Parental Paranoia/The Real Story of Pinocchio/My Fervent Apology to Homeowners Associations Everywhere

Sometimes I picture my children's funeral.  Morbid, yes.  Paranoid, for sure.  I've probably been to one to many funerals myself, and perhaps I have somehow assimilated tragic freakish deaths as a normal part of life.  More likely it's a defense mechanism, like some kind of pre-emptive strike on your own civilians to prevent an enemy victory.  "You thought you would capture our city?  Ha!  Too bad we BURNED IT TO THE GROUND!" (Maniacal laughter ensues).  In order to avoid being blindsided by tragedy, I have anticipated countless gruesome demises for my husband and children and played them out in my head in harrowing detail.

(she has no idea what dangers are out there...)

  

The thing about China is, there is no way to anticipate everything.  Statistically, I'm sure it's safer.  We don't drive, we no longer live by a pool, or a 55 mph speed zone on a blind curve, or by redneck neighbors who hunt in our woods with high powered rifles.  Violent crime is nearly nonexistent, nobody even owns a gun, and traffic is too bad for anyone to drive at more than 25 mph.   It's safe, it's just an unpredictable sort of safe.  In the US, after you've commuted 30 miles on the highway a thousand times, you sort of assume the thousand and first time will be the same.  Never mind that you're careening across concrete at 70 mph in a combustible steel cage, if you do it often enough, it's like a kind of exposure therapy.  Then you try to cross the road in China.  Like I said before, I know it's safe.  My rational brain has recognized that China does have very effective "rules of the road".  They operate on the principle of "offensive" driving  (due to a shortage of weird, single, middle aged, white guys willing to preach "defensive driving"?) which is actually very effective as people assume that everyone, everywhere is about to step into oncoming traffic, cut them off, drive the wrong way, or park their "meimbou che" in the middle of the road to sell vegetables and knockoff sunglasses.  You could, theoretically, send your children darting out in front of a bus

(or use the train tracks as a walking path)

and they'd probably be a lot safer than in your SUV with a five point harness, because the bus driver has never had the luxury of predictability to lull him into a sense of safety.  So says my rational brain.  Unfortunately, my rational brain can engage just long enough to recognize that four lanes of traffic has suddenly morphed into 5 (or 6, or 7), that there are a horde of electric bikes driving down the road the wrong way, and that the old man elbowing me out of the way to cross the road first is holding a live chicken.  This is when I shift into primal fight or flight mode.

 

And this is where my apology to homeowners associations comes in.  I get it.  I understand why you want to establish predictability, sameness.  Why it feels good to know that when you get up and walk your leashed labradoodle that everyone's grass will be the same height.  If I could speak more Chinese I would gladly head up a homeowners association in our complex if only to enforce elevator inspections BEFORE I got stuck in one and to tell everyone's kids that they need to stop peeing in our courtyard.  It's ok to do that on a farm in Tennessee, just like it's ok to burn your trash there, but it is definitely not ok to burn your trash in our apartment stairwell.  That being said, it's probably a great exercise for our whole family to not have control (or the illusion of control) over everything.  If we want to go somewhere, I can't tell my kids when (or if) our bus is coming, I can't guarantee it will go where it's supposed to, I frequently don't even know exactly where we're going in the first place, and I certainly don't know what a chicken is apt to do when squeezed onto a crowded bus.  Chances are though, even in my morbid imagination, that death by rabid chicken on a Chinese bus is very unlikely.  In fact, the majority of the unpredictability isn't a life or death issue, it just shakes us up enough to ponder the possibility.

Cohen likes to listen to stories while he falls asleep and, recently, we played Pinocchio for him.  I know that Disney usually puts a spin on fairy tales, but Pinocchio was one that I hadn't heard the real version of yet.  In the real version, Pinocchio smashes Jiminy Cricket (who actually doesn't have a cute name like Jiminy) with a hammer in the second chapter, the blue fairy (who is actually the "azure" fairy) dies of grief when Pinocchio abandons her, and Geppetto gets eaten by a shark.  Apparently in other cultures and other times,  people didn't have the same illusion of safety that we do, and there was no such thing as Disney to further foster the illusion.  The funny thing is, coming from the person who usually didn't entertain such illusions, the unpredictability is rather freeing.      It's no longer possible to imagine every possible scenario, so there's no way I can imagine I'll be prepared enough to cheat death.  Because no one can.        

(I can't embed this due to the great firewall, but this if for Thomas and Anthony.  I hope you're reading) http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=TV9WmWLka_w&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DTV9WmWLka_w

So I can go ahead and replace paranoia with acceptance and my reliance in my own preparedness for future tragedy with a perpetual engagement in the present moment

and a trust that I will cope with the future when I come to it.

 Because predicting it is no longer an option.

We are ready to take you on, China.        

Dali and Daily Life

You'd think there would be no reason I shouldn't be updating more often since we're teachers and haven't even been working for the last six weeks, but these guys have other ideas.  

They're getting to the age where they could play happily together, as long as they can sense 

that my attention isn't being occupied by something else.  It's kind of the reverse of the parent radar-you know when you sense an eerie silence that means your kids must be getting into some kind of trouble?  Well I'm sure that my silence looms even larger in my children's minds.  The moment I start doing anything remotely absorbing/interesting/necessary, they sense my absence and immediately intervene.  I imagine they have conversations later on that go something like this:

Cohen: Ugh.  So you'll never believe what Mom did today..

Winnie: Yeah?

Cohen: So even after I was playing Legos with her for like an HOUR, I leave to get something from my room and all the sudden it gets really quiet and I'm like "uh oh" and I don't see her anywhere.  Sure enough, I go in her room and she's hitting buttons on the laptop.  Said she was BLOGGING.  Where they come up with these words, I don't even know.

Winnie: Geez, you leave them alone for a second....but at least they've got an amusing imagination.

Cohen: I know, as soon as it gets really quiet, you know they're up to something

Winnie:  Yeah, the other day I was trying to work on my drawing, and before I knew it, Papa had locked himself in the bathroom!  

Cohen:  I can't wait til they both get to Nursing Home age

Baby Pip: Well you can all quit complaining, since I'm the one who spends all DAY keeping them occupied.  And when was the last time either of you woke up with Mom in the middle of the night?  

Also, they probably have conversations about how we come in to distract them every time THEY are trying to do something interesting/absorbing/necessary like giving themselves a haircut, feeding the baby, or granting their bunny freedom.  I don't know that it makes me feel any better that our frustration with each other appears to be mutual, but at least our affection appears to be mutual as well.  

Anyways, thats pretty much been our day to day life with the exception of a weekend excursion to the ancient city of Dali with some friends.  It's not all it's cracked up to be.  I realized American tourists go somewhere in order to find a spot where no one else is, to have a unique experience, maybe buy/see/eat stuff that you couldn't find anywhere else in the world.  Chinese tourists go somewhere to be where everyone else is and to buy/see/eat the same cheap touristy stuff that we could get at our local convenience store.  For this, we drove 5 hours through mountain roads with 11 people (7 of them children 5 and under) in a microvan (Yes, I said microvan.  This is not a minivan, and way different than your Town and Country with heated bucket seats and personal DVD players.  It is literally a miniature version of a van.  See footnote for further discussion of Chines vehicular safety and quality standards).  In spite of being surrounded by stunning mountains, everybody seemed baffled when we were asking around 

for places to go hiking.  

Us: How do we get to Chengshan mountain?

Chinese person: Why would you want to go to the mountain?

Us: To go hiking

Chinese person: Go what?

Us: Like to walk around

Chinese person: But you can walk around the city!

Us: But there are so many people

Chinese person: I know!!!  (big smile)

End of the story is that we got to the mountain. Moral of the story is that I will never understand Chinese people.  

The kids had fun.  I don't know if I can say as much for their friends who ended up pretty drenched.

Or maybe they were more annoyed by us than by the rain.  This guy does not seem pleased by Winnie's attention.  Hard to say.

It was worth it though, I could feel myself breathing easier as soon as I started to see green space.  That might also have been the lack of smog.  We tried to see Erhai lake as well, but of course my idea of a peaceful lakeside retreat was very different than Chinese people's

It took us a while but we finally found a secluded spot.  Of course it was only a matter of time before we became a stop on some Chinese tour and had to leave because we got tired of having our picture taken.  Our friend later taught us the phrase "Wu shi kuai ee jiang," which made the rest of our trip substantially more pleasant.  It means "50 renminbi for a picture."  That generally shuts people up.

*A well known Chinese car company has just designed its first car intended for export.  When tested by a German company they said they had never seen anything like it.  In a crash where speed of impact was 25 mph, every single person in the car would be dead.  I don't like to think about what would have happened to us in this thing.

  

They call it a "meinbou che" which means "bread loaf car."  Aptly put.  

 

That's all for today.  The kids caught me. 

 

 

Clip show...

You know how on TV shows the writers get lazy and just paste together a bunch of previous material?  Well this is kind of like that.  Just upload some old pictures, and pass it off as a look back through what's happened during our time here.

Our goodbye party....alternatively titled "how an Ahrens ages"

Some respite in CA before the big adventure

but no escape from Chinese tourists...even in the US

The only way to pass the time in a Chinese hotel

The meat department in a Chinese WalMart

Yum

Now you know why we ate Skippy for a whole month....

Now for some bright spots.  We made friend...

Posed by some touristy statues

More touristy statues...

Enjoyed the sunshine...

The tropical breeze....

Found some grass....

And some clover.....

Don't know what we did here, but I'm sure it was fun....

Took our first scooter ride....Started learning to crawl by ourselves...

Started learning ride a scooter by ourselves...

Started learning to poop by ourselves...
Learned to crawl better....

Still played cowboy...

And monkeyed around...

And made glorious messes...

Found tiny cute friends...

And even cuter (not so tiny) brothers...

Went to Hong Kong, only to find the food was even weirder...

Did some more touristy poses...

  And touristy photos of the Hong Kong harbor....

But mostly sat in a Hong Kong hotel waiting for the rain to stop...

Cohen should caption this one, since apparently he had something important to say....

At least Hong Kong had clean water...

And Cuban cigars........

.
 Which we naturally smuggled back into China...

Life here pretty much goes on as usual....

Still have to do our everyday chores....

And keep an eye on this guy....

We have our bad days...

But overall, we're pretty blessed.  And we have chopsticks galore...

In Loving Memory

Apologies for not keeping people up-to-date.  Like John said, we have had several moves and are just now getting settled into our new apartment and new schedule.  More than that though, I felt a bit unsettled chattering on about our day to day life without saying something to pay at least a small tribute to our Grandma Joan, especially since we were not able to be at home and celebrate her life with the rest of our family...

Grandma Joan was the quintessential grandmother.  From her closely cropped curls, to pot roast dinners, she embodied the stereotype of what a grandmother ought to be.  She was a "grand" mother, by the strictest definition.  Even if she barely stood taller than my shoulder, I can't help but think of a "Grand" Admiral, or a "Grand" Vizier, a  master of their domain; someone who has, through years of patience and practice, reached some sort of pinnacle of their calling.  As a mother, my calling mostly involves ensuring my children survive until bedtime and, hopefully, until next week.  Mothering is "don't jump in the pond!" and "you just ate 5 minutes ago!" and "how the did you get on the roof?!?!?"  Grand mothering is "would you like me to read another book?" and "sit right here in my lap," and "how about another cookie?"  Grandmothering isn't just keeping children clothed and fed, it is hand crocheted blankets and that extra cookie after dinner.  

And part of me thinks that this would be impossible to emulate.  By my reasoning, I'm too worried about making sure my children aren't eating the poop that's mysteriously smeared on the floor to worried about "extras."  By a grandmother's reasoning, what child in their right mind wants to eat poop when there are cookies?  I haven't had the opportunity that age gave Grandma Joan to realize that what I think are "extras" are really essentials.  That when you pare away life's clutter, you let go of anxiety and achievement in favor of love and laughter and extravagant nurture and tulips and daffodils and chocolate chip cookies.  

And so, I hope I can emulate her in some small ways.  That I can smile brightly, make easter baskets, grow a garden and open my heart and my home to others.  That I can age gently and gracefully; that my face can melt into laugh lines framing lively eyes, and that I can give so much of myself to others that, when I am gone, my daughters and grand-daughters will know what it means to nourish and nurture and will pass those blessings on again to their children.  And, John hopes, one day I may come close to baking her world-class cookies.      

A Home in China

This is John. We just moved again. Our fourth move since leaving Big Rock on February 13 and third since we arrived in Kunming two months ago. We moved yesterday to a place in the west of the city. This place will be our home for the next year at least. You can try copy/paste the following address into Google Maps and it should bring up our location. (西站立交桥，志城家园 ，4 懂，1单元， 1101 。 xizhan li jiaoqiao , zhichengjiayuan , building 4, unit 1 , apartment 1101 )

We signed a contract for a year. Interestingly, rent is paid in 3, 6, or 12 month increments so we had to pay for 6 months up front. A little unnerving to part with the money to a total stranger, but that is how things are done here and I'm beginning to think that it might be a good idea for the US. It definitely promotes saving money.

We love our new place and I'll try to post a video tour. In 36 hours, I think we have said "I love this place" about 100 times. It has a great view and rooftop access where we can do whatever we want (garden, grill, etc.). It's the biggest apartment we have seen. It is a 3/2 but the third bedroom is a loft that we plan on renting out. The view is fantastic and lets us see the mountains.

We also bought an electric scooter which is the best way to travel around the city and certainly more fun than any other mode of transport. Any excuse to go out is really an excuse to ride the scooter. I love it. As soon as we get home I'm getting a motorcycle.

Lost in Translation

Things have gotten better here. Much better. We've met some wonderful people, John has a pipe­smoking buddy (who has a five year old daughter Cohen is very taken with), we have a top floor apartment with access to our own private rooftop, we've found our way to some local produce markets (goodbye Skippy!) and we've found a few quiet(ish), green(ish) parks to give us respite from the city. They can only be so green because they don't seem to believe in grass here, just paved walkways through tropical garden plants. They can also only be so quiet because they are always full of old people doing Tai Chi or watching their one grandchild. The parks aren't necessarily crowded with them, but of course they all crowd around us, so it's all the same. I don't understand much of what they say, but I can usually recognise "San Ge!" (Three children!) "hao piao liang!" (beautiful) and generally understand through their concerned faces and hand gestures that my children aren't dressed warmly enough. Apparently it's Chinese custom to dress your child in pants and long sleeves, put a sweater on them and then mummify them in a fleece blanket before putting them in a baby carrier strapped to your back. It's about 75 degrees here every day.

All that being said, the language barrier continues to be a constant source of aggravation and amusement. We have puns in English, but the tonal nature of the Chinese language creates possibilities that would make Shakespeare weep for joy and make me want to cry. For instance, "Wo she Yingwen laoshe," when said with the proper inflection, translates: "I am English teacher." Of course, depending on whether you use an upward or downward inflection (and I can't for the life of me remember which!) with the word "laoshe," I could be trying to get past the security guard at the kindergarten where I teach by saying "I am English shit."  The potential to be offend every time I open my mouth is incredible. Apparently I can't cut a pear in half and give it to a friend because "pear" with a different inflection means "friend" and "to split," as in cutting the pear in half, can also be used in context of breaking off a friendship. I also can't hand a clock or watch to an old person because, with a different tone, the word "death" and the word "clock" are the same. So apparently, by handing them my watch, I'm saying "I wish you were dead."  John spent a whole day calling our housekeeper "Ay-nee" rather than "Ay-ee," so instead of saying "aunt," which is a respectful way of addressing a middle aged woman, he was saying "love you."

There are some reverse translations which can potentially be even more offensive.  For instance, take the Chinese habit of using the word "that" repeatedly in place of "umm" or "like" when they are thinking of what to say. "That" is translated "Na Ge," which when said quickly sounds like "nu­guh, nu­guh" and when said with the Kunming accent sounds like "nigga, nigga, nigga."  Also potentially problematic.

The good news is, feeling lost when trying to communicate is no problem when compared with the aggravation of getting literally lost.  Lost as in a 3 1/2 hour trip that was supposed to be a ten minute bus ride from home to Wal-Mart and back.  Lost as in getting off a bus and realizing that the same bus won't take you back home.  Lost as in realizing you don't even know where home is.  Lost as in wandering deserted streets at 10 pm with a dead cellphone.  Lost as in not being able to tell a taxi driver a single landmark that could even get you near home.  Lost as in not being able to tell a taxi driver anything at all because you'd probably end up telling him you are shit and you hope he dies.

If I was a good enough writer (or if I cared more about appearing to be a good writer than I cared about going to bed right now) I would use all this as a metaphor to tease out some broader life lesson.         But I think most people can tease out the broader application for themselves-Life doesn't make a lot of sense.  You think you're going somewhere but you're mostly wandering around trying to figure out where you're going so you can get there.

And eventually you get home.