Cultural event

The business that invited me to this country (you need an inviter for visa purposes) asked me to attend a charity event today. I was asked to prepare an English poem to read at the event. I had no idea what this event was all about, but of course I would cooperate!

I somehow expected it to be a fundraiser. Don't charities always need money? If you need money, you ask as many people as you can to attend. So I expected 100 people or so. Fifty minimum.

When only 11 people showed up and some of them didn't look old enough to be making much money, I worried. Would I be viewed as a rich foreigner who would donate all I own to make their charity a success? Awkward!

A couple of young ladies were sent to be with me at the event. I wanted to ask them about the purpose of the event, but if I asked, then they might think I was complaining, and they would be embarrassed. So I just sat back quietly and played along.

We all sat at a long table with Chinese tea cups and nuts for snacks. We were inside an exquisitely decorated traditional Chinese tea and furniture shop. 

As it turns out, charity is a bad translation for what this group is all about. The group exists to help preserve Chinese culture through sharing poems, playing traditional Chinese musical instruments, sharing photography, and engaging in other arts. Obviously my English poem is not preserving Chinese culture, but hey, they asked for it, not me!

In attendance were teachers, musicians, photographers, and a TV producer. Three of four of those present read Chinese poems. Three played musical instruments. One guy showed his photographs on a flat-screen TV.

The only man present read a long poem. It must have lasted 6 or 7 minutes. He was speaking dramatically as he read the poem. He was halfway through the poem when his phone rang.

He reached over to turn it off.

Except he didn't turn it off, he answered it and had a conversation in front of all us in the middle of his poem! It would be like if you were at church and in the middle of the sermon the pastor's phone rang, he answered it and had a conversation in front of the entire church. 

The organizer lady looked mortified, not so much for herself, but for fear that their foreign guest (me) would think them crude. I just smiled sweetly as if I hadn't noticed. It makes no difference to me really, except it is a little humorous. It's not her fault. People just do things and you never know what's going to happen. 

I had an enjoyable afternoon, and no one asked me for money. I consider that an overall win!

When it was over, we could stay and talk or we could leave. I asked the two young women with me if it was okay to leave. One of them, age 24, did everything but roll her eyes. She said she was not middle aged and she just wasn't "getting the feeling." Chinese culture means nothing to her. I suppose that's why the group feels the need to exist, to preserve what many care nothing about anymore.

  

Traditional Chinese paint brushes on a stand

Beautiful Chinese chess set

Part of the group; I love the lights

Traditional Chinese music instrument

The organizer

More of the group

The grass probably really is greener on the other side

Most summers, it rains a lot due to typhoons. The grass gets really high and is seldom mowed. I measured last year and the piece of grass I chose to measure was 5 feet long. No kidding. The mowers were hired to cut grass once a month at most, and sometimes it was less frequent than that. Mimi would go walking in the tall grass and would disappear from sight.

This year, they mowed the grass once in May, and then we had a heat wave. The grass appeared to have died and everything became like dust. There was nothing to mow. The bald spots on the lawn made me sad because I felt it was unlikely they would plant new grass in its place.

Then in the last week or so, we've had some rain and the dirt spots are filling in with grass the color of spring green. It didn't die after all, it just was hiding out under the dirt!

The photo above shows their method of mowing the grass. They use weed eaters to cut the grass in the entire apartment complex. It gives the lawn an uneven burr haircut. And many times they fail to pick up and bag the long cut grass, so it smothers the grass underneath it. 

Chinese people don't have their own personal lawns, and those who are not maintenance workers have never had to mow a blade of grass in their lives. It's not quite an art form here. They are magnificently artistic at landscaping with trees, rocks, flowers, etc., it's just the actual grass part that suffers from inattention. 

Every now and then I get a yearning to take over the lawn at my apartment complex; I think I would enjoy making it look nice. But then a nap beckons me and I get over it quickly. They wouldn't let me do it anyway.

Location services needed

I turned on my iPad location services so Google Earth could tell me where on earth I was. The good news is that I am on earth. I wasn't sure there for a day or two. I am in some remote place, one of the most backward places I have been in the past ten years or so. It's a place where you can pet a cat while shopping for umbrellas at the market, where you can get breakfast for 16 cents, and where it is possible for a sidewalk pool table to become an actual, well, pool. We've been walking through lots of puddles, because the only public transportation that runs through town is Bus No. 11 (the two strokes of the number 11 representing our own two legs, that is). From the looks we're getting, white people don't walk these streets often.

The housekeeper at the hotel insisted that sweeping up the dead cockroach in my room was not part of her duties, as a dead cockroach laying in my room for another week wouldn't hurt anything. I insisted it become part of her job, and she went over and picked up the dead bug with her bare fingers. I had in mind she sweep it up into the dustpan, but, you know, whatever.

Sometimes I wonder if Twilight Zone is secretly filming my life for a new episode.

And by "sometimes," I mean right now.

I'm mentoring some college students this week. The variety of experiences I get to encounter in my life is a good thing, but I'm missing my little white fuzz ball that is usually underfoot.

This is just wrong

In the above poor-quality photo of my hotel room, can you spot what is wrong?

Skeered

While waiting at a red light, I saw these two guys repairing a billboard (see top of photo). They were sitting on a pipe that held up the lights. They wore no safety harnesses. The ladder was a long way from where they were seated in this photo. There were no safety rails to hang on to as they made their way back to the ladder. If they leaned back or lost their balance, they would fall onto the pavement, possibly onto e-bike riders. I made sure to dodge them as I drove underneath the overpass where they worked.

Safety standards here are ridiculously lacking. I often see window washers hanging off of high-rise buildings held by only a rope around their waists. Air-conditioner repairmen hang on to the sides of high-rise apartment buildings to put the a/c units in place.

If I see something bad, not only will it be a tragedy for those involved, but it will be traumatically etched into my brain forever. I can't change their way of doing things, so I close the curtains or turn the other way.

OSHA may have a mind-numbing array of safety regulations, and sometimes we may complain, but if you could see what I see on a daily basis, you'd certainly appreciate this one bit of government bureaucracy that looks out for your well-being.

To be sure, the employees assigned these dangerous tasks are scared. But their employers demand they do the work and don't provide any safety measures to them. The employees have to feed their families, and jobs are scarce. May the Lord have mercy on them.

Where you would least expect it

This lovely stained glass that says "Risen Lord" in two languages was spotted at a church in China ... in the stall inside a woman's restroom. Each stall had a pretty window similar to this in it. Odd placement, yet a lovely and inspiring reminder.

Domestic disturbance

Every evening when I take Mimi for her bedtime pitstop on the grass downstairs, we walk on the sidewalk past a building where there is often noise -- screaming in fact. A family lives on the second floor of a ten-floor building and consists of a man, a woman and a child. Other people may reside with them too, but of these three I am sure. They don't have curtains (or at least they are not closed most of the time), the windows are huge, and as is common in these parts, I can see clearly and directly into their apartment -- especially at night when their interior lights are on.

The woman of the house is the screamer. She yells at her husband as he sits at his computer and ignores her. She yells at her child, a son who appears to be about 10 or 11 years old. He ignores her just like her husband does, but she follows the child from room to room, screaming at the top of her lungs. No one in her house can do anything right, and she yells unceasingly. Every single day, even though I vary the time of the nighttime walk, she is yelling. There is no peace in that home. How can they stand it? I can't even stand it, and my exposure to it is small compared to those who live under the same roof as her.

A few months ago though, I noticed it stopped. I wondered what miraculous dramatic change could have possibly silenced the screeching complaints of that miserable mom.

But tonight, as I was walking by, I discovered she was at it again. 

Alas, it seems it never really stopped. 

The weather is really hot now, and everyone has their apartment windows and balcony sliding doors open to catch a breeze. During the winter, their windows were shut and I didn't hear the yelling.

Too bad. Because they really and truly do need a miracle over there.

Classy street style, Beijing

A man of culture on the streets of Beijing.

Or maybe not.

A cat named Rover

Suppose a foreigner moved to America, bought a cat, and named him Rover.

This foreigner named his cat Rover, because his parents back in his own country had two cats named Dover and Bover, and he wanted to continue to "Ver" family tradition of pet-naming. Besides, many people in America named their own cats with "Ver" names too. You know, like Lover and Hover. (Okay, my example seems to be falling apart about right now. Try to hang in there with me though, I'm not finished.)

And let's suppose that none of his American acquaintances had a sense of humor. They were overly serious and thought this foreigner was off his rocker. Because Rover is a dog's name, not a cat's name. Dumb foreigner.

Can you see where I am going with this?

In China, Mimi is a name for cats.

Well how was I supposed to know?!!!!!

I bought the little ball of fur from a box on the side of the road in 2005 and took her home. Within an hour she knew her name. My parents had two dogs, Beebee (RIP, beloved doggy) and Koko. And Chinese people gave their own dogs names with repeated syllables. I thought Mimi would be an easy name for Chinese people to pronounce, as it kind of sounds like the word for rice.

At that time Mimi was the size of a Coke can and hadn't had her shots. It would be two months before the little beauty knew that the great outdoors existed. I couldn't risk her getting parvo by letting her out. So we bonded over her name inside my apartment.

But soon enough, we made friends with the great outdoors. And that's when I found out from my neighbors that "Mimi" is what people call cats.

So I smoothed things over by telling everyone that Mimi is an English name, a woman's name. Most people were cool with that.

But TODAY, a woman in my apartment complex with absolutely no common sense, and certainly no sense of humor, suggested that I change my 8-year-old dog's name to a Chinese name! Is she crazy? Do you think my dog is going to be like a Chinese college student that has a Chinese name and an English name both?

No. Absolutely not. My dog is awesome. And her name is Mimi. Forever.

Sheesh.

The Big C

Whoever said everything is bigger in Texas probably had never been to China. Because whether we like to admit it or not, everything is bigger in China. Even if it doesn't need to be, it is, just so they can say it is. Texans and Chinese have a lot in common in this way. Here in the Big C, big red sculpture-like thingamajigs are pretty popular. I like this one in the middle of the roundabout intersection. And below you can see that the overachieving landscapers planted pretty flowers there too.

Dragonfly

It smells like sandalwood, and relaxing flute music plays over the speakers. 

You can get a manicure, pedicure, eyebrow wax or massage.

You walk in by crossing a bridge with water running underneath it like a pond.

I could live at this place.

Apparently the sinks don't get scrubbed often at this place. Those rocks are permanently glued in. 

Asia at its best.

Pajama lady

Last October, I told you about people here wearing pajamas in public. I didn't have a photo to show you at the time, because I didn't want to embarrass people here by overtly taking photos of them in their pj's. But the other day I was at the park and finally got a non-invasive, non-blurry shot of a lady wearing hers. Hers are thick white flannel pajamas with pink whales on them. They don't look as much like pajamas as some I've seen, but yes, these are most definitely pajamas. The person behind her is wearing a sweat suit. 

I may or may not have worn my pajamas to walk my dog inside my apartment grounds early one morning last week, but with a heavy winter coat covering them up, who can know for sure?! :-)

My friend's wedding, part two

Here is my friend, the bride. It is traditional for brides to wear a red qipao (chee-pow: slim-fitting Chinese style dress) for their weddings, though many modern brides rent a white dress for the day or have a change of several outfits. This bride wore black. I didn't expect to see this.

Most weddings have some kind of comedic ceremony prior to the banquet, but if this wedding had one, I somehow missed it. It was suddenly time to eat.

The entire house was filled with tables, saw horses, and wooden tables covered in thin red plastic table cloths.

The bride and I share a group of friends, but none of them were there at the wedding. This confused me. I sat at a table with total strangers, none of whom spoke a lick of  English. They treated me like an old friend though. One woman was a travel agent. She had her grandson with her. At one point she took a plate of rare and delicious pecans, and asked me if I wanted one. When I said no, I meant "not right now." But when she dumped the entire plate of pecans in her handbag to eat later, I realized that I had missed my chance.

They passed around the thermos of hot water as the dishes kept coming one after another. There were probably 20 dishes total, most of them unrecognizable (and I've been in this country a long time, so you would think I had seen it all by now).

Notice the red plastic on the wall behind the men. The hosts are protecting their white walls from food stains. Notice also that everyone is wearing their thick down coats, because the house was really cold inside. I had dressed for a hotel, not a village, so I was shivering from the cold.

I've sat on saw horses in churches here before. Imagine sitting through a two-hour sermon on one of these things.

I actually recognize this dish, but I've never eaten it before in this form. I grew up in a desert and we didn't have much seafood. When I was older and got around seafood, I already had developed a negative opinion towards it. Who wants to eat that ugly thing?

The groom sat at a table with some other guys who were making him miserable. Apparently it is a sport to humiliate the groom on his wedding day. They are trying to make him drunk, and he has to play along or be considered rude. He looked seriously unhappy all day.

The drinking games are noisy. 

The entryway had beautiful traditional furniture. It also had thin red carpet to keep the floors protected from the guests.

            

Each guest was given a heart-shaped box with little wrapped chocolate candy pieces. I was glad for the calories, because I didn't get enough from the expensive, unfamiliar food on our table.

While they were still bringing dishes to the table, my ride announced that the wedding was over and it was time to go. Fine with me. We walked out of the village home towards the car, and on the way saw two other mansions packed with people and decorated for the wedding. They had used three homes for the wedding party. 

And then, I about fell over in shock when I found out that today was DAY #5 of the wedding! Today had the most people (by a little), but this was the fifth day of wedding banquets. Maybe our group of friends had attended on another day? Is this why there was no lighthearted ceremony? Is this why the bride wore black (she wore different clothes each day, I found out). 

They must have fed over 1000 people in the past five days. I can't imagine even wanting to do something like this unless it was a hunger relief project or something. I've never understood the desire for big weddings. In any country.

I had a wedding gift in my bag, but forgot to give it to the bride before I left. I sent her a message a few days ago telling her I had something to give her. She said she had just returned from a trip to Thailand (honeymoon, I presume). 

Well, there you have it! All weddings are different. I've never been to one quite like this one before, and probably never will again. So glad I saw this one.

A friend's wedding, part one

I was invited to a wedding a few weeks ago. A friend of mine called me on a Sunday afternoon and invited me to her wedding the following weekend. I didn't know she had a boyfriend (none of the others in her group of friends knew either). So we were surprised. But it is not a surprise that we were surprised. People around here keep things to themselves. Even big things like that.

Since the wedding would be in her hometown an hour away, and she didn't want me to suffer on the public bus that would manage to make the one-hour car trip into 2-3 hour bus ride, she arranged a ride for me with one of her friends. 

I was worried her friend would drive too fast. He didn't drive fast, but he did stop in the middle of a highway a couple of times -- even backing up once -- because he wasn't sure which exit to take. Nearly had a heart attack when he did that!

I expected the ceremony to be held in a hotel like most of them are. There are two broad categories of weddings. City weddings held in hotel banquet halls and village weddings held in the home village. I was surprised when we drove into a neighborhood that looked like this.

Turns out, this is the girl's home "village." It was a village wedding.

Here is the gate to her village. The two "scientists" (one an engineer, one a lab worker) with whom I rode to the event are about to enter. 

 Here's the view from the front gate.

The big black cauldrons sat outside the front gate. The multipurpose food cookers/glove warmers look a little out of place in the fancy neighborhood. Looks a bit Granny Clampett-like. Made me smile.

I hate the mere sight of these firecracker strings. It portends future discomfort for my ears.

Water sloshed all over the entry walkway is a clue that despite the luxurious exterior, this really is a village. I found out that the government took the valuable land these farmers owned and in exchange built them these huge houses. Made of concrete with no insulation, the houses are just big empty concrete vaults. The furnishings inside are generally not up to the same standard as the house. Look how closely together this concrete mansion is to the next door neighbor's. You may or may not be able to put a 12-inch ruler between the two.

This kitchen is right by the main gate ... not inside the house itself. In Chinese villages, it is typical to have the kitchen separate from the main house. And to leave the energy efficiency sticker on the refrigerator forever.

When I got inside the house, the bride's mother decided I should walk up to the third floor to see the bride's bedroom. I'm not sure why that was so important. Maybe because I was the only foreigner at the wedding, I would be less of a distraction tucked away on the upper floor.

So here's the bride's bedroom. The bedding is a gift (probably from the groom's family to the bride, I'm not sure). Those big dolls wouldn't likely be a part of an American wedding. 

Here are a few cold dishes that would be served during the wedding feast. There were 40 tables with six people each, or so I was told. I didn't actually count.

This is the room on the 3rd floor where the bride and groom's parents would eat the wedding banquet separate from the other guests. The furniture in this room was exquisite and expensive. The rest of us sat on saw horses. After all, this is a village wedding, and no one expected them to have 240 individual chairs for their guests.

The symbol for double happiness was cut out of red paper and pasted on the windows. Double happiness signifies a wedding.

On the third floor was a living room area where some women and children waited for the festivities to start. They watched Winnie the Pooh or some such program on the flat-screen TV up there near the bride's bedroom.

Here are photos of the bride and groom in hard-bound photo books that they had published prior to the wedding. These wedding photo shoots remind me of Glamour Shots, because the photographs look nothing like the actual people. When I finally met the groom, I didn't recognize him -- except for the build, he looked totally different than this photo of him. He had eyeglasses, a different hairdo, and different clothes as you might imagine. The clothes used for the photo shoot are borrowed from the photographer. The bride does not have a white dress for her wedding, it's all for the photos.

I'll tell you the rest in part two, coming soon.