Chinaversairy- Thoughts after a Year in Beijing

A year ago at this time- I had lived in China for 2 weeks. As I reflect on the year that has passed, and all the life- changing experiences therein, it can almost seem like a dream. When someone asks- 'What's it like to live in China?'- I'm never quite sure exactly what to say. Perhaps the best way to describe it is through anecdotes. I have two in mind that are particularly telling.

The first happened one night last fall, when I was still relatively new to Beijing. I had tried to get a taxi driver to take me to dance class, but he dropped me off not at dance class, and I was unable to communicate this to him, so I gave up, got out of the cab, and tried to figure out how to find dance class another way. (I did eventually get there, but that's not part of this story). As I was walking, I walked past a string of shops of  different types, from KFC, to a bank, to some that looked rather posh. One of them, seemingly a very fancy wedding bakery, had displayed prominently in the window, one of the most beautiful and ornate wedding cakes I'd ever seen. I was interrupted from taking a picture of it by a a loud beeping noise, which turned out to be a large dump trump. Said truck was adding its load of dirt to an already existing giant pile of dirt, that was just sitting in the walk-way, right next to this shop. There was seemingly no other construction around, just a steadily growing, giant pile of dirt, next to a really posh wedding cake shop.


 
​
​

The second requires you to picture a large, outdoor concert stage- the likes of which you'd see at any huge summer festival in the states. Professional sound systems, a laser light show, huge speaker towers, a giant banner proclaiming the special celebration, hung gloriously above the stage. It was the Friday night dress rehearsal for the Saturday, day-long festival. There was a 80+ piece orchestra of students mixed with professional musicians (did I mention, I'm a music teacher) rehearsing on stage, running through the festival music with the lasers to get timings down. As my colleague was working with the group, I found myself observing the surroundings. All around the stage were the lush, green fields that our school makes sure to keep well landscaped. Not 10 feet behind the stage, there was a ramshackle fence, beyond which were dry, brown patches of grass, dirt, and garbage that seemed to stretch the length of a football field, at least. And there stood a Chinese man, seemingly of the working class, who was slowly inching closer to the fence to examine the spectacle. He was wearing clothes that had seen a lot of hard work, and his shirt was unbuttoned to expose, what is affectionately known as, the Beijing belly. And soon, he was not alone. By the time I took the podium to conduct ' Pirates of the Caribbean' a small group had formed. They didn't talk, to each other or to us, but simply stood and listened. Listened as if we were the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, and they had the best seat in the house.


​
​

I was so struck by the stark dichotomy, I found it hard to focus on the rehearsal. I wondered what they must be thinking. They must have been on their way home from work, or perhaps, they were at home, and had been drawn out by the lights and sounds.  Perhaps they thought: "What is this?" "Who are these laowais? (Mandarin for foreigners, with a slight negative connotation) , or maybe, "Sweet, a free concert!" (most modern, and even pop, music in China still has a very classical feel. The stuff the cab drivers usually listen to can best be described as pentatonic elevator music, so it is very reasonable to assume the common Chinese citizen would find orchestral music and movie soundtracks pleasing and enjoyable listening) .



As I stood there contemplating this contrast, I realized that this moment, to me, was China. The juxtaposition of East and West, of rich and poor, of relaxed community (the Chinese men at the fence, the groups of Chinese men who sit around on small stools playing something like chess) and frenzied solitude (each of the people rushing around trying to get this concert sound check to run properly, the angry cab driver who mumbles under his breath knowing you can't understand, and proceeds to drive like a bat out of hell through traffic).

It is one of the things that has struck me most living here, the stark contrast. The fancy, western wedding cake shop, next to a huge, seemingly random, pile of dirt. The giant concert stage on a perfectly manicured lawn, with western music, lasers, and smoke, next to a dying field, populated by seemingly poor Chinese workers. A sprawling, fancy, over-priced western shopping mall, with smelly, hole in the ground Chinese-style toilets and no toilet paper.  

So much that I see seems as if someone, somewhere, saw something on American or British TV once, and thought it would be a good idea to try to make it happen in China; an attempted approximation of something Western, but not quite it.

 Perhaps so much seems like this to me because of the language and cultural barrier. Having only lived here for just over a year, perhaps much more of this dichotomy that I see would make sense if I could understand more of my surroundings. But without that ability for a deeper understanding, from what I have observed, heard, learned and read, it seems to me that China is, in many ways, forgoing its own ancient and beautiful culture, in order to approximate what it seems to perceive as the better way of the West. And the dichotomy comes from it not being able to keep up with itself. Personally, I feel this push for "progress" (ie- trying to be Western), at the expense of their own culture, is a real shame.

The Gig That Almost Wasn't, or, That Time the Police Pulled the Plug

As a foreigner in China, it is often easy to forget you are living in a Communist country. Every once in a while, like when your VPN is down and you can't get to certain sites on the internet, or when the TV news suddenly goes black just as they were starting to mention something about China, you are reminded.

The biggest reminder, for me, happened last June. My band was hired to play a gig at a Craft Beer Festival; something that could be happening in any hipster community, anywhere in the United States or Europe (again, sometimes, it's easy to forget you're in Asia at all).

When we showed up to get ready for sound check, we were told that we had to end EXACTLY at 9pm, and not a minute after, because this week-end, all of the Chinese students were taking the Gao Cao.

The Gao Cao is the Chinese equivalent of the SAT/ACTs (kind of, except, a much bigger deal, with a much bigger price for some). The Gao Cao, and the Chinese educational system could be an article in itself, so I'll leave that topic for anther day- suffice it to say, this test is so important, the city was going to make sure it was quiet by 9pm. I think this is weird. My fellow band-mates, all expats from different countries, have all lived in China longer, and don't really bat an eye at this. We get our free beer and food (perks of being with the band) and wait for the first band to finish their set. Because it had rained earlier in the day, setting up took loner than it should've, which meant that the first band started later, which meant, we were only going to get to play half a set (bummer, because it was a good crowd and we wanted to make some music!).

We hurried on stage and started to sound check, and before we had even checked all the mics, some Chinese police men ran up to the stage and told us to stop playing. It was only 8:15 at this point, but none the less, we were told to stop. After some arguments and negotiations, all of which were happening in Chinese, and I could not really understand, we were allowed to play again. At this point, we figured wasting time on the sound check was silly, so we jumped right into our songs. We played 2 before the police came back, insisting that we stop playing. It was still only 8:30. Apparently, this time, they were threatening to put the person running the festival in jail if we didn't stop playing.  After more discussion, and bargaining, we were allowed to play one more song. We got to play 3 songs that night.

We were schedule to play the next night, Saturday, as well. Because of the way Friday night went down, we worked out a way to start playing much earlier, figuring this would solve the problems. There was no rain on Saturday either; it had been an absolutely gorgeous Beijing day. Everything seemed like it was going to be perfect. We got on stage to get ready to soundcheck, and as I started to blow my first note, a very large, unfriendly, slightly angry, police officer came up to me. I wasn't sure what he wanted, and I'm not one to be intimidated, so I went on trying to check my mic levels, at which point, he screamed "NO"  very loudly in my face, nearly pulled my saxophone out of my mouth, and gave me a look that said: "If you don't stop, I might hit you". It was terrifying. They cut the sound and power to the stage. After much negotiation, talking, and waiting, we found out we weren't, in fact, going to be allowed to play. If the festival disobeyed, it meant heavy fines. And, threats of jail time has been bandied about. So, there we were, a 9 piece funk band, standing on stage, with a huge crowd, at least a couple hundred deep, standing at the stage, waiting to hear us, and we couldn't play.


This is the crowd, waiting for us to play.

This is us...we tried to start playing a couple of times....to no avail. 
 
​
​
​
We, the defiant ones we were, tried to play acoustically a bit (they seemed ok with this), which was fine for the horn section, but not so great for the singer who couldn't be heard, or the rhythm section-since guitars, basses and keyboards don't fare well without amps. But then the crowd got a little bit excited, and we were made to stop that too. We were, however, allowed to turn on the microphone long enough for our singer to make an announcement to the crowd........

And the singer says- the show must go on!

 He told them all that the show would go on! Across town, at his bar. And, believe it or not, more than half of the huge crowd at the beer festival, including a group of tourists who knew nothing about Beijing, trekked across town to our lead singer's bar to actually get to hear our show. But the rest of that night, is, again, another story (one that involves a garbage truck, fighting for taxis, toplessness, and an epic concert).

Back to the point of this story, it occurred to me later, as the band was discussing this gig that almost wasn't, that this craft beer festival also fell dangerously close to the 25th anniversary of the Tienanmen Square Massacre. And then it all made sense. It wasn't about the Gao Cao. Not really. OF COURSE. Of course, the police would be out in force, and extra vigilant around this time. Of course they would be doing all they could to quell large gatherings. Especially large gatherings of expatriates, that were centered around alcohol consumption. Especially large gatherings of expatriates, centered around alcohol, being fueled by loud, exciting music. 

 Right. And that's when I remembered that I was living in a Communist country. And that I was allowed to live my daily life, only in-so-far as it wasn't a threat to the government and its plans. I mean, it feels like I can live my daily life with freedom, but in reality, the minute my freedom seems to be an issue to the way the government wants things, I'm shut down. The terrifying encounter with the Chinese policeman during soundcheck made that clear.

But then, how different is it from government anywhere, really? Especially where minority groups are concerned.

On having an Ayi

Ayi means Auntie, and also housekeeper.

In the Chinese culture, the Ayis are hired at schools, and all around to be kind of like janitors. And they are hired by families to cook, clean, take care of children, run errands, etc. Many teachers at my school have Ayis to do various jobs for them. Some students at school (Chinese, British, Korean alike) are virtually raised by Ayis.  It just seems to be what is done here.

At first, the idea of a housekeeper or maid made me feel very strange. In America, there is often a stigma (or at least, somehow in my mind there is) that having "help" in the house is this hoity-toity rich person kind of thing to do,  for people who are totally privileged and spoiled (which, as much as I hate to admit it (and why do I hate to admit that?)- I was pretty privileged and spoiled growing up-because I grew up in the middle class- but we weren't "rich" by any means-we struggled sometimes- especially later), and really, you should (who says- why should?) be able to take care of yourself and clean your own house- because only millionaire socialites and people from movies like "Gone with the Wind" and "The Help" have house keepers. Thoughts of housekeepers bring to mind the book: "Nickled and Dimed" and her experience. Certainly, especially in the last year when I was toughing it through full-time grad school, and there were times I was worried about making rent- affording someone to clean for me was totally out of the question.  This paragraph leaves a lot of my own prejudices and ideas about class in America, the "haves" and "have nots", and a lot of judgements that maybe aren't so good, to unpack and grapple with.

But.....when in Rome (or China)........


So, the first week I was here, my housing agent brought around an Ayi for me. She doesn't speak English, but she seemed nice enough. If I was going to have help, I would have liked someone who would cook some meals, but the Ayi the agent brought around didn't cook. Oh well.

It was arranged that she would come for about 4 hours on Wednesday each week. I would pay her every 4 weeks. She would do my laundry, general cleaning, dishes, etc, and could run some errands, do some shopping, and pay my utility bills (this requires going places and talking to people in China- so it can be very helpful to have someone who speaks Chinese do it......I have tried on my own twice to pay my water bill and it was not easy and things got a bit confusing for all involved), collect fapio, and any other general errands. That is pretty awesome. I wasn't exactly sure how it would work.....


As much as it felt weird having a housekeeper of sorts- I do have to say, I was pretty excited. 

In case you don't know- I'm not the best at dishes an laundry. It is only in the past year that I managed to get good at doing my dishes in a timely manner and not letting them pile up in the sink. But I still haven't mastered laundry. I will go as far as to say that I hate doing laundry. Because it never ends. And the laundromat? Ugh.

In fact, I have mentioned multiple times that I have actually considered nudist colonies, because it means no laundry. And doing the washing itself isn't that bad- but the hanging and folding......that's the worst. Back in Chicago, I would end up leaving baskets full of folded (or not so folded) clean clothes because I just wouldn't get to fully putting them away.


I have been using her since August, and I have come to really appreciate my Ayi. She is kind of amazing. I bought her chocolates for Christmas to try to show my gratitude (I'm not sure this is culturally normal- though I haven't figured out what culturally normal is. I know I'm supposed to leave her a red envelope full of cash at Chinese New Year...). And I can leave her notes in English, and somehow she gets them translated and does what they say. She has bought me hangers from the store downstairs, she is a pro at doing my laundry (seriously, my laundry is so clean!), and she hangs it to dry- and when I don't hang the dry laundry in my closet- she puts it away for me the next week. She cleans, does dishes, and has taken my dry cleaning, gotten fapio, and paid my bills. She really is a gem.

Sometimes Wednesday is like min-Christmas- because I come home from work- and my house is all clean and things are put away and it is lovely. Tuesday night/Wednesday morning usually involves a light pre-cleaning to prepare for the Ayi- but it seems most of my friends here do that.

What has prompted this post, however, is this.

I got home (back to Beijing) from the states at midnight. I put my bags down, and went straight to bed- since I had to be at work at 8am the next morning. I had ice skating lessons Monday and didn't get home until 7ish- at which point I made a quick dinner, and due to jet lag- promptly fell asleep on my couch at 8pm.

Tuesday I got home late after Chinese lessons and fell asleep immediately after getting home.

Which brings me to the fact that by Wednesday morning when I was leaving for work, neither of my large, extra-stuffed suitcases had been unpacked. I closed them, and but them off to the side of the room- and figured I'd get to them when I got home.

When I got home late Wednesday evening- both of them had been fully unpacked- all my clothes had been folded or hung, my shoes had been unpacked and put away, and the suitcases themselves had been tucked away!

I had totally not expected her to unpack, but it was quite a welcome surprise. I just love how she just does things like that for me. She'll also make my bed when its a mess- she just does what looks like it needs to be done. I love it. I'm so very thankful for that- and to be completely honest.....this could spoil me. Because I don't have to do laundry or hang up/fold clothes. And that is amazing.

Now- to be fair, the first thing I did was open my closet and re-arrange/re-hang some of the things- and this is how great she is- she seems to have noticed my closet arrangement/organization system and tries to follow it! So lovely of her! But sometimes it isn't quite right- and I get a bit......maybe particular is a good word.....about certain things- but it was quite easy to do a little re-arranging after everything was hung up.

In short- I love having an Ayi and she may have ruined me for the "house keepers aren't a thing here" world. Because- point blank- as all young children know- having someone to do your laundry is awesome. 

Random thoughts, partly sparred by this, part of what I was discussing with a friend as we rode in the back of a taxi- which is how we get around here:

I think I'm spoiled now. I am a rich person here. That is weird. Why do I feel guilty? How do I give back? Maybe more on this in another post. 

When they say full body massage in China, they aren't kidding.

Two of my friends and colleagues here had told stories of their first massages....so I was a bit prepared mentally that this might happen.....but it was also a very Western seeming place...so I thought maybe it wouldn't.

I went to get a massage with a friend of mine, and when we got there, we were welcomed warmly and served tea. It was a pretty posh looking place- like any spa you'd see in the states. They told us that one of us would have to have a male therapist. In my mind, that was no big deal. My mom is a massage therapist, I've had many a massage in my life, male, female, doesn't matter.

I ended up with the male therapist. I went into the room, and was told to put on what were basically scrubs. They were comfy enough. I figured everything would be totally fine then, because in most massage situations, you undress to your underwear and lay under a blanket. But here, we were given clothes, so this seemed like it would be very modest indeed. Good.

Massage goes as planned, feels good, just like a massage should.

Then, about half-way through, I turn over, face up. Again, normal. Massage continues, and as he moves from my shoulders to my upper chest, my friends' stories cross my mind, and I begin to get a little nervous. Is he going to touch them? Is the boob massage going to happen? Will I let him? Is it rude not to? How do I feel about this.......but then he is just massaging in such a calming and relaxing way that I don't really notice. It seems that he has gone just up to and maybe to the side of the breast tissue, but not really touched my boob, and then he moves on to the other side.

"Ok, I think- good. No boob touching. This is ok."

On the other side, the same starts to happen....and then he asks: "Is the pressure ok?". Which he has asked a few times previously in the massage. The pressure, was, in fact, ok, so I responded "Yes".

It seems this yes was also some form of permission, because the next thing I know, my left boob is getting a full on massage.

And it felt good.

In the way that massages on your feet and shoulders feel good. Not in a sexual way. I mean, I've read articles about how your boobs should be massaged and how there are a lot of health benefits and such......

But I couldn't stop my mind from thinking- "Should I feel sexually violated right now?" "DO I feel sexually violated right now?" "Is this okay?" "What if he is really enjoying this?" "Should I stop him?" "Um, I'm getting a boob massage right now......what?" "Did his breathing just change....or did I make that up?"

Then he moved back to the right boob and went at it. And left his left hand on my left boob the whole time......at which I thought "Is he just coping a feel now? Why is his left hand still there? Is this how it works? Is he trying to keep it warm?" And then, after the right boob seemed to have its due, there was double boob massaging.  And the boob massage felt like it was going on for a long time....and his energy felt a bit strange.

And I thought: "Would I feel the same if a woman was doing this, or is it because it is a man that it feels a little weird?" "No, I'm pretty sure I would feel weird if any stranger was massaging my boobs" "Why does that feel weird? How have we been socialized that it feels weird? Do the Chinese find this natural? Also, it feels weird and totally not weird at the same time.....and that in itself is weird".


But then he started going at the area around the nipples......and that's when I had to make him stop. I said: "Okay..." and he immediately stopped and closed my shirt. And went to massaging my forehead. And seemed a bit miffed for just a second.....maybe he was sensitive to crossing a line and could tell that maybe he had? I just don't know.

And by the end of the massage he was trying to make conversation and while I participated politely, part of me couldn't stop thinking: "But you've completely felt up my boobs. I feel both slightly embarrassed and somehow like we're intimately connected, and somehow like you should be embarrassed too." I just felt kind of awkward.

But I don't think I let any of that show. And he told me I should ask for him next time (and part of me wonders if that is only because he liked my boobs- which is something I'd never think about a massage- oh yes, the massage therapist must like my body! .......That is a very silly thought that has never before crossed my mind.....so why....when boobs get involved- do these things happen).

I left having lots of thoughts about conditioned sexuality and other things- and I'm not quite sure what to make of it. I am quite sure that many other people probably wouldn't think twice, so I wonder what about my upbringing/culture/socialization has made me sensitive to this. I'm also not quite sure if I would want, or not want, another boob massage. Nor am I sure how to avoid one?

A new experience that has left me with a lot to ponder.

Also, yes, that many thoughts (and more!) really do run through my head, on a fairly consistent basis. About everything.