNS.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Breakable Bones
After being in China for four weeks, the people in Macau struck me as a sturdy lot, certainly far sturdier than the many people in Shenzhen whose frames are so slight they could easily break. Their ancestors’ near starvation for hundreds of years etched famine in their descendants’ bones. Shenzhen is a city of migrants; nearly everyone is from someplace else. Even that genetic mix combined with Shenzhen’s status as a special economic zone for the past thirty years and second richest city in China hasn’t fattened up the general population.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Macau
Blogs are not blocked in Macau! I have quick, easy access without a VPN that disconnects irrationally. Yea.
After the kids had Chinese class this morning, we took the 1:30 ferry from Shekou Port in Shenzhen to Macau. Our hotel is called Pousada de Mong Ha. It's about half way up a hill towards the Fortress of Mong Ha which was built in anticipation of a Chinese invasion after the Anglo-Chinese War in 1841. The Pousada is run by the Institute for Tourism Studies which trains students in the tourism industry. All the students eagerly help. We ate dinner tonight in the Educational Restaurant. Sofia was a little nervous for the students when the teachers kept intervening to make sure they placed the napkins just so on our laps, and served the water just right, and cleared away the silverware that we wouldn't use for our particular dishes.
The food at the Educational Restaurant was excellent: homemade fettucine with truffles and parmesan (guess who got that?); African chicken with courgettes; roasted quail; bacalhao with potatoes and cream, a Portuguese dish made from dried cod fish; and baked sole. The good food almost made up for Jacek's three strikes last night at a western restaurant on campus in Shenzhen. He's going to blog about that, but suffice it to say that, in his words, his meat "tasted like sandpaper with disinfectant." I tried it too. Bad. Very, very bad. Inedible.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, however, could taste as bad as the poison candy our neighbor gave Sofia on Monday at Lakefront Fairyland's celebration of the 60th anniversary of the founding of the Chinese Republic and the mid-autumn festival all rolled into one. (Lakefront Fairyland is the name of our apartment complex.) Sofia warned Stirling the candy was bad, but he tasted it anyway. Then I did. We didn't vomit, but I wanted too. Rat poison could not be worse. Just now, in a neighborhood market here in Macau, we saw some candy wrappers with the same fruit on them. Do not ever eat durian fruit candy. Not even to save your life. Jon Winokur in a travel book described the odor of durian fruit -- and I would add taste -- as “pig-@*%#, turpentine and onions, garnished with a gym sock." The Oxford Companion to Food analogizes the smell to "civet, sewage, stale vomit, skunk spray and used surgical swabs." Just think, they make a candy out of that.
After the kids had Chinese class this morning, we took the 1:30 ferry from Shekou Port in Shenzhen to Macau. Our hotel is called Pousada de Mong Ha. It's about half way up a hill towards the Fortress of Mong Ha which was built in anticipation of a Chinese invasion after the Anglo-Chinese War in 1841. The Pousada is run by the Institute for Tourism Studies which trains students in the tourism industry. All the students eagerly help. We ate dinner tonight in the Educational Restaurant. Sofia was a little nervous for the students when the teachers kept intervening to make sure they placed the napkins just so on our laps, and served the water just right, and cleared away the silverware that we wouldn't use for our particular dishes.
The food at the Educational Restaurant was excellent: homemade fettucine with truffles and parmesan (guess who got that?); African chicken with courgettes; roasted quail; bacalhao with potatoes and cream, a Portuguese dish made from dried cod fish; and baked sole. The good food almost made up for Jacek's three strikes last night at a western restaurant on campus in Shenzhen. He's going to blog about that, but suffice it to say that, in his words, his meat "tasted like sandpaper with disinfectant." I tried it too. Bad. Very, very bad. Inedible.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, however, could taste as bad as the poison candy our neighbor gave Sofia on Monday at Lakefront Fairyland's celebration of the 60th anniversary of the founding of the Chinese Republic and the mid-autumn festival all rolled into one. (Lakefront Fairyland is the name of our apartment complex.) Sofia warned Stirling the candy was bad, but he tasted it anyway. Then I did. We didn't vomit, but I wanted too. Rat poison could not be worse. Just now, in a neighborhood market here in Macau, we saw some candy wrappers with the same fruit on them. Do not ever eat durian fruit candy. Not even to save your life. Jon Winokur in a travel book described the odor of durian fruit -- and I would add taste -- as “pig-@*%#, turpentine and onions, garnished with a gym sock." The Oxford Companion to Food analogizes the smell to "civet, sewage, stale vomit, skunk spray and used surgical swabs." Just think, they make a candy out of that.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Yes Pork, No Box
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
I don’t have access to the blog or email tonight.
Isabel and I needed our Chinese-speaking family members today at lunch. She had Chinese class today on campus, but Sofia and Jacek stayed at the apartment to do other homework because their Chinese teacher had a family wedding to attend. Isabel and I made it to our regular eating spot, the dirt cheap second floor cafeteria, just a few minutes after it closed at 1:00. We went instead to a new Hong Kong style café just down the row. The food was good, but there were complications. I tried to order the baked rice with eggplant and pork but without the pork. The menu was in Chinese and English and the waiter nodded and smiled when I pointed to what I wanted and said “but no pork” several times. It arrived with a pork sauce on top. I had hoped for a successful vegetarian dish so I could let Sofia know about it, but no go.
Isabel ordered a delicious plate of spaghetti with meat sauce. She loved it, but it was too big to eat all at once. We called the waiter over and pantomimed putting the rest of her beloved spaghetti in a box for us to take home. He smiled and nodded again and took the plate to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he sent the bus girl over to clean up the table. We waited. He stood watching us then went back to the kitchen. We waited. Finally, I said to Isabel, “Let’s go check.” He was standing at the front counter. We pantomimed again putting the beloved spaghetti into a box. He glanced at the kitchen, back at us, then strode back into the kitchen again. When he came out, he just stood there staring at us. Taking a deep breath, he said something in Chinese to another waiter who pantomimed the disposal of the beloved spaghetti into the garbage can. Oh well. Maybe next time we’ll learn to say “box.” I wouldn’t dare try to say “doggy bag.” Who knows what that would get us.
I don’t have access to the blog or email tonight.
Isabel and I needed our Chinese-speaking family members today at lunch. She had Chinese class today on campus, but Sofia and Jacek stayed at the apartment to do other homework because their Chinese teacher had a family wedding to attend. Isabel and I made it to our regular eating spot, the dirt cheap second floor cafeteria, just a few minutes after it closed at 1:00. We went instead to a new Hong Kong style café just down the row. The food was good, but there were complications. I tried to order the baked rice with eggplant and pork but without the pork. The menu was in Chinese and English and the waiter nodded and smiled when I pointed to what I wanted and said “but no pork” several times. It arrived with a pork sauce on top. I had hoped for a successful vegetarian dish so I could let Sofia know about it, but no go.
Isabel ordered a delicious plate of spaghetti with meat sauce. She loved it, but it was too big to eat all at once. We called the waiter over and pantomimed putting the rest of her beloved spaghetti in a box for us to take home. He smiled and nodded again and took the plate to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he sent the bus girl over to clean up the table. We waited. He stood watching us then went back to the kitchen. We waited. Finally, I said to Isabel, “Let’s go check.” He was standing at the front counter. We pantomimed again putting the beloved spaghetti into a box. He glanced at the kitchen, back at us, then strode back into the kitchen again. When he came out, he just stood there staring at us. Taking a deep breath, he said something in Chinese to another waiter who pantomimed the disposal of the beloved spaghetti into the garbage can. Oh well. Maybe next time we’ll learn to say “box.” I wouldn’t dare try to say “doggy bag.” Who knows what that would get us.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Jacek at the Mid-Autumn Festival Party
Jacek recited a poem about the Mid-Autumn Festival (October 3) at the School of Transnational Law's party on Wednesday evening.
DaFen Oil Painting Village
Yesterday, we went to Dafen Village, which isn't separate from Shenzhen but its own little enclave towards the western side of the city. Dafen is an oil painting village. Shop after shop after shop sells oil paintings, many of which are copies of famous paintings such as the Mona Lisa, others are of andscapes, and many are paintings of famous people like Alan Greenspan, Marilyn Monroe, Penelope Cruz, Che Guevara, and Barack Obama. A few shops sold what I would call "original art" rather than copied art or copied styles. Occasional shops sold paintings done in acrylics or silk embroidery or cloissone or water colors. The further away from the main entrance, the smaller the streets and the shops got. Some turned to selling the raw materials for painting or framing or stretching canvases on wooden frames. Sofia found an ity bitty funky clothes store and bargained her way into a pair of red flowered pants (wait until you see them!) and some knee-length puffy pants.
We arranged for a driver from the University to take us to church today. It took 45 minutes to get to church and 20 minutes to get home. Thats a little more than an hour of travel rather than our usual three plus hours. Whatever it cost, it was worth every penny to enjoy a quieter more relaxed Sunday.
I'm an excellent horse and a fine climbing tree. I substituted in nursery which helped me feel right at home as that is my home ward calling. Ten kids rode my back, climbed my legs, poured water back and forth between their cups and smashed play dough for a fun two hours.
We arranged for a driver from the University to take us to church today. It took 45 minutes to get to church and 20 minutes to get home. Thats a little more than an hour of travel rather than our usual three plus hours. Whatever it cost, it was worth every penny to enjoy a quieter more relaxed Sunday.
I'm an excellent horse and a fine climbing tree. I substituted in nursery which helped me feel right at home as that is my home ward calling. Ten kids rode my back, climbed my legs, poured water back and forth between their cups and smashed play dough for a fun two hours.
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