I Ain't No Paris.

So we took the kids to the Beijing Aquarium yesterday. It was amazing, probably the best one I've ever been to (sorry, Boston) and we all had a fabulous time. Then we all went over to the Beijing Zoo for a flying visit to see the Pandas. They were also amazing, so funny and human-like in their interactions with each other.

However, that's not what I'm here to blog about. What I'm here to blog about is this:

I now know (not that I didn't before) that I really, really, really don't want to be famous. Ever.

This was the first time we ever took the boys "out and about" inside the Third Ring Road. I guess we had just gotten accustomed to being No Big Deal out in our expat-heavy area of Beijing, and had forgotten that we are, in a word, weirdos. But we were quickly reminded of that fact when each of the boys was snagged by strangers at least 5 times in three hours to pose for pictures with random Chinese children. Not to mention the countless times we were surreptitiously photographed as a family by people pretending to take pictures of fish. It was really weird, and totally freaked Cletus out, especially. I realized we should have warned him, but I'd forgotten that he hadn't been with me on any of my shopping trips downtown.

Anyway, he was pretty embarrassed and uncomfortable, feeling conspicuous and picked on, until we sat next to what was clearly a Swedish family to eat our lunch. After watching these two poor little platinum-blonde girls get mauled (there's no other word for it) he seemed to decide it was okay, and both he and Lemmy were soon smiling happily for pictures. Next time, we'll get pictures of the people taking pictures. It's pretty funny, when you aren't the ones involved.

Now as long as I don't learn how to understand the critical comments from old Chinese ladies about how Leafy Isaac will get pneumonia and DIE if even one inch of his stomach is ever exposed to winter air, everything should be just peachy.

Things I Miss

Full-size washing machines
Blue Bunny Bordeaux Cherry Chocolate Ice Cream
The Stoltenburgs
Newman's Own Creamy Caesar
Lunardis
blue skies
all y'all back in the Midwest. (but NOT the Midwest)
Aveeno
butterscotch chips
7 digit telephone numbers
precipitation

Life in China: Service

Just so you guys know, you people over there in the Western Hemisphere have NO IDEA what customer service means. None at all. Should you ever come and visit, one of our stops will be to Carrefour, to purchase some sort of something. Anything, really. Why, you ask? So you can experience Chinese customer service.

For instance.

The other day I was there purchasing an air purifier. And I am obviously some sort of celebrity, based on the manner in which people scurried around to assist me. At one point, I looked around and realized there were eleven, count 'em, ELEVEN people helping me. None of whom spoke English, but it's amazing what you can get accomplished with pointing, gestures, a lot of smiling and, occasionally, a call to your driver waiting in the parking lot so he can translate over the phone. After the transaction was completed my purchase, which was about the size of a largish hamster cage (and acutally kinda resembles one) was DELIVERED to my house, because there was obviously no way a fragile laowai girl like me could be expected to carry it all the way to the car. Another call to my driver to find out my address (shut up! It's like 8 lines long and different in Chinese than in English) and we were off.

But it's not just big ticket items that secure this kind of service. In every aisle, there are workers stationed every 8 feet ready to help you choose your desired items. And by help you, I mean start loading different mops than the one you want into your cart, while earnestly assuring you that this one is better. And it is cheaper than the one you want, too, so you should probably listen. But you don't, because you are a dumb American and don't feel like being pushed around. So you buy the one you chose. And you get it home. And you realize you should have listened.

In the grocery store--I have not loaded my own groceries onto the little conveyer belt thingie once in three weeks. There are at least 4 employees unloading, checking, bagging and re-loading your purchases. Then one of them will push the cart out to your car, where he and your driver will load your groceries. You are not allowed to help.

In a restaurant--there will be at least 4 people in charge of serving your table. And they will stand about 3 feet behind you, waiting to leap into action should your water, for instance, get less than half full, or your child drop a napkin on the floor (new napkins for everyone!) or you need anything at all. And should it be a buffet, and you have a child with you, the headwaiter WILL carry your child's plate around and get them their food, and they WILL bring you things while you sit at your table. And at any restaurant but the very busiest, the waitresses WILL watch your children for you in the designated play area, or take them on a tour of the kitchens, or break out the play-doh on a nearby table, so you can have a peaceful meal with the other adults. And they will NOT expect or accept a tip for any of this. But you do have to get used to the idea that privacy no longer exists. People are getting paid to sit and watch you eat. So get on with it.

In our neighborhood--your outside garbage can is smaller than my old kitchen garbage can. "How can this be right?" you think, "we will never fit all our trash into this can!" You will, though, since the garbage is collected TWICE A DAY! By guys pulling big wagons with their bikes. It's amazing.

There are even more examples of this, but I can't remember them now, because I've already gotten used to it. You just have to see it to believe it.

Ways in which our new school is better than our old one, part 1.

I could make this a very short series by just saying, "Every possible way, except for Mrs. Midwest 2nd Grade Teacher and Mrs. Midwest Kindergarten Teacher, who were beyond fabulous." But I won't.

Instead I will give you a little sampling of the lunch menu choices (choices? yes, choices, five per day to be precise.) for this week's school lunch. Remember, though, this is the menu for the Lower Elementary School only, preschool through 2nd grade.

Spinach quiche

Chicken teriyaki

Gnocchi with fresh tomato sauce

Roast chicken with wild rice

Stuffed mushrooms with roast sweet potato

Couscous with eggplant

Spanish omelet with chickpea rice

Roast duck

Korean Style Chicken

Ratatouille

Yes. Ratatouille. On a kindergarten lunch menu. I mean, SERIOUSLY! Can I go eat school lunch?



The answer is yes, yes I can. Whenever I want. Which just could be WIWONSIBTOOS part 2.

What do people do all day?

The Ayi (maid): Clean every bathroom, as if it has not been cleaned in 10 years. Vaccuum the entire house. Wash all the dishes by hand. Then run them through the dishwasher. Wash all the kid-prints off all the mirrors and windows. Mop the entire main floor. Translate at least three telephone calls. Take out the garbage. Dust everything in the house. Make swedish pancakes when the kids get home from school. Teach Super L Chinese.

Super L: Make the beds. (We have to maintain SOME semblance of a work ethic, here) Go to IKEA or Carrefour (French Walmart, basically), for everything we have realized we desperately need . . . since yesterday. Find out that none of it (fingernail clippers, clock radios, doorknob locker childproofy thingies) is available in China. Go food shopping. Wash everything I bought at the wet market with soap and a plastic brush. Try desperately to convince Leafy Isaac to stay away from the water dispenser. Move furniture around. Be chastised by my maid for ironing (I will do! I will do!) when all I really wanted to do was watch TV without feeling guilty. Actually parent and play with my children. Help with homework. Make a real dinner, from scratch. Dream of the day when our computer arrives and I can actually use all this free time to WRITE MY BOOK!

Big M: Make lots of big important decisions, radically reorganize the structure of the department, suddenly become the boss of 30 extra people, eat Korean food. And that was just yesterday.

Cletus and Lemmy: Get up earlier than you want to, complain through breakfast, bum a ride to the bus stop off the neighbors or the driver, go to school and have the BEST SCHOOL DAY EVER!, every day. Come home, bum a ride from the school bus to our house (a whole two blocks), eat swedish pancakes, do 5 minutes of homework, play pool, make secret hideouts in the basement, watch the Chinese Disney Channel.

Leafy Isaac: Wake up at 3:30. Wander the house wreaking havoc, till Mommy hears you. Scream till she makes you breakfast. Throw all the toothbrushes in the toilet when she accidentally falls asleep on the couch for 2 minutes. Eat 4 pears, 2 apples, 3 bananas, 26 ritz crackers, 4 slices of bread, 9 mandarin oranges (with peels), 3 swedish pancakes, 2 whole chicken breasts, and two bagels. Declare that you are still hungry. Run around like a maniac all day long in the giant house. Wrap the Ayi all the way around your finger on a daily basis. Play in the water dispenser, for at least 4 hours of every day. Speak English sounding nonsense to Mom, and Chinese sounding nonsense to the Ayi.

Life is good, my friends. Life is good.

Eating in China, Part 1: Produce

Now, to (finally) begin our multi-part, probably multi-year series of posts on China, we will begin with PRODUCE! One of my favorite features of the Beijing experience thus far has been food shopping at the local "wet market." This is like a giant farmers' market, only indoors (kind-of) and with stuff you've never seen before.

For instance: this. Though you could be forgiven thinking that this is a bromeliad flower that is suffering from some sort of strange growth, it is, in fact, a dragonfruit. And as if this isn't weird enough--

. . . here is what it looks like inside. Snow white, with tons of what look like poppy seeds all over. Weird, weird, weird. But very, very good.

This is how many giant green beans you get for $0.60




These are my eggs. Why are they in a colander, you ask? Because when you buy eggs at the wet market, you really really need to wash them. Because they probably came out of the chicken mere hours before. This is clearly evidenced by the fact that they still have feathers on them.





Also, when you buy eggs there, you need to specify. Which kind of eggs would you like? Duck? Pheasant? Turtle? Just chicken, thanks.

This is a yellow watermelon. That's how we like them here.

This is not an apple. No it's not. Not it's not, no it's not, no it's not!!

This is, in fact, a pear. And it is delicious. Just ask Leafy Isaac, who has 3-4 of them a day.

Also available at the wet market, but I don't have pictures of them yet: dried fish of every description, crazy watermelon sized vegetables that stink like rotten eggs, carrots the size of my arm, and sugar snap peas for $0.50 a pound.

And to close, here is my all time favorite food in China (and my old favorite from Hawaii)--

Lychee fruit! No, this is not a sea urchin. This is a fruit. It tastes like a combination of a strawberry and a grape. Only the kind they grow in heaven. Yum.

Don't you wish you were here?

Stuff I learned in China (in no particular order)

1) China is awesome.
2) The Chinese government has control over all indoor heating in Beijing. Consequently, you may well find yourself wearing your coat and two pair of socks and huddling under the comforter in mid-afternoon in your hotel room.

3) Chinese taxi drivers, as if in apology, will keep the ambient temperature of their cars at around 92 degrees farenheit.



4) Incense, in the right context, actually smells pretty good.

5) Incense, when still smellable in your hair three days after your return to the states, doesn't smell so good any more.

6) Even Matthew can enjoy shopping, if it is done correctly.

7) In China, traffic lanes and lights are more suggestions than actual rules. (Yes, Chris, it's worse than Egypt. Is too! IS TOO! My friend has lived both places and says I am right. Sorry.)

Actually, I can't even explain the traffic there. It is death-defying and poetic. The best I can do is tell you to watch this, or this.

8) Being a redhead in China really will get you stared at. Even in a city with 200,000 expats.

9) Being forced to choose between two phenomenal schools is an agonizing problem. A good problem to have, but an agonizing one none the less.

10) In Beijing, there is always something unexpected around every corner.

11) Peking Duck is really, really good. Really. Good.

12) There is way too much cool stuff to say about just a few days in China to tell anyone without losing your voice, or their patience.

20 Questions

Q: Wait, What?
A: The Meikles are moving to China.

Q: Wait, WHAT?
A: Yes. the Meikles. China.

Q: WHERE?
A: China. C - H - I - N - A.

Q: But isn't that, like, a different country?
A: Yes.

Q: Where in China are you moving? 5
A: Beijing.

Q: When?
A: At the end of the year.

Q: For how long?
A: Three years, probably

Q: Is Big M still going to be working for where he works now?
A: Yes.

Q: Will the kids go to school there?
A: Yes. They have two excellent British/American schools there, we will see which one they get in.

Q: Are you excited? Or scared?
A: Excited to move to China. Scared to get the house ready to put on the market in one week.

Q: Is your house ready to put on the market?
A: Not by any stretch of the imagination.

Q: Are the kids excited?
A: Very. They almost died keeping it a secret for three whole days.

Q: But don't they eat all kinds of crazy things in China? And aren't your children very picky eaters?
A: Yes. We are keeping that part of the Chinese experience a secret. Lemmy likes rice, Cletus likes noodles. They'll survive.

Q: But I thought you were moving to Germany/Brazil/Waterloo?
A: We were. It's been a chaotic summer.

Q: Are you doing this just to get out of your jobs at church?
A: Not entirely.

Q: Aren't you nervous to be living in a country where the government is probably monitoring your phone calls and emails?
A: Yes. That's why we're moving out of the country.

Q: Are you going to learn Mandarin?
A: I hope so. The kids will learn it at school, Big M will learn it at work. I will hopefully learn it from our driver.

Q: Wait. What?
A: Yes. Driver. Apparently Expats are not allowed to drive in China, so we will have a driver.

Q: What does Expat mean?
A: Oh. Someone working in a foreign country.

Q: Does this mean you no longer live in the most boring place of anyone in your family?
A: Yes.

Q: Who does now?
A: I don't know. But not us.

Q: Haven't you already answered, like, way more than 20 questions?
A: Probably.

Q: Are you aware that the fortune cookie is not really a Chinese food, and was invented in America, and that your use of it on your blog to announce your move to China is actually reinforcing an innaccurate and often misunderstood impression about real Chinese cuisine?
A: Yes.

Answers.

No, we don't know where (or if) we are moving yet. Yes, time is running out. Yes, it's very irritating. No, there's not much we can do about it. Thank you for asking.