Every Sunday we go to the Beijing branch of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, commonly called the Mormon Church.  There are 3 different branches that meet in the same building.  Our branch is for foreign passport holders that live within the city limits.  There is another branch that is for foreign passport holders that live outside the city limits, most of them living in a expat community called Shunyi.  Many foreigners with older children tend to live in Shunyi because that is where some of the best international schools are.  There is a third branch made entirely of Chinese nationals. 

There are approximately 200 members (including kids) in our congregation.  The other foreigner branch meet before us, and from what I’ve seen their size looks about comparable.  I have never seen a member of the Chinese branch.  I was told that we are not to have contact with them, and we should be out of the building before they begin their services.

My understanding is that the Chinese government has a concern over a non-government leadership structure that is based in another country.  I could understand their concern about people’s loyalties potentially conflicting between their religion and country. 

Printed on our program every week are the rules under which we are allowed to congregate in China.  At the start of each meeting, the branch President brings our attention to these rules and reminds us that we must abide by them.  The hope is that the Chinese government will recognize us as an obedient, law-abiding community that will be positive for the Chinese people.  And hopefully this recognition will lead to invitations to participate more fully within the native Chinese community as a religious organization.  I think I can safely say that is the hope of each LDS member in Beijing.  Long time members of our church have expressed that this hope is slowly being realized and policies are slowly opening up.  I took a picture of the rules as hopefully it will at some point be an interesting relic of this transition period.      

This last weekend, I learned an incredible lesson that I will never forget and will likely affect my thinking on wealth forever.  I was invited to our housekeeper, Luo’s house.  She asked Tenille why we kept inviting people to our home.  Tenille answered that is what we do with our friends.  The following week, she invited us to her home. 

Luo has been wonderful for our family.  She is one of two native Chinese people that we have grown very close to during our stay in China.  She has earned our trust with our kids, our most valued treasures, and our kids very much love Luo.  So, when we got this invitation to her home, we were excited to see how she lives.  She told us that she has a computer at home.  I assumed from that, that she probably lived in a lower end apartment complex. 

They live near the American Embassy.  Around the East side of the embassy, we walked by strips of buildings that were being torn down by construction machines.  Apparently, at the request of the American embassy.  Then we got to the end of the asphalt and continued on a dirt road into a complex made entirely of brick.  We walked past very loud speakers blaring music. Luo told us that the music sometimes plays until midnight, and people dance in the street. Seemed like a happy place to be. The roads quickly narrowed that a car could not fit through them.  There were a lot of people walking about and some people riding bikes through the narrow corridor.  She pointed at a small concrete box-looking building and said that was the shared toilet. Luo said many houses don’t have a bathroom so the bathroom is overused and stinky.

She turned a corner through a gate, and pointed to a doorway and told us, this is my house.  She had warned Tenille that we had probably never seen anything like her apartment, and she was right.  The doorway had strings hanging down to serve as a summer door.  The house was little more than a room.  The concrete floor does not change from outside to inside.  It was perhaps around the same size as our storage shed in Bothell - maybe  12 x 8 feet.   It was divided into two spaces - one for the parents, and one for their 9 year old daughter. 

In the daughter's space, there was a small bed (smaller than a twin.)  There was a small shelf with two bins of food supplies.  Luo said she keeps packets of milk and a little bit of bread and jam on hand for her daughter to snack on. Otherwise, she buys her food on the street or at markets on a daily basis.  There was a rice cooker and a water machine.  There was a fan and a computer on a small computer desk. 

Tenille later admitted that she couldn’t believe how poor her circumstances were, and it made her very sad.  She was fighting back the tears and covered up her emotions with compliments and understanding.  Luo was quite happy to show us around.

In the parent's area, you could only walk on one side of the bed.  The other 3 sides were touching a wall.  On the open side of the bed, there was a TV.  Some clothes hung above the bed.  Apparently, there were pictures over the walls, but Luo had ripped them down to clean it up for our visit.  I think she had meant to put something else up, but we came earlier than she expected, so she apologized that it looked so messy.

Her daughter was very polite and welcoming and instantly started taking care of Caleb.  She offered him some juice.  It was some Chinese equivalent of Tang and she had mixed it herself.  I had some sanitation concerns, but I felt it was more important to be gracious.  Caleb tried it and enjoyed it.  They had two apricots and a cherry.  Luo offered it all to Caleb.  He ate the cherry. 

They had a fan in each area, but the one in the parent's area was broken.  Luo showed us a window in her daughter's area that she had punched two holes in.  She said it's for the winter.  They burn charcoal in a tin can to keep warm, and they need ventilation.  The winters in Beijing are nothing like Seattle.  It gets frigid cold like in Salt Lake or Boston.   Her daughter sleeps together with them during the winters.

Luo's husband came home.  He greeted us enthusiastically and welcomed us.  He didn't speak any English, so it was a bit tough to communicate. 

Then Luo and her husband offered me a tie as a gift.  I had mailed a package for her in the United States a few weeks ago when I was back in the States.  She had asked how much I had to pay, but I told her that it wasn't a big deal as the amount was trivial.  The tie was a thank you for that.   Tenille gave her some indoor slippers and some chocolate.

Right outside their door was a a makeshift table with what looked like an old portable gas burner.  It had a wok on top.  When you look out into the courtyard, every family seemed to have this arrangement.  The courtyard was about 20 feet by 20 feet and there was a lot of activity among the 8 other families that lived in this compound.   The compound was two stories and surrounded the courtyard.  There was one communal faucet in the courtyard where a man was washing his chicken legs.   One lady was washing her hair in a bucket.  One man was cooking his chicken in his wok/burner setup.  Many of the women came up to us and were welcoming to the kids.  Some people asked Luo why she brought us here.  I think implied was the question, "aren't you embarrassed?"  Luo told us straight out that she was not embarrassed, but wanted to show us how she lives and thought that it was something we wouldn't normally get a chance to see.  She told us that the rent including all the utilities is about 400 kuai per month ($60). 

Then we went outside the courtyard and took a walk through her neighborhood.  There was a main strip of retail activity along a dirt path.  People were selling food, live chickens, toys, plastic buckets, and whatever else is necessary for everyday life in this neighborhood.  It was about 100 meters long.  Luo said she knew or at least recognized most of the people in the neighborhood.    On our way back, we saw a lady cut a live chicken and put it in a pot.  Maybe it's to let the blood drain? 

Then, we met her husband on the road and went out to the main street to catch a cab.  Andrew and I went in a cab with Luo's husband and their daughter.  Tenille went with Caleb and Luo.    In the cab, I talked with Luo's daughter who was quite good with English and wasn't as shy about using it.  She loves all her subjects at school and likes to read books and play basketball with her friends.  I told her my favorite food was chicken wings.  (This is the extent of my survival Chinese.)  I tried to pay for the cab fare, but Luo's husband would not let me.  He quickly handed the driver a 100, and that was that. 

We got to the restaurant and Tenille was already there.  When we sat down, I noticed it was a restaurant called Guolin which my coworker had recommended to me as good and affordable.  Luo was very concerned about everything - the table being near too many people, thus being too noisy, too much smoking, the food being spicy, the glasses not being clean enough, making sure we ordered food that we like, etc.   She was so concerned about being a perfect hostess.   We were all very touched by her thoughtfulness and reassured her over and over that everything was just fine.  Luo was very concerned that the food would not be suitable for Tenille because a lot of it was spicy.  We reassured her again and again that it would be fine, and we ate at restaurants like this all the time.  She kept insisting that we go to a more western friendly restaurant.  After several minutes of back and forth, we finally convinced her that we could stay.   

They insisted that we order, and I ordered 3 or 4 dishes that Tenille would like and were affordable.  Then they ordered.  We asked them to order things they like, but they kept asking what Tenille would like.  They ended up ordering a duck, fried mutton, and shrimp.  All very expensive (relatively).  At this point, I was sincerely hoping that we could pay for dinner.  It was way too much food, and there was considerable leftovers.  When we were done, I asked for the waitress and asked for the bill.  We found out that Luo had already paid for the dinner.  She said that I worked too hard, and she wanted an opportunity to take us out to dinner.  This was at least a 200 RMB meal.  Honestly, it's probably a bill that Tenille and I are accustomed to paying.  But, for Luo's family, this is half of their monthly rent.  If I were to pay for a meal that cost half of our rent, it would be a $600 meal.  I can’t remember doing that for anyone.

After the meal, they put us in a cab, and Tenille and I had a moment to reflect.  Of all of our time in China, this was probably our biggest lesson in unfairness.   We felt embarrassed, in some ways ashamed.  We reflected back to how often we have referred to our apartment as small.  We've seen people living in caves and small dwellings, but somehow it was different to see someone we considered our friend living in those meager conditions.   There were two big lessons that we took away from the experience.

Our immediate reaction was how can we help them.  But perhaps there in lies our own problem and a lesson for us.  Luo will get a bonus from us for the wonderful work she has done with our family, but this experience has probably taught us something much more important and valuable about wealth.  I’m not talking about the fluffy stuff about being wealthy in non-monetary things… like love in the home, health, and all that stuff.  That’s important, too – but I’m talking about true monetary wealth and how it should be measured. 

There are a few ways that people measure wealth:

1.  A person’s lifestyle

This is the way most Americans measure wealth.  Many Americans have a negative savings rate.  They are spending more than they bring in.  But, they are living a wealthy lifestyle with their iPhones and living in homes that their incomes can not sustain.  This is the most visible measure of wealth, although more often than not, it can not be sustained for long periods of time without dire consequences.

2.  A person’s net worth

This is how I’ve always measured wealth.  The bigger your net worth, the wealthier you are.  Many that are financially savvy tend to measure wealth this way also.  Wikipedia defines wealth as net worth.

So, the odd thing is that I look at how Luo is living and realize that I’m incredibly wealthy comparatively with respect to net worth.  Then how come we don’t feel incredibly wealthy?  I was offered the following definition of wealth which very much resonated with me.

3.  A person’s net worth divided by their expenditure to support an acceptable lifestyle

If I thought that living Luo’s lifestyle was acceptable for me and my family, I would truly be incredibly wealthy.  I could likely sustain that life style merely on the interest I earn every year.  That’s wealthy.  The irony is that using this measure of wealth the more modest we choose to live our lives, the wealthier we become.  Another way to say this is, how long can you go living your acceptable lifestyle on your assets before you run out of money.  If your answer is forever, you’re done. 

I’ve always thought that I needed a higher paying job to become rich.  The funny thing is, I can just become rich by being happy with less (and convincing my wife likewise).  [That last note was an AND not an OR]  I can become REALLY rich by being happy with VERY little.  Conversely, you can be very poor by never being satisfied with what you’ve got.

In our church, this message is drilled into us constantly through counsel to live modestly and within our means.  However, in the thick of the battle, it’s often difficult not to compare with the neighbors and make purchases, vacation plans, etc, that seem in line with what our peers are doing.  This quick visit to our good friend’s home was a life changer.  We can obviously live on a lot less and be perfectly happy.

It has sparked a discussion about what we can get down to, and what is non-negotiable.  For me, healthcare and my children’s education are non-negotiable.  Providing these things in the United States does put a high bottom on how low we can go.  But, it has sparked good discussion on everything else.  For instance, I’m very much willing to change my eating out habits so that I can be filthy rich.

The second lesson we learned is about kindness and generosity.  In some ways, I am reminded of the story of the widows mite.  Luo doesn’t have much, but she just about gave us her all as she hosted us.  And you could tell she cared for us and loved us with everything she did and said.  She has set a bar that almost seems impossible in terms of expressing her generosity and friendship toward us.  Tenille and I were later thinking, “what would we have to do, to match what she just did for us?”

We can only pray that the experience will take seed in our own hearts, that we may emulate her kindness and generosity throughout our own lives – to her and others we befriend along the way.

Chengde (not to be confused with Chengdu) is a mountain resort city about 4 hours away from Beijing by train.  As Tenille was planning out another packed itinerary for her parents visit to Beijing, I suggested taking a train somewhere for a true Chinese experience.  There’s only so many palaces and cheap shopping complexes you can go to (or should go to.) 

I don’t want to say a four hour train ride with two little kids was a bad idea, but everyone was brainstorming ways to NOT take the train back when we arrived in Chengde.  It’s possible that waking up at 4:30am to catch a 6am train had everyone a bit edgier than normal (including the kids).  Or it could have been the musical chairs that everyone plays for the first 15 minutes of the train ride.  Apparently, in the Chinese train system, they just issue you the next available 6 tickets, regardless of how they are grouped.  The soft seats were grouped in foursomes with two two-seaters facing toward each other with a table in between.  But, with a group of six, half of you could be in one foursome, and the other half in another.  If you are a pair, you could be split up between two foursomes.  So, the first 15 minutes consist of families regrouping each other.  Fortunately, the Chinese people are quite accommodating to us and each other and it seemed like everyone made their best efforts to unite their traveling parties.  One saving factor was that we did have a good McDonald’s breakfast.   Tenille’s mom and dad had a big breakfast with pancakes.  I thought I’d try something exotic and had a pork filet sandwich.  (Kind of like a McChicken… but a McPork, I guess.)  Although we all scoffed at the fact that we were eating McDonald’s, I think Tenille’s parents (and Tenille) were grateful we were eating something familiar and recognizable.

Arriving in Chengde reminded me a lot of coming to Beijing for the first time.  Except we were armed with a little bit of Mandarin ability.  By armed, I’m talking maybe a slingshot, or a dull club…. sharp stick?  Everything was unfamiliar.  We started walking down the street from the train station wondering where we needed to catch a cab.  Luckily, a lady (perhaps moved by our pathetic, helpless looks on our faces) stopped to try and help us.  She spoke a little bit of English and we asked in our best Chinese if she knew where our hotel was.  She tried to describe where it was in Chinese, but in the end hailed a cab for us.  I do have to comment that every single native person we had interaction with in Chengde was very kind to us, often going out of their way to help us or accommodate us. 

The taxis seemed to be about 80% of the size of Beijing taxis which I think are already smaller than the big cars we are used to in the States.  They didn’t use the meters.  They just told us the price they’re going to charge us and we paid them.  Nobody charged us more than 15 RMB the entire time we were there ($2).  We managed to fit our family of 6 (+ driver), and they drove us to the hotel.  The Hotel spoke minimal English.  We asked where we could eat something.  They pointed to the hotel restaurant.  Not wanting to pay Hotel prices, we wandered out into the street in search of our first Chengde meal.  First thing that caught our eye  (mostly because it was the only thing we could read) – McDonalds.  We noted it as a last resort backup and continued our adventure through the streets of Chengde.  We walked by a bunch of fruit stands and side street vendors selling unrecognizable foods.  We walked past several restaurants that looked like there was 0% chance they had English menus.  We came upon a store with piles of roasted chickens and other miscellaneous meats that we could see through the window.  We walked in and felt the heat of the food warmers and the meat smell overwhelm us.  It was clear that we were not going to eat here by the look on Tenille and her mom’s face.   

Finally, Tenille piped up that she was getting hungry and hinted that we should walk back to McDonald’s.  Tenille’s father still thirsting for a bit more adventure suggested that we walk around to the next corner.  We got to the corner and found a bakery.  Apparently, it wasn’t lunch-worthy food, so we finally decided to head back to McDonald’s.  As an American, it may seem a bit ridiculous that we’d be eating McDonald’s twice in one day when there’s presumably all this great Chinese food around.   I won’t take time to fully justify myself, but encourage those that are looking down their nose to try out a country where you can’t read or understand the language, nor comfortable with the food handling standards, and see if the sight of an American corporate franchise (i.e. McDonald’s) brings a small sense of relief. 

After gorging on some good ol’ Americana, we continued to the Summer Resort complex.  Most of Chengde geographically is covered by this resort.  The resort was built by a Chinese emperor as a summer get-away in the mountains where the weather is a bit cooler.  It sprinkled rain most of the time we were there, but it was still beautiful.  The place was enormous and about a third of it was covered with lakes.  We could have taken an hour long, 11 km bus ride around half of the complex, but decided to walk instead.    It was nice.  It was crowded.  It reminded me of the summer palace in Beijing.  I have to admit that I was thinking, “we rode 4 hours on a train to see another Imperial summer resort.”   (Tenille just told me that this summer resort was her parent’s favorite part of the trip, so apparently it was good that we went!)    We did rent an electric boat and putted around on the enormous chain of lakes.  I have to admit that it was fun to see Caleb drive the boat around for a while.  It was also nice because the boats had a cover and it kept us out of the rain. 

We caught a taxi back to the hotel and opted to have dinner in the Hotel, as we obviously could not find a reasonable alternative on the streets.  When we arrived in the restaurant, there was nobody there except a few waiters.  They seated us in the middle of an enormous dining room.   The size of the dining room merely accentuated the fact that we were the only people there.  In general, I have a rule about eating at restaurants where we are the only patrons.  (I leave and find another restaurant.)  However, we were really out of options and we were admittedly a bit early.  Having no choice, we sat down.  The odd thing was that they did not give us any menus.  Tenille asked for some menus.  They said a bunch of things in Chinese, and did not give us menus.  We thought that perhaps this might be a buffet as we saw a bunch of food warmers to the side of the restaurant.  We waited.  Nothing was happening.  I went up this time, and asked for some menus in my best Chinese.  He said a bunch of things and smiled.  I told him I didn’t understand.  He said slowly and deliberately, “Tuan dui.  Tuan dui.”  (I gave him my “I don’t understand” blank stare.)  He asked me to wait.  I smiled and sat back down.  Mission failed.  We noticed that a Chinese couple came in and sat down in the restaurant.   Strange – they got menus.   After another 5 minutes, something odd happened.  Food started coming out.  Not out to the buffet tables.  Out to our table.  How could this be possible?  How do they know what we want?  And an even better question, “how much is this going to cost?”  As they started putting dishes of miscellaneous chinese food at our table, Tenille and I both started a rant of incomprehensible Chinese to our waiter.  This must have not played out as the waiter had imagined, as he quickly told us to wait and ran away.  Within minutes, a lady appeared and spoke a bit of English to us.  I asked her where this food was coming from as we had not yet ordered.  After some back and forth, I think we figured out that there was another party of Americans or foreigners, who I assume had reservations at this restaurant.  We think we know who they were, because we saw them on the train, then they appeared at the hotel (and we saw them in the same train going back home, too.)  (Which was all a bit of a coincidence as there are several nice hotels in Chengde, and there were probably 20-30 cars on the train.)  Once we figured out that we were not the foreigners they were expecting, we got menus and we were able to order.  A little pricey for Chinese food, but it was quite good.

After eating and overeating, we returned to our rooms and hit the hay.  This bed was by far the hardest bed I’ve ever slept on in my life.  It was as if they took a piece of plywood and then chemically treated to make it even harder.  Then they put a thin sheet over it (perhaps so we don’t get splinters or get a rash from the chemical treatment.)  Luckily, I had enough body fat to compensate and surprisingly got a reasonable night’s rest.

The next morning, we gathered up the troops and went to the bakery we found the previous day.  We each got 2 or 3 things because you never really know what you’re getting sometimes. 

We headed to the Putuo Zongcheng Buddhist Temple which was completed in 1771, just about the time the American revolution was about to gain steam.  It’s built into a hillside and is quite impressive.  It seemed like we wound up an endless number of stair cases to reach the top.  Along the way were statues of Buddha, Pagodas, an open air theater, paintings, pottery, and all sorts of artifacts.  Just as we got to the very tippie top, it started raining.  We joined the throngs of Chinese people as they made their way back down the endless sets of staircases to the bottom. 

If I had known how many stairs we were going to have to climb, I would have paid the $3 for a ride to the top!

Prayer Scrolls

Dad at the entrance of the temple

Almost there.....

The view from the top was worth the climb!  Awesome!  The wall in the distance is the wall surrounding the Mountain Resort.

Caleb as royalty.

Many buildings, many stairs, many beautiful things

The yellow roof signifies royalty as this is a temple where the emporer would go to worship.

After the temple, we hopped in a cab, and just for good measure made one more stop at McDonald’s.  We got back on the train, played our 15 minutes of musical chairs until everyone got in their optimal seating arrangements, then headed back home.  Since our train ride home was in the middle of the afternoon, we were all in a bit more of a sociable mood and played several card games.  Caleb was quite good at Uno (that we approximated with a normal deck of playing cards).  I’ll probably get a deck of real Uno cards sometime soon for him.

These two ladies were awesome!  They entertained Caleb and Andrew for a couple of hours on the train ride back to Beijing. 

I imagine Tenille’s parents will likely remember the difficulty we had getting around more than the sights that we saw.  It’s hard to forget the feeling of helplessness when you can’t communicate or read anything.  Overall, I thought it was a great experience and a great reminder of how difficult things were when we first arrived in Beijing.  I didn’t really even think about how difficult it would be in a new city with relatively little foreigners.  I suppose that could be a testament to how far we’ve come along… or how over-confident we’ve become.

Last weekend, we took a train trip to Xi’an with the Robinson’s.  Xi’an is a large city in the central part of China.  Thousands of years ago, this region was the capital of China.  One emperor (that is known to be the first to unify China under single rule) built his own tomb.  He surrounded the tomb with hundreds (if not thousands) of life-size clay warriors.  They are known in English  as the Terra-Cotta warriors.  As with any Chinese capital city, this city, too, was sacked by invaders and the tomb was long forgotten.  It was only in 1974 that a farmer digging a well discovered a piece of one of these warriors.  When the archaeologists arrived to dig through the rest of the field, they found hundreds of these warriors.  They were dressed in battle regalia, some charioteers, some calvalry, and many just foot soldiers.  Apparently, these statues are studied to give us answers about ancient China.

No two statues are the same.

This is the largest of the 3 pits.  Truly an amazing discovery.  The farmer who discovered the statues while digging for a well was there at the gift shop signing books for a premium price.

A picture board showing how the warriors look when they are excavated.  Most of the paint quickly fades away, so they have stopped excavating until they can figure out a way to preserve the paint.  They continue to try to piece together fragments of statues.

I’d have to say that the most exciting part about this trip, and perhaps one of the most exciting things I feel I’ve done in China was ride an overnight train.  It was an 11-hour train ride.  The train station in Beijing was enormous and grand.  And the best part was that I was actually a participant in it.  It was different than the Forbidden City or Summer Palace or some other ancient structure that was big and grand.  Train is how most people travel in China.  I felt like I was doing something that the natives did and participating in the purpose of this enormous structure. 

However, I should clarify.  We weren’t exactly travelling like most Chinese people.  We did buy tickets for our children and got a soft sleeper car which gave us a private room with 4 beds in it.  On Chinese trains, you can get:

a. soft sleepers – nicest accommodations.  Four beds to a room with a locking door.

b. hard sleepers – beds that are stacked closely against each other in an open car.

c. Soft Seats – similar to coach bus seats.

d. hard seats – I don’t know what these are like, but I got the impression that they were like benches that people squeeze in tightly on, like a subway.

The average Chinese person will take this grueling red-eye 11 hour ride on the hard seats.  Our family arrived at the train station in our pajamas at about 8pm, got on the train, watched the country side go by for a while, then woke up on the other side of the country.  I slept with Andrew (so he doesn’t fall off of the bed) and Tenille got a top bunk bed all to herself.  In the morning, she complained that it wasn’t too comfortable.   I thought it was ok.  Honestly, I preferred this to plane rides.  If we had a high speed train from Seattle where I could sleep on it and wake up in LA, I’d be going much more frequently.  Furthermore, the prices were much cheaper than an airplane at $60 per person.

There was also a restaurant car, but I didn’t get anything.  There was a flat screen TV for each bed.  They had 3 or 4 channels that played different movies throughout the ride.  I watched one in the morning about a basketball team that learned mystical kungfu skills to pump up their game.  On the other wall was an Oxygen port.  This train continued on to Lasa, Tibet.  I’m told that the elevation was so high, that people wear oxygen masks through certain portions of this trip.

The enormous railway station

Caleb entertained himself on some broken chairs while waiting for the train.  It was an overnighter, so we came in our pajamas.

Our cabin with 4 beds.  We could have only bought two beds, but we didn't want some random Chinese guy joining us for the night, so we bought all four beds.

We came home by plane which only took us a few hours. On the way home from the Beijing airport to our home, I got yelled at by our taxi driver again.  The bill came to 64 Yuan.  He asked me if he could just take a 100.  I laughed at him, trying to communicate that he was speaking nonsense.  This was China.  There are no tips.  Then he asked for 80.  I told him 65 because he kept the meter running and it charged an extra Yuan while we were arguing.  Then he mumbled something about being Korean.  It’s a good thing I don’t understand Chinese, because it didn’t seem like a compliment. 

I realize that I’ve only written about my bad taxi experiences.  It’s because they’re typically the most interesting, or there’s something funny about them.  Although there are quite a few taxi drivers that will take the long way to a certain destination to cheat us out of a few extra Yuan, I’ve also run into very nice and extremely honest taxi drivers.  Once, on my way to work we got lost.  I’m pretty sure it was my fault.  Once we figured out where we were and got me to my building, he discounted the fare for me.  I’ve had a couple incidents like this where they’ve either discounted the fare or stopped the meter early to compensate for some issue. 

Tenille:  The most interesting part of the Xi'an trip for me was visiting a man who's house is built inside a cave of a mountain.  These "homes" are slowly dwindling as the government is trying to help these people move into more suitable living arrangements.   

The cave is closed in with bricks and clay from the surrounding hills.  This man really lives here, and he kept saying how bad his house is.  It was really sad!  If you think you have it bad, remember at least you're not living in a cave.  It made a huge impression on me, and I hope that Caleb will internalize how blessed we truly are!

Inside the main living quarters, there is one bed where everyone piles in.  You can see how meager their lives are.

Another room in the courtyard.

We assumed this was the "bathroom", which was located outside the house courtyard.

We also took a golf cart around the Xi'an city wall, visited the Wild Goose Pagoda, saw the Tang Dynasty Jaozi and Dinner Show, and visited the Muslim Quarters Bazaar where we got some "groovy souvies" (Adam's friends' name for souvenirs.  Love it!)

One of the gates of the city wall.

Caleb enjoyed running on the open city wall

Dads having fun with the armor displays.

A rare picture of our whole group together.  Thank you, Robinsons for an awesome trip!  We love you guys!

The jaozi (wontons) are shaped into the animals whose meat was found inside.  Here are some duck jaozi.

Caleb and Tenille getting their "zen" on.

Cute little monk at the pagoda.

The pagoda....it is famous because it has Indian architecture.  One of the most famous monks had it built after living in India.

Monk getting his head shaved.

We got a chance to visit a southern Chinese city called Guilin.  It is known for its beautifully terraced rice fields and cormorant fishing birds.  If you’re curious, I highly recommend watching a documentary series called “Wild China”.  It’s on Netflix.  For me, watching the documentary was pretty close to being there. 

You do miss out on being solicited every 5 feet by someone who wants to give you a special price on a tour.  And if you have a baby with light colored hair, getting mobbed by other Chinese tourists that are there that have never seen a white baby.  We don’t have white babies, so our children get the normal version of baby admiration….  

When we were in Guilin, we travelled with our good friends, the Robinson’s (Adam published the squatter the toilet how-to that was linked in a previous entry).  They have a 3-year old daughter with curly, blond hair and cute as a button.  At first, it might seem like it’d be cool to enjoy celebrity status where strangers mob you and take pictures of you.  After travelling with them, I could see quickly that it’s not always fun.  Strangers want to hold your child and touch their face.  Sometimes, mobs gather and press up their cameras in their face.  Some are more discreet and stand at a distance, but have their cameras creepily and steadily pointed at your child like they’re taking some kind of video.  When you need to get somewhere, sometimes you’re stopped every few feet by a new mob of people asking if they can take a picture with your child.  At some point, you have to say no so you can do the things you planned to do, and that sometimes causes bad feelings.  And very quickly the child also gets tired of being prodded and held, and photographed.  Lizzy (Kay and Adam’s daughter) quickly learned the phrase for (I don’t want to). – Bu Yao!  If you’re travelling with the Lizzy and see the amount of attention she is getting, you can certainly understand why she is screaming “Bu Yao, Bu Yao!”, covering her face, and running away.  However, if you’re an admiring Chinese person who sees a blond little girl for the first time, and that’s the first thing she yells at you, you’re probably left with an unpleasant impression.  I only got a glimpse of this life, and hopefully the Robinson’s will publish a more detailed account of their experiences with Lizzy.

Back to Guilin – Cormorant fishing birds are pet birds that are raised by fisherman.  They remind me a bit of pelicans, but they don’t have the big sagging beak.  These birds are taken out by the fisherman on a narrow bamboo raft into the river.  Their throats are tied with a string, not tight enough to choke them, but snug enough that they can’t swallow fish.  The fisherman then releases them into the river.  Less than a minute later, the birds emerge and hop back on the raft.  The fisherman picks up the bird and pulls fish out of their mouths that are stuck in their throat because of the string.  Their fishing basket is filled within minutes.  At the end, the cormorant birds are relieved of the strings around their neck and are given a few choice prizes to feast on.  Although the technique is amazing, apparently, it’s not the most economical way to fish.  We were told that very few people actually fish this way any more.  Mostly cormorant bird fisherman are really only left around for the tourism industry. 

In Guilin, there were also a large number of caves.  We went through one that was impressively enormous.  When I think of a cave, I usually think of a tunnel.  But naturally formed caves are very different.  They are not uniform.  They have all kinds of crazy formations that have formed over thousands of years.  The Chinese have all kinds of creative names for the various formations jutting every which way from the cave walls, ceilings, and floors.  I suppose in that way, it’s somewhat like cloud formations.  This particular cave was quite well developed for tourists.  They had it lit up with all kinds of colored lights, especially the formations of interest.  There were narrow areas where steps were carved into the floor, and there were large expansive rooms with benches for the tourists.  In the middle of one of these large expansive rooms, there were a laser light show.  In some ways, it took away from the naturalness of the place, but it also did a good job of highlighting the points of interest (in a vegas light show kind of way.)

We also got to see some beautiful scenery as we floated down a river to a smaller community called Yanshuo.  This is the stereotypical scene that I think of when I think of China.  Rocky hills jutting vertically from the ground laced with lush greenery.  The views were pretty spectacular and photographs could hardly do it justice. 

Then we got to a little village in Yanshuo.  When we got there in our little electric cart, an old woman (maybe in her 70’s or 80’s) dropped a bunch of things she was carrying and took off like a bullet and at first I thought perhaps she was scared of us.   Ends up, she ran over to a manual wooden water pump and was demonstrating it for us.  She smiled and waved.  We stopped the van, and a horde of other old ladies showed up all with their circus act selling trinkets.  One lady brought out her bull.  Many of them wanted us to pay them to take pictures with them.  One thing that was obvious was that these old ladies were living in poverty.  The interesting thing was that they weren’t begging.  They were selling.  I’m not sure if there’s really a conclusion to take from this.  It could just be that offering photo opps was more profitable than begging.  Or, it could be that there’s a prevailing negative attitude about begging.  I don’t know. 

Along our trip through the village, we did see little kids being carried in baskets and a lot of old people.  Many of the young working-age men and women have all left the village for a better-paying job in the city.  The tour guide explained to me that he used to live in a village when he was growing up.  He described a place where he would run around with his friends from house to house.  They didn’t have TV, so they would gather around an old man telling stories.  When they were done, they’d find another old man and beg for another story.  He said the village was very tightly knit and acted like a big family. 

It reminded me of the neighborhood that I grew up in.  After school, all the kids were outside in the cul-de-sac organizing some kind of game or riding around on bikes.  Many of the adults were out either watching the kids or doing some household chore.  What I know is that I haven’t seen a neighborhood like this in a long time, but I yearn for it for my kids.  I wonder if it has to do with income and independence.  Or perhaps all the information that we are exposed to in the modern world that prevent us from letting our kids run amok.  Regardless, I’ve talked to several of our good friends about creating such a community.  I’ve called it “the compound” but I’m sure there’s a more marketing friendly name.  Perhaps, “the village” might be a bit easier on the ears.  Compound sounds like we’re going to amass weapons and drink poisonous koolaid together. 

I’ve seen such a place up in Marysville.   Our good friend, Kate grew up on one.  Her father owned a large piece of property and as the children all grew up and got married, they would build another house on the property.  In the end, there were four other houses all living within a stone’s throw from the house they grew up in.  Kate says that it was wonderful to grow up in such a place.  She could go to every house and see who had the best dinner brewing.  Kids would run around the large grassy fields in herds playing all kinds of games.  I’m not sure what it would actually take to create this kind of community.  Do we need to be poor?  Do we need to be friends?  Do we need to be family?  Do we need to own the property together?  Do we need ownership in something together?  Whatever it is, I’m interested.  And as the Guilin tour guide described his experience of village life, it’s something I desperately want for my kids.  Something different than the sterile world of video games and computers.   It’s something I’d want for myself.  Even now, I’d rather spend an afternoon sitting on the porch playing checkers with a friend (or even a stranger that will become a future friend) or help sift dirt for a garden, than spend it browsing the Internet.

Our Chinese teacher told us that he aspires to go to America to further his studies in English.  He was thinking about the U.S. or Canada.  Being Americans (citizens of the United States), we tried to convince him to come to the U.S.  He did mention that it was very difficult to get a visa for the U.S. and mentioned that it takes considerable amount of money.  

Then, he asked me if I owned a gun.  This was right around the time that there were these string of shootings across the U.S.  Apparently in China, many people see the movies with buildings exploding, car chases, and automatic weapons being wantonly discharged by ski-mask wearing villains.  And then there’s the real stuff, too – like high school shootings, shootings at Jewish centers, immigration centers, post offices, etc.  He thought that the U.S. might be too scary for him, and that his parents would worry too much.

I like to believe that the media portrayal of violence in the U.S. is a bit over-exaggerated.  However, I should note that on the day of my father’s arrival to the U.S. (when he was fresh out of high school), he was mugged and beat up in Manhattan.  He stayed in his hotel room for several days, scared to go outside.

With that said, I think the people I know that had first hand experience with a violence is far and few between.   Unless you start counting video games…

Apparently, it’s a well-known secret that Beijing has an intricate tunnel system underneath the city that was dug out many years ago when they thought that there might be a nuclear threat from Russia (or other countries.)  Apparently, the massive tunnel system can hold millions of people. 

I’m not sure what the plans for clean water and unradiated food sources were, but concern was probably not much unlike the nuclear attack drills in the US during the 50s and 60s. 

We’ve seen on the web that we could actually take a tour of a portion of the tunnel system.  Most of the websites warned that it was quite difficult to find and gave some directions through neighborhoods and alleyways.  The fear of not being able to find a place has never stopped us before. 

We hopped in a cab and got off about where we thought it would be, then started asking random people where such and such street was.  We found a non-descript hutong alley and a lady pointed us down the alleyway.  We walked a long way.  I was carrying Andrew in a front pack, and Tenille pushing Caleb in the stroller.  The few people that were out biking or walking stared at us as if aliens.  But, the two guys riding an enormous tricycle, wearing an orange jumpsuit and a face mask hardly got a glance.  About 3/4 of a mile down this dusty hutong, we finally found a building that looked approximately like what we’ve seen in the pictures on the web.  We excitedly hopped into the gate.  To our disappointment, we just saw an 8.5x11 piece of paper on a window that said, “Underground City closed.” 

Then some people came out of the courtyard where we thought the underground tour would be.  They looked at us and waved their hands at us as if saying, you’re in the wrong place.  Then he pointed at the sign.  With heavy steps, we went back outside.  As a consolation prize, we took some pictures outside, That’s when we noticed that the signs have been taken off of the walls and left an imprint of the words “Underground City Tour”.  The place wasn’t just closed for the day.  The place was closed for good.  We started the long trek back out of the Hutong. 

That day, we did end up looking at a new upscale retail area by Qianmen.  It reminded me of a Disney’s main street (or the Promenade in Santa Monica), with tracks laid down for  a trolley and an enormous pedestrian only boulevard.  The only difference was that 1. It was all Chinese themed buildings, and 2. 98% of the buildings were empty.  It was an eerie ghost town of brand new retail stores.  But, what was weird was that there were thousands of Chinese people walking up and down looking at the empty stores.  Walking through this empty prime retail location felt like a gloomy reminder of the economic condition that the world is in.

I thought this subject was worth a write-up.  In Bothell, most of our friends are all approximately in the similar income range and in general no one feels extremely wealthy.  In China, it’s difficult not to notice that you’re in the top 1% of the income bracket.  (If you make more than $48k, you’re in the top 1%)

Perhaps it is because of this obviousness of the wealth distribution, that this topic has been lingering in my mind.

In general, I rarely give handouts to those that are asking for it.  I am aware of the Sermon on the Mount Matthew 5:42 – Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away.

I have to admit that turning down a solicitation is not comfortable for me.  But, there’s something that prevents me from giving freely.  In the States, I thought it was because I was afraid of being suckered or tricked.  Whenever I’ve been in a situation where someone aggressively asked for money, usually someone around me will say that they will just use it to buy alcohol, smokes, drugs, etc.  Or that they look completely capable of working and that he should be working rather than begging us for our hard earned money.  I’ve never been completely satisfied with those types of justifications, but as I’ve said, I rarely make it a practice to give to those that ask.  I think my justification has been that there’s food banks and shelters that take care of the poor, and a donation to these institutions is money better spent.  Tenille and I do make it a practice to set aside a percentage of our income so that we can be very deliberate about our charitable giving.  Sometimes, organizations like the Seattle Gospel Mission make it on our list… sometimes they don’t.  But, this controlled, deliberate giving does not always relieve me of the guilt I feel after I’ve turned away someone that asks me for charity.

Here in China, most people are probably poorer than those that we would consider “in poverty” in the U.S.   I don’t think they necessarily see themselves as poor.  You see them on their bikes, setting up shop on a corner and cooking up sausages or steaming corn for the subway rush.  You see thousands and thousands of migrant workers that have come from the rural villages to work as waitresses, cleaning ladies, guards, factory workers, etc.  There are so many enterprising people here, trying their best to make ends meet.  I’ve started a small project to try and take pictures of all the entrepreneurial folks I see.  At first I was a bit shy about getting in someone’s face and taking their picture.  But, I’m slowly starting to get over my shyness.  People on the subway certainly are not shy about taking pictures of our babies with their cell phone cameras.  So, I figure culturally, it’s not too creepy.

Amidst all these people hustling and bustling, now and then, we’ll run into the truly poor.   These are women carrying their infants wrapped up in blankets and begging for money in the freezing cold.  An old lady with her forehead on the sidewalk and her hand outstretched for change.  A lame man with a sign around his neck dragging himself with his hands through the subway begging for change.  Children, maybe between 5 and 10 years old, with dirty faces and dirty, torn clothes pressing their face and hands against the taxi window begging for money. 

They are not going to buy drugs.  They are clearly not capable of working.  Very likely, they will take the money I would give them and buy something to eat.  Maybe for themselves.  Maybe for their children.  I’ve turned some away and it has really bothered me.  Because I truly have no excuse.  And one day, I sat and thought to myself if I knew for a fact that the money I was giving was going to feed the person I was giving it to, would I give it?  My initial reaction was that I can’t possibly help everyone.  But, everyone hasn’t asked.  In my entire time in China, I’ve probably been asked less than 10 times.  And I’m counting the times where they haven’t really asked me directly, but I saw that they were clearly in need.  My hot lunch costs me about 8 Yuan in the Microsoft Basement.  Giving enough money for a hot meal to everyone that has asked so far would probably be less than $15.  And if I project that out to a year, that’s maybe $60.  And even if I did give that much at every opportunity, and I was asked what percentage of my income I spent in the last year providing for the hungry that has asked me directly, my answer would be to my shame. 

It’s coming to my realization, that it’s not really about the person asking, or their intent with the charity.  There’s something in me that needs to be fixed.  People pay thousands of dollars so that they’re no longer fat.  What do I need to pay so that my heart is no longer hardened against the poor?

Wow.  Hard to believe it’s already been 3 months and our journey is half way over.  The temperature has really cranked up in the last few weeks.  I heard it was about 70 degrees this weekend. 

Yesterday, we went to Chaoyang Park, which is less than a mile from our home.  In general, all the parks we’ve been to have been spectacular.  You have to pay to go into them.  Anywhere between 50 cents to $1.50, but they have been more than worth the cost.  I definitely would not mind paying a few dollars for each visit at home, if our parks could be this nice.  Senior Citizens don’t have to pay. 

Chaoyang Park is a little longer than a mile tall, and a little less than a mile wide.  It is about a third covered in water.   It is the Beach Volleyball venue for the Beijing Olympics.  There is an amusement park in the middle which reminds me of the Seattle Center Fun Forest and Enchanted Village.  You can rent a 4 wheeled pedal bike for the whole family (which I wish we would have rented, because the place was so enormous!)  On the water, you can rent a pedal boat, row boat, or a motorized boat and travel to the corners of the park on its waterways.  There are huge greens where hundreds of people are picnicking, flying kites, tossing around a frisbee, etc.  There’s a square that has a bunch of public art. 

We got a kite last week at Dong Jao market.  I’ve been thinking about getting one when I’ve seen them at some of the tourist markets… Dong Jao is not a tourist market.  We got there about 4:30pm, and it was swamped with mosquitos.  Mosquitos in my ears, running against my mouth, buzzing around my nose and eyes.    There were animals of all kinds being sold which is what I think was attracting the mosquitos.  I think in general, they were being sold as pets.  When we got out of the animal section, the mosquito problem subsided. 

Before Dong Jao, the last place I priced out a kite, they were asking about $150 for a kite reel… because it was real wood and real metal (of some kind…)  I didn’t really care for “real” anything…. nor do I believe that anyone’s selling me anything “real” in China.  The first place I asked in Dong Jao, they wanted $15 for the reel. That’s more like it…  I found Tenille and told her that I think I’m going to get one.  The second store I approached wanted $7.50 for the reel.  With very little negotiation, I got a kite, string, and reel for $10.

So, I’ve had this kite that’s been burning a hole in my backpack for a few days…. The conditions at the park were perfect.  There was a nice open square where I saw about 20-30 kites flying.  Caleb and I excitedly unpacked our kite and started assembling it.   It was a hawk, and took a while to get it all assembled and attached to the reel.  “OK, Caleb here we go!”  Just as I said those words, I noticed all the kites around us were lying on the ground.  The air was as still as a picture.  We waited around and it reminded me of surfers waiting for some waves.  Now and then we get a few puffs and the kite would fly up 20 or 30 feet.  After about 30 minutes, we decided to keep exploring the park.  My wife seeing my disappointment told me to keep the kite out, in case we got some good wind.

When we got to the amusement park, the wind really started to pick up, so I let the kite loose.  It flew spectacularly high… So high in fact, I hardly even noticed that my family had abandoned me.  Feeling a twang of guilt, I pulled down the kite and put it away.  I found Caleb in a kiddie pool, riding around a motorized mini-boat.  There was also a ride where you put your kid in the middle of a big blow up cylinder.  The cylinder is floating in the water, so when the kids try to run up the sides of the cylinder it spins in the water.  Looked kind of fun to me, but Caleb opted to pass on it. 

On the way home, we rode home in a cab.  In general, we’ve been getting used to crazy driving and the lack of car seats for the babies.  As we were turning into our apartment complex, a lady was crossing the street in front of us without really looking.  The cab driver gave a honk to wake her up.  Tenille leaned over to the cab driver and remarked, “Ta xue xiao.”  I was a bit confused and asked Tenille… “She’s a school?”  Apparently, she meant to say, “She’s sleeping… “  We now have quite a collection of these kinds of wack-o blurts.  We’ve said, “You’re welcome” when we were supposed to say “Thank you.”  That usually gets some weird looks.  I like to say “Later” when what I mean is “Wait a moment”.  Luckily, we are just ignored in general.

We have a favorite take out place in our apartment complex that has these delicious dumplings. They make it on the spot as we order them and you get 6 for a $1. Not only that, we always got a 20% discount, and we had no idea why... One order will fill you up. 2 Order will feed me and the kids. Tenille went there the other day and noticed that it was closed. I was hoping that perhaps it was a holiday that they might be observing. So, I went back the next day after work and sure enough the lights were out, the chairs and tables were gone, and there was a sign on the door. I took a picture of the sign to show to our Chinese teacher. Maybe they moved to a new location nearby? When I showed the sign to my Chinese teacher, he read it and said, "It says 'Space for rent'." I'm super sad. Now we have to find another super cheap, reasonably safe Chinese restaurant. It's forcing our family to start branching out again and experimenting. It’s made me realize that we’ve been getting in a bit of a rut with the few local restaurants that we’ve found.  There's a row of restaurants where I'm sure when we first arrived would have said, "We're never eating in that place... " Those are the types of places that we're now starting to investigate... Cheap and good...

Our dinner exploration the other night did not turn out so well.  I had fried mutton, which was a hunk of deep fried lamb brisket.  I wasn’t as enthusiastic about it as I had hoped, considering it was deep fried..  My wife got a chicken stirfry dish, but the vegetables didn’t wholly agree with her. 

Availble for rent......sad!

We went to a restaurant with our Chinese teacher and he taught us a lot of useful phrases. One very useful phrase is not too spicy. Wo bu yao tai la! Tenille modified this phrase a bit because "not too spicy" might mean a little bit spicy. She wanted "NOT SPICY AT ALL!" So she has been saying "bu yao la".

This week, we went to the hospital because our good friends just had a new baby. As good Mormons do, we wanted to bring them a meal, so we stopped by a Thai restaurant next to the hospital. I ordered about 4 things from the menu, then Tenille started to order off the menu. After each item, she would say, "Bu yao la" indicating that she wanted it not spicy. The waitress looked to me and showed me her order pad (as if I could read Chinese), then started listing off the items. Although I can't read, I can count. I noticed that she only had 4 things on her order form. She had written something else, but then crossed it out.

I opened the menu and pointed to what my wife wanted to order. Then she looked at me funny, and repeated, "bu yao le." Then I realized what was happening. "Bu yao le" means, I don't want. So, I pointed to Tenille's choices and said that we do want them. "Wo yao!" Then Tenille jumped in and started repeating, "bu yao la! bu yao la!" Then I had to say, "No NO NO! Wo yao! Wo yao!" as I motioned to Tenille to please stop helping!! And I said, "Wo bu yao tai la!" Which means "not too spicy" but it was the best we're going to do for tonight. Then I explained to Tenille what I thought was happening. As we waited for the food, I could hear the waitress muttering under her breath to her colleague, "bu yao le! bu yao le!" I'm sure it was frustrating for her as well. "Do you want it or not lady? and why are you pointing to an item and telling me you don't want it?!"

Later we had a good laugh about it with our Chinese teacher and he taught us to say, "Wo bu yao la de." Which is much less ambiguous... especially with our crazy American accent.

We got off the plane in Beijing, and it was time to take a Taxi back to our apartment. We were spoiled in Hong Kong because everyone spoke some amount of English. I got my game face back on and rehearsed the name of our Apartment Complex - Yuan Yang Xin Gan Xian in the San Yuan Qiao neighborhood. We got to the taxi stop and noticed hundreds of taxis waiting in line to take passengers. We went up to the taxi that we were directed to. The taxi stand person asked us where we were going, and I told him. The taxi driver saw our bags and started saying something. My guess was that "It was not going to fit!" He opened his trunk, and it was a bit small. He also had some stuff in there already. He put our big bag in the trunk sideways in a way that it would obviously not fit, then started shaking his hand. It was clear that he wasn't even going to try and make this work. It's not like there aren't a hundred other taxis here. I was done with the nonsense, and started walking to another cab. The cab stop person talked to the new cab driver for a bit, and it looked like the cab driver was asking, "Why are you bringing them to me?" He reluctantly opened his trunk and we put our bags in. I told him where we were going, and he repeated it. So, I repeated it. Then he repeated it. Then he started saying a whole bunch of other stuff. I apologized that my Chinese was not so good, then repeated where we needed to go. He was just muttering something under his breath. This was all making me a bit nervous, so I asked him if he knew where San Yuan Qiao was. It was like a bomb went off. it seemed like he was giving me a tongue lashing. Fortunately, I had no idea what he was saying. I sat in my seat quietly waiting to see how this was all going to play out. I could tell Tenille was a bit nervous in the backseat. I wondered if asking if he knew San Yuan Qiao was somehow offensive. Perhaps there was a more polite way to ask. As we got close to our home, I gave him a little help to guide him to our apartment complex, but it seemed like he knew exactly where it was. We thanked him and paid him, and went upstairs to our apartment a bit puzzled. Welcome back to Beijing!

The next day, we described to our Chinese teacher what happened and asked if I stated the question impolitely. He said that it's exactly how I was supposed to ask. Then, after thinking about it some, he said that he was probably mad because we lived so close to the airport. Taxi drivers have to wait in very long lines and are hoping to make a lot of money by taking passengers that live far away. We paid about 50 Yuan which is about $7.50. That probably makes sense. The line was pretty long.

I was talking to my friend Adam about this who lives in Taiwan. He said that in Taiwan they have a system to address this. If a passenger is only going a short distance, the taxi stop guy will call a cab from the back of the line. This way, the cabs that have waited a long time can all earn a substantial fare. He also said that in England, if you're back within 15 minutes of picking someone up, the cab can return to the front of the line again. Apparently, taxi drivers started forming teams where 1 cab would pick up a passenger then drop them off a short way away from the airport feigning something wrong with the car where his buddies would pick them up. Then the original cab driver would go back to the airport to get in front of the line and pick up another passenger and repeat the process. These cab drivers are no dummies...

Our visit to Hong Kong was a successful one.  There was an Asia Women’s conference for our church that Tenille wanted to attend, so we packed up the whole family to visit Hong Kong. 

My first impression was that it was busy!  It’s like the Manhattan of China.  Buildings reach skyward all around you so that you can sometimes only see a sliver of sky.  It’s also expensive like Manhattan in terms of hotel costs.  My wife got the cheapest hotel (just shy of $100/night)  that seemed like it was walking distance to the church.  We gave the address to the cab driver and when we got there, we were a bit concerned because it was just a street full of stores.  No Hotel!  Where’s the Hotel?  We did another lap around block thinking that perhaps it was tucked away in some side street.  No luck.  We then came back around and started paying attention to the numbers on the stores.  The Hotel – Mingle by the Park – was located at 143 Wan Chai Street.  This time we found it.  It was a small doorway squished between another doorway and a Doctor’s office marked by a small plaque next to the opening.  We got off at the corner and went into the doorway which led to stairs.  We went up 3 flights of stairs and found a small reception desk where we checked in.  We got a room on the third floor which is worse than it sounds because the first floor starts at the reception desk.  Luckily, we had some help carrying up all of our stuff another 2 stories of stairs.

Now Tenille and I don’t often argue about much, but we did have a slight disagreement about the number of luggage we were taking to Hong Kong.  I am the type of person that can wear the same pants for 3 days without thinking about it, and Tenille likes to prepare for every eventuality (which in general is a wonderful characteristic to have in a wife).  Being reminded of our experience coming into the Beijing airport, where I had to push two different carts full of teetering bags across the airport like a maniacal cartoon character, I asked Tenille to try and reduce our number of bags.  She didn’t like this suggestion, which I can somewhat understand because the weight limit in China is 20 kg (44 lbs).  She said, “How hard could it be to carry an extra bag!  We get on a cab outside our door, carry it to check in, then carry it to a cab in Hong Kong, then carry it inside!” 

This conversation happened to have taken place right after I was tasked with borrowing a Graco Pack and play from friends that lived in a resort like complex.  If you’ve ever had to carry a pack and play across a cruise ship, you might be able to relate to my state of mind.  There is no easy way to carry a Pack and Play.  It’s a big rectangle that’s awkward to carry.  And there’s a small handle in the middle which feels like you’re getting a rope burn after a few minutes of carrying it.  Needless to say, I was not a fan of taking the Graco, but Tenille was insistent because she wanted a place for Andrew to sleep.  I pleaded that I would rather stay up all night with Andrew in the bathroom rather than take the Graco.  She would not back down.  Then, I asked her to reduce our bags down to one.  She didn’t like that suggestion either, but eventually agreed under threat of a luggage audit.  Since my wife is Awesome (she told me to write this), she got down to a single bag that weighed 19.9 kg.  The problem is that one person has to take the kids, which means the other person (usually me) has to take ALL of the luggage.  Tenille usually has some scheme to assemble and stack all of the bags in some complex fashion so that one person can somehow manage an unnatural number of bags, but only in ideal conditions.  For instance, it wouldn’t work on stairs or be extremely difficult through the security check. 

On the day of the trip, Tenille was pulling our big bag with the Graco on top of it probably due to my whining and to show me “How hard could it possibly be?”  We went all over the airport before we figured out that the taxi took us to the wrong terminal.  We walked around until we found a bus terminal to take a bus which took about 20 minutes to our terminal.    With this incident and how crowded it was in Hong Kong and having to take our luggage up 4 stories of stairs, I think Tenille was ok that we got down to a single bag, although she might not admit it.

Enough on bags, back to Hong Kong.  We thought we had gotten used to being in tight quarters until we saw our Hotel Room.  The room was a King size bed with about 2 feet on 3 sides of it to walk around.  There was a flat screen TV on one wall.  It was a bit tough with the 2 kids, but we managed ok.  They also had a movie system which had something like 2000 movies.  When I turned it on, it said that they can only be played one at a time, so some movies may not be available.  That was enough for me to think that there was some respect for anti-piracy laws, and we watched Kung Fu Panda.  3 times…

On the first day, we went to see a giant Buddha statue on top of a mountain.  We went on a 20 minute cable car ride to get to the top.

We also went to a fishing village called Tai O.  Many of the houses were built upon stilts.  We were there during low tide, so we didn’t get to see the houses as if they were floating on the water.  Just by chance, a lady offered us a ride in her boat around the village and we accepted her offer.  We road in a small boat with two other couples.  One couple was from Hong Kong and was taking another couple around.  The lady from Hong Kong spoke English very well and fell in love with Andrew.  She ended up giving us an English tour as the boat drove around the town.  Even after the boat tour, she stuck with us and explained about the town.  The others in her party seemed a bit annoyed with her as she stayed behind with us.  Ends up that the town has changed a lot over the last 5-10 years.  The government had built housing inland for the inhabitants.  However, you had to pay taxes if you lived in the government housing.  Many people chose to stay in the stilt houses and pay no taxes.  But, there was a fire a few years ago which burnt down many of the houses.    We walked through the small market (which was basically an alleyway), and saw a lot of live seafood.  The shrimp looked more like an ancient bug than the shrimp that I’m used to.  The Hong Kong lady said that they’re supposed to be related to the ancient fossils.

Over the next few days, Tenille attended the church conferences while I worked throughout the morning and set out for food with the kids in the afternoon.  One day, I went out to Victoria Park with the kids.  There we saw what looked like a kiddie pool, but it was designated for R/C boats.  We stuck around for a while, and boy was I glad we did.  There I saw the fastest R/C boat I’ve ever seen in my life.  It sprayed a rooster tail behind it that was probably taller than I was.  I was a bit concerned that it might come flying out of the pool and hit one of my kids which would definitely result in a hospital visit…   But, that’s me.  Always thinking about the worst possible case scenario…

In the evening, we went to see the Hong Kong light show.  The lights on the biggest buildings in Hong Kong are synchronized to music that is playing across the bay.  Honestly, I was expecting fireworks when I heard about the light show.  It was interesting to see, but a little too long for my taste. 

Tenille and I took turns attending the Temple.  The Temple in Hong Kong is  intimate and can probably accommodate about 30 members.  If you have a party of more than 10, you’re supposed to make an appointment.  I have to admit, I love to see the church in the nooks and crannies of the world – to see how they worship and to see the small differences to accommodate local circumstances and culture.  With that said, the church building in Hong Kong was enormous.  It was about 11 stories tall.  I counted 3 chapels in there.  We ended up going to the Philipino branch which was made entirely up of women.  There were 3 men that made up the Presidency, and 2 men + 2 missionaries that passed the sacrament.  From the talks that were given, it seems like the women all left their families in the Phillipines to make money in Hong Kong.  Several of them spoke of how much they missed their husband and families.  It made me appreciate that I’ve lived all of my married life with Tenille and we’ve hardly ever been apart.  We shouldn’t take that for granted.

On the last day, we went on a tram to the Peak in Hong Kong.  The tram was fun because it went up a very steep incline, sometimes feeling as steep as 45 degrees!  The view from the top was pretty nice, but a bit hazy. 

Finally, I was impressed with how the airport works in Hong Kong.  There’s a train that you can take from the city to the airport which takes about 30 minutes.  The train is faster than the taxi.  The best part is that you can check your bags at the train stop in the city, then just board your plane at the airport.  Next time we saw our bags was in Beijing! 

Over the last couple weeks, I’ve been reflecting upon my experience in Beijing.  I wasn't sure exactly what I wanted, but I'm grateful for what I'm getting.  Being in Hong Kong has reinforced many of these thoughts.

There are places in Beijing where you can have a very “American’ experience living in suburbs with traditional neighborhoods surrounded by English speakers and stores that cater to westerners.  This works out great for a lot of families that are stationed in Beijing.  Although we’re not living in a Hutong (traditional Chinese courtyard neighborhood), our experience has been one where we feel very foreign.  In general, people don’t speak English.  Even if they understand it, they are hesitant about speaking it.  I can completely relate, because I don’t want to speak the little bit of Chinese I know in fear that the other party may assume that I know how to speak Chinese and start barraging me with a river of words I start drowning in.  This has happened so many times.  It usually ends up with me giving a blank stare for a few seconds, then “I can’t speak Chinese very well.  I’m an American.”  If they give me the blank stare back, now I usually say, “I’m Korean.”  That usually prompts a head nod, and I’m relegated to my proper place as a foreigner.

In general, it’s rare to have an experience as an adult where you feel so helpless.  Perhaps, it might be likened to being in an accident where you need to learn to walk again or use your hand again.  You’re used to being able to do some things very well, then to have it all taken away is a frustrating and humbling experience.  And to be able to climb back out so slowly is also humbling.  But, I'm finding that, this is what I wanted, and I am realizing that it’s probably the most valuable experience I’m getting from this time in China.  Many foreigners are experiencing similar trials.  I think that is why it is so easy to strike up conversation and become close friends so quickly here.  For the first time in a long time, we feel like we desperately need other people’s help.  Our ability to eat, get around, and just about do anything depends on it.

There are a few things I’m pretty sure I’ll be bringing home, and I hope it is lasting.  1.  An appreciation for foreigners in our country.  Oh, how desperately we want to know natives of this country that can teach us and affirm to us that we’re doing things right.  America is probably a country that is quite unaccommodating to foreigners.  Hopefully, our experience will ring out in our minds when we see a foreigner struggling to figure out how things are done in our country.  Hopefully, we will take time to guide them and befriend them.  2.  Friendships based on need and service – I am sure we will consider how we can forge more intimate friendships with our existing friends, and place ourselves in places where we are made to depend on others and where we can be of service to those in need.  It’s nice in some ways to be in a place where you feel you don’t need anyone else’s help, but we’re finding that feeling dependent on others and others on you is also very fulfilling. 

In my few days in Hong Kong, I have yet to run into someone that doesn’t speak some amount of English.  It’s a place that is probably much more comfortable and fun than Beijing in terms of amenities for foreigners.  But, fun doesn’t always have the same rewards and refining edge as an experience of humility.     

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=darcy/090305

I’ve never been much of a sports fan… until I read that MIT is going to be in the NCAA Division III basketball tournament this year!

I’d better polish up my MIT cheer:

"I'm a beaver,
You're a beaver,
We are beavers all.
And when we get together,
We do the beaver call.
e to the u, du / dx
e to the x, dx
Cosine, secant, tangent, sine
3.14159
Integral, radical, mu dv
Slipstick, slide rule, MIT!
GOOOOOO TECH!"

This will be great!  At least for the first few minutes!!  I hope you join me in cheering on the true Cinderella team this March!  If you want, you can even get a T-shirt with the cheer in mathematical notation.  Gooooo Beavers!

It tasted like beef.  I kinda wished that they wouldn’t have told me, because I couldn’t tell the difference.  But, I knew inside that it was donkey.  And that did make a difference…

That’s all I have to say about that.