Ten things I love/hate about you

Recently we passed our one year anniversary of being in China. It has been interesting to welcome the new teachers to Raymond’s school and realise how different it is to be returning rather than arriving.

So it seems a good time to summarise the year with a list of ten things I like and ten things I do not like about living here. In no particular order:

I like:

  1. various transport options. I like having buses, metro and rental bikes to choose form for any route. It is wonderful not having to know the timetable for, or having to run to catch, the bus or metro, because I know another one will arrive within five minutes, if not sooner. Some locals run, which fascinates me and shows that we are all products of what we experience as normal. They should never move to New Zealand.
  2. living in such a technology rich environment. Chinese have apps for everything. Our favourite apps that make such a difference to our lives here are:
    • Alipay, to scan a barcode with our phone and pay for everything however big or small
    • Pandabus, uses GPS to works out where in the city or country we are and then tell us what buses are nearby and their routes
    • Beaver Home, means I can book and pay for beauticians to come and offer a wide range of beauty treatments in my apartment
    • Mobike, enables us to unlock one of the bikes dotted all over the city, ride it for as long as we want, automatically pay a small fee (20-60c), and stop paying as soon as we lock it.
  3. shopping at the market where fruit and vegetables are seasonal, and we interact with human beings each purchase. After a year, we are still to settle on regular places to buy our pork and vegetables. For other things, our regular suppliers, primarily selected because of their friendliness to struggling foreigners, are
    • hardware store couple
    • potatoes and kumara man
    • several fruit women – none of them have everything we like
    • walnuts and fruit woman
    • the chicken lady, and the duck man
    • peanuts and oatmeal young woman
    • biscuit and cake couple who bake our Saturday morning tea on site.
  4. our slower pace of life. Most evenings, Raymond and I sit out on our balcony, in sleeping bags in the cool months, enjoy our beautiful  view over the (man-made)lake and river, people watching in the park and talking. I am working part-time, and he has small classes and doesn’t manage lots of football teams. And apartment living doesn’t take much time.
  5. learning Chinese. I have always wanted to learn a language. I was good at languages at school and have sometimes regretted that I did not continue with that part of my academic study. So I am loving tapping into this side of me and it is so obviously useful. I am particularly enjoying learning the Chinese characters, which, at the beginning, I assumed I would not do.
  6. making new friends. We have met some lovely people, both local, kiwi and from other parts of the world. As in New Zealand, we click better with a subset of those, and have forged some fun, deep connections. The transient nature of ex-pat lives means they tend to be open to socialize with us, but locals are harder to get to know well, With both ex-pats and locals, there are cross-cultural aspects to navigate, and it is always nice to meet up with kiwis.
  7. being half way between the two places where our children live. With two daughters in London and two sons in Wellington, it is nice to be able to travel north or south to meet up with them. Last Christmas, we met the girls and their partners in Germany, and this Christmas plan to meet them in Russia. We couldn’t do that if we were still in New Zealand. At the same time, we have been able to go back to New Zealand twice. Raymond’s school gives us one trip, and we have made the most of the new super cheap flights direct to Auckland.
  8. being able to travel. As well as being half way to Europe, China in particular, and Asia generally, fascinate us. We enjoyed going to Laos and Vietnam this year, and are loving traveling in China. As my Chinese language grows, and we build our knowledge of how things work, we can travel more like locals, on trains and buses, and selecting accommodation on price for quality rather than having an English speaker. This then helps keep prices down. I have planned out our next two longer holidays with fascinating trips and there is still so much more to see in China.
  9. new experiences every day. After a year, we feel like we have only just begun. Just this week, I have been out with a colleague twice for lunch and had two types of food I have not had before – one was some Korean dish, and the other a very fine pancake with egg swirled on it, and a chicken, lettuce and crunchy things filling. Even when we do things we have done before, they can be new experiences, like taking our kiwi friends to have hot pot and being the experts rather than the trainees, or going to the large shops in town and taking a different route which means we discovered a lovely tranquil temple environment.
  10. feeling so alive. Linked to number 9, we are continually being surprised, amused, challenged, or a mixture of all three. Just as a day in Wellington can include four seasons, a day here often includes a full range of emotions.

I don’t like:

  1. struggling to communicate at work and play. As my Chinese improves, the play part is becoming less frustrating. Now I can usually say enough to shop and travel. However, at work, my language is woefully inadequate. After 12 months, I tend to sit in a meeting where Chinese is being spoken (entirely reasonable given where we are) and only understand pronouns and conjunctions – “We … but she can … New Zealand … and they … so … .Yes.” This is solid progress compared to a year ago, but does not give me much more information.
  2. being so dependent on others at work. Right now this is my biggest ‘hate’. When Brightsparks began, I could work relatively independently, and only relied on my business partners with their good English – strategizing, developing our services, writing marketing materials in English, working with the English speaking web designer, and connecting with NZ institutions. Our next steps involve working with local staff to translate and do graphic design of print materials, researching the Chinese market, and communicating with Chinese partners and customers. I cannot do this because I do not read, understand or speak the language. My partners and staff in their other company are there to help but I have to wait for them to fit it in between their paying work. I am used to being able to solve problems myself and really struggle with this one.
  3. not earning money yet. When I decided to start Brightsparks, I did not think everything would take so long, but it has – see above. We have set ourselves a financial target for the middle of next year, so it is early days yet. Raymond and I have food on the table and a roof over our heads, and can still travel. But, our anniversary of being here has amplified this aspect, and I am still working it through.
  4. missing friends and family. I miss our special people, especially not being there for our granddaughter’s milestones. Although, technology really helps. I feel like we are keeping up with family developments, and it can mean that we all share thoughts and pictures with one another that we might not know about if we lived in the same city.
  5. grey skies and pollution in winter. People who leave Chengdu often say they are leaving because of the cold, damp, grey winters where your first activity in the morning is to look at the air pollution level on your phone. I was relatively protected from this last winter because I ended up being away for eight weeks. But it does affect you emotionally. At the moment, the sky is often blue which is a frequent topic of conversation.
  6. taking half an hour to find something to watch on TV. We haven’t really mastered movie watching here. We have cable option which is very cheap and ahs one English news cahnnel, one English move channel with titles in Chinese so it has toahve started to know what it is, and many back channels which change their content regularly. A decision to ‘watch TV’ means clicking through these back channels to try to find a movie that we might want to watch. Our pattern is that we decide we want to watch TV, I start clicking while Raymond cooks dinner and hopefully I have found something by the time he is finished. Sometimes, we then start watching only to find 20 minutes in that we need to pay to watch it. We have just worked out how to do this on Alipay which is very simple, and nto that expensive.
  7. vpn and slow internet. Our internet speed in our apartment is not that bad, but once we use vpn it slows right down. And western countries tend to be so Google, Facebook and YouTube dependent. Quite a few websites are Google based in how they work. In the west, you don’t notice because they just work. I have learned that if the circle keeps spinning, the site probably uses some Google system as part of its functionality. We tend not to miss the actual apps because now we use Chinese alternatives. But sometimes we can’t, such as watching our children’s ultimate games live streamed or recorded, from Europe and Australia. Watching our boys play in the Australian Nationals, I coud see the comments about the end of the game when I still had ten minutes left to watch. While Raymond was in New Zealand, to view Marah’s recorded games, I watched a minute, reviewed Chinese for ten minutes while the next minute downloaded, then repeated. And slowness over vpn makes it difficult to use sites like Netflix. Luckily, we like sitting on our balcony too.
  8. things can be so far away. We have shops, restaurants and our market nearby and friends in the same apartment block. However, anything else tends to be ‘miles away’, as you would expect in a city of 18 million people. We have two responses to this – ridiculous optimism, where we underestimate the travel time by about an hour; and reluctance, where we wonder if it is worth it, and consider sitting on the balcony instead. We have a few routes that we know well and can predict accurately, but off those routes, we can still get hopelessly lost and double the time. And even when we map it out well and go straight there, an hour can have flown by because it is just a long way away.
  9. crowded metro and buses. We live half way between the centre of the city and the southern extremity,  next to a park. So, most of the time, it doesn’t feel like we are in a city with four times the population of New Zealand. However, when we catch the metro, it does. Most times of the day or night, it is crowded, often claustrophobically so. I have no idea where all the people are going, but it can be hard to handle for a Wellingtonian. We often take the bus because it tends to be emptier, but occasionally buses get incredibly crowded too. I  think the bus is full and then ten more people squeeze on.
  10. only being able to think of nine things I don’t like – not such a bad thing.

 

端午节 Dragon Boat Festival

It is now four weeks since Dragon Boat Festival and I finally have a chance to blog about it, before the memories fade completely.

端午节 means ‘double fifth festival’ and is so called because it falls on the fifth day of the fifth month. However, the date follows the moon driven Chinese calendar so this year it fell on 30 May. Raymond had four days off school – Sat 27 May to Tues 30 May.

Saturday we blobbed as for any weekend, went out for dinner with a couple of kiwis from one of  Brightsparks’ partner schools, and packed for our first ever camping expedition.

Raymond is on holiday in New Zealand as I write, but has promised to blog next week, before we both go to Vietnam, about his work experiences in China. However (spoiler alert), I can tell you that he is finding new opportunities for professional development stimulating and enjoyable. One of those new things is being part of the team introducing the Duke of Edinburgh (D of E) award to Lemàn.

Raymond and the other two members of the D of E team had organised this camping trip to check out a possible location to which to take the students. I along with sundry other camping-interested staff and various significant others tagged along for the experience.  As always, not speaking the language introduces challenges and the teachers need to go with a local guide for ease and safety, so she also was being checked out. This is about taking 20 students away overnight, with the aim of stretching and developing but still bringing them back alive.

So we got up early Sunday morning and headed in on the metro to where we were all meeting the van, setting off from town about 8am, aiming to stop for lunch on the way and, based on it being a four hour trip, arrive early afternoon. Lesson #1, do not travel during a national holiday. Our 4+1 hour trip doubled to ten hours.

Initially, we made good progress, but the first clue things would take longer was when the off ramp we wanted to take was closed because of work being done in a tunnel on that road. So, we, along with all the other people who would have preferred to go that way, inched forward, eventually coming to a stand still. We played cards, talked, joked together, and people watched. Some people got out and stretched their legs, or took their children for a stroll. One elderly woman found the wait too long, and climbed over the metal railing beside the road to relieve herself behind her daughter’s strategically held umbrella. It turned out we were merging from one lane to two, to go through another tunnel which was also being worked on – not while we were going through, but the big earth moving equipment sat there meaning no vehicles could go in the right hand lane.

After we were through the tunnel, the traffic moved well. Our next delay, close to our final destination was when a couple of guards stopped us to check our tickets for the tourist area we were heading into. Our guide, a petite young woman, who much of the way had been snoozing up the front by our driver, was very impressive the way she stood up to the three men in uniform. She insisted that we were not going as far as the area for which you need tickets, so should not pay for them. The stand off continued for a while, ending with a compromise where she bought some tickets that we did not need, and they did not insist that we purchase the full number.

 

So, we arrived about 6pm. We explored down by the river, then all chose flattish spaces without rocks to put up our tents, and gathered firewood for our campfire. We drove in the van back to the nearby village to eat dinner in a small local restaurant, with meat hanging overhead and the warmth of the big wood oven heating the room. Back to our campsite and toasting marshmallows over the fire, before all heading to our tents to sleep. It was surprisingly comfortable with just a thin bed roll between us and the ground. The grassish plant was quite spongy and added softness, and we managed to avoid the stones – and snakes! Coming from a country without snakes, Raymond was a bit startled when a student found, and shared, a massive snake at school. It made him rethink camping in China – but so far so good.

 

Raymond and I were first up (mainly because he felt a bit nauseous and started the day throwing up – we never did work out why, as everyone else was ok), and we enjoyed a brisk morning walk along the road before the others got up. Then we all packed up our overnight homes and returned to the village for breakfast. Afterwards, our hosts brought our horses and we set off up the mountain, some walking and some riding. Raymond still wasn’t feeling 100%, so he walked the whole way, and I was feeling lazy so I rode the whole way. At the top, I still got enough opportunity to exercise to enjoy the stunning views of the valley and snow covered mountains. We relaxed up the top for a while, then meandered down the hill before rejoining the horses for the final flat section, and back to the village.

 

Lunch was Sìchuān Hotpot – a mild version for we westerners at one table and a spicier version for locals at the other table. Hotpot is very popular over here in the south west, and the ultimate in Sìchuān food. It is like a spicy fondue. You have hot oil and chillies in a large centrally heated container on the table. The restaurant brings finely sliced meat and vegetables, which you pick up with your chopsticks and put in the shared vat until they are cooked, then pick them out and eat them. As you might imagine, we novice chopstick users sometimes lose our treasures or cook them for longer than we need to while we fish around for where they might have gone. One of our group does not like any spiciness. Our guide said that she could do what locals do with children – have a bowl of hot water by her plate and wash the spicy oil off the meat and vegetables. She did this until her water turned red, replacing it with clear water as required. I asked when locals introduce their children to the hot spicy food. “At least by four years old, because they need to eat in the cafeteria when they start school.” When eating with locals, we have learned to say that we don’t like hot food. If we say, as we did at the beginning, that we like a bit of heat, they provide food that we think is really hot. If we say, we don’t like it hot, we get food that we think has a nice kick to it.

(To give an idea of hotpot’s popularity, I recently took a kiwi visitor to the Tibetan Quarter. We wanted to try Tibetan food for dinner. However, all we could find were hotpot restaurants full of people. We finally found a Tibetan restaurant with a couple of customers but nobody appeared to serve us. Eventually, we made do with steak, and fish and chips, in a restaurant that turned out to be less Tibetan than it looked from the outside.)

Back in the van and a six hour trip back. The same tunnel was a bit of a bottle neck and we slowed down as we got near the city, but it was not nearly as long as our journey there.

Tuesday was the official holiday. Like me, you might have thought that this festival would include seeing dragon boating. Possibly there was some happening, but we never heard of it. Our only festival specific activity was eating 粽子(zòngzi) – pyramid-shaped dumplings made of glutinous rice wrapped in bamboo leaves. We had both been given them from our workplaces, in their not so traditional vacuum sealed plastic wrapping. We looked on the internet to see how to cook them, using our steamer that we bought for making steamed dumplings with the dumpling casings we see at our local market. Zòngzi were okay – glad we tried them, but won’t rush to buy them. I did wonder if little children remember them fondly because they are little parcels tied up with string and have different fillings so you don’t know what will be inside them – like my memory of my grandmother’s Christmas pudding.

 

Raymond’s school also gave us a salted duck egg, another festival delicacy. Our egg was salted by being packed in damp, salted charcoal, which we had to chip off. We read online that salting it not only preserves it, but is a way to disguise the strong duck egg smell – not in our experience! I nearly threw up when I breathed just after the charcoal came off, and Raymond, who is usually more willing to give things a go, rejected it immediately.

 

So, our first dragon boat festival was interesting and pleasant, but did not remotely resemble the images, based on our daughter’s dragon boating in New Zealand, that my mind conjured up when I read the words on Raymond’s school calendar.

We have been here almost a year. It has gone so quickly. We have experienced the full cycle of festivals, seasons, and events. So much seems normal, so much still to learn. What surprises are in store for us in our second year?

 

Roller coaster low

Last week on Wednesday, about ten months in to our adventure, I hit a low and I don’t fully understand why. It came out of the blue and this blog is written on Thursday  – me processing what was happening inside me as part of helping myself through it. I needed to wait a couple of days to post it.  I wanted to provide the context of my Working in China #1 post, which I was part way through writing. And  it seemed prudent to check I had not written things I would later regret when I felt more positive – but no editing, this is how it was.

roller-coaster

Symptoms

The last few days I have been fragile and getting weepy at everything – Sally sending a link to their beautiful wedding photos from February, mothers day messages from my children, a messaging conversation with my son, my business partners postponing a meeting, the air conditioning not working at work and struggling to find a fan, a Chinese colleague not able to understand my English then telling me not to use my Chinese to talk to him, being alone in my office because my colleague is away, Raymond being caring, Raymond not being caring, my Chinese friend postponing lunch, still working on Brightsparks marketing materials after six months.

Reasons

I think it is harder than I admit to myself to navigate the various things I am having to navigate while we are here. My strength is that I relish taking on new things, attack them with vigour, am quite self-motivated, and persevere when they get difficult. My weakness is that I am not good at reading signs of stress in myself or being honest with myself when things are difficult. Weepiness is the only way I realise it is happening.

I had already admitted to myself a couple of things were a bit tricky for me at work – working across cultures and language, and starting a business from scratch.  Last time I set up a company, I had a partner with similar expertise who was also a good friend, a few big jobs to start us off, and a wide support network, some of whom were also starting out on their own. And I knew the language and all the rules, so I could work quickly and efficiently on my own or with others. This time, I am the only one with the specialist knowledge of New Zealand education, so I need to work at a level of detail that I find emotionally draining. I am still building my network here, so my fewer connections are not so able to offer ‘help, I am struggling’ support in the way my New Zealand colleagues who were also friends could. Some of my colleagues do not have good English, and understandably, they have other priorities. And I don’t know the language or rules.

However, I have different support here. I have two great business partners with expertise that I can never have to help me navigate China, an amazing colleague who is working for love like I am while we have no revenue, a wonderful graphic designer who is also my daughter to develop our website, and my business partners’ wider team who are researching, translating, applying, and designing, as well as giving me a business roof over my head and standard office support.

I think the straw that has broken the camels’ back is moving office space to be just the two of us, rather than in a larger office with all the other ex-pats chatting around me, followed by my colleague going back to the US for a few weeks. I find people energising, and writing marketing materials de-energising. And, my closest people connections, the conversations through the wall, are in Chinese so I can’t even sneak some energy through eaves-dropping. Above a certain volume, it becomes irritating noise distracting me from my writing.

So I am feeling lonely during the week. Raymond and I are in the groove of arranging social activities each weekend.  These friendships are at the new and exciting stage, which is nice, but different to the comfortable, we have known you guys for years, friendships we enjoy in New Zealand and Australia.

Post weepiness reflection, I think my ‘but I love new things and puzzles’ brain might be a bit worn out too. I am spending every spare moment trying to learn Chinese on top of my work challenges and my ‘moving to a very different country’ challenges. Sometimes driving along on the bus, I say to my brain ‘stop, just relax, don’t keep trying to work out those characters, or what she (the automated woman voice, not the woman in the next seat) is saying’. But, with all the stimuli, it seems hard to turn my brain off.  (Although, generally Chinese language learning is quite energising for me – I have always liked doing puzzles to relax.) Maybe not knowing what is going on is more what is taking its toll. I do like to know what is going on.

And, things are more normal. We have our weekly routine, we are traveling regularly, but spend weekends just blobbing here as we would anywhere. It is good and important to do this, but it might mean less adrenaline to keep me going.

And I miss my special people – say no more.

Solutions

Blog – to help me analyse what is happening, listen to my body, accept I am who I am, remember what really matters to me, and act to achieve that. (Been very therapeutic.)

Use my support network, be honest and ask for help. I have the best husband I could hope for, friends and family here and across the world to call on, others here who are going, or have gone, through similar things – and my belief in a God who is always with me, cares and will listen.

Remind myself most of the work stuff is temporary. My colleague will be back in a week or two, the marketing materials are almost done, the next stage is much more relational, we might be moving offices soon.

Remember what I have achieved, and set realistic goals. Obviously, the timelines for having the materials done, and for being able to relate effectively to others in Chinese were unrealistic. I am making progress.

Embrace the learning – that is a big part of why we are here!

Post-script

By Friday I was much better – blogging, talking to my friend in NZ for over two hours (mixture of laughing and crying), good progress on our partners booklet, lunch and a positive meeting about a new opportunity with my business partners, and Raymond’s support, all did the trick.

Tiger Leaping Gorge and Lìjiāng

Last weekend was Labour weekend in China, so Raymond and I headed south to explore Yúnnán for the three days. We had read of stunning scenery at a place called Tiger Leaping Gorge (Hŭ Tiaò Xiá). To get there we flew 1.5 hours to Lìjiāng (lovely river), famous for its ‘old town’.

To travel in China, we are learning it is easier if we research on the web ahead of time. I think this is useful anywhere, but especially relevant with limited language and so many choices. We are so appreciative of others’ help that I have decided to give a bit more advice when I blog about our trips, to give back to the travel community, and set a few things straight. All those 20 something bloggers who said that the Tiger Leaping Gorge route was pretty easy except for the one hour steep section going up the 28 zigzags were wrong! But I am getting ahead of myself. Let’s start at the beginning.

To go to the airport, we use a ‘black taxi’. I have mentioned Joe before. He is a highly professional, reliable, pleasant driver who many of the teachers from Raymond’s school use. So, when I went down on Friday at 1 pm to meet him, I was surprised to find that he was not there. I wechatted him and said I was waiting. He replied ‘please wait’.  I asked in Chinese ‘how many minutes?’ He said ‘What time is the plane?’ I asked in English ‘how many minutes?’ He replied ‘I am on my way and soon’, followed by another message asking if we wanted to start from our apartment or from Raymond’s school. I said ‘I will take a taxi’, and that is where Joe found me, walking the street looking for a taxi. It turned out that Raymond’s request to pick me up and then go to his school to pick him up, when translated from English to Chinese, asked Joe to pick Raymond up from school and then come and get me. Talk about lost in translation. Joe had been waiting at school, driven the 20 minutes from school to get me, and then we drove back to the school. On the way, as we talked about what had happened, I think he understood that another time (but hopefully we will communicate better next time) he should check before coming to get me, because Raymond could have got in first at school. Luckily, I had just revised how to say ‘first … then…’. And Raymond and I realised that, to minimise confusion, we need to give even simpler instructions – a lesson we thought we had already learned.

We caught our plane, uneventfully, arrived at Lìjiāng airport and decided to get a taxi into town. Our driver was upfront about the extra 10 kuài for tolls – total just over 110 kuài. She dropped us off outside Lìjiāng old town, both miming and talking to communicate that she could not drive us any further, and that we needed to cross the road, walk down a bit and take the first right. So off we went and discovered that this old town part of Lìjiāng is stunning. We loved it immediately. It must be what Chinese towns used to look like, now with a mixture of modern and traditional wares and food places, and lots of travel agencies.

We followed our driver’s instructions, walked along the cobblestones enjoying the ambience, reading the English and Chinese looking for our hotel – Lìjiāng Boutique Rénwén Inn. Because we are such experienced travelers, I had cleverly taken a screenshot of our hotel details. After walking the right hand loop, and not finding our hotel, we searched on Dù, our local maps app, and redid the loop. Ok, let’s try Google maps with VPN. Our various routes had taken us back and forth past a friendly gentleman encouraging people into his restaurant. So our next plan of attack was to ask him if he knew our hotel. He did, so he mimed and talked directions, which then made it a bit awkward when we needed to walk unsuccessfully past him a couple more times – just wave and smile. Plan C, or maybe D, was to pop into one of the many travel agencies. Number 1 was unhelpful, but number 2 was very clever. She rang the phone number and arranged for someone from our hotel to come and get us – highly recommended approach.

We followed our enthusiastic young host in the opposite direction to all our earlier routes, to the left of the main drag and Dù and Google’s suggestions. The name on the door did not match our hotel name. When I expressed concern, ‘chain hotel’ was the answer. It was a lovely little place, and unbelievably good value for about NZD20 per night. We are still not sure what really happened, but were happy.  Our young host and I communicated effectively in a mixture of Chinese and English, and his mum understood me, but I could not understand her.

I had read that tickets for the bus to the gorge tend to sell out so we asked our young host for advice on where to go to buy bus tickets. Armed with our paper map on which he had circled the bus stop and bus ticket sales outlet, we went back up to the main road, where our taxi had dropped us off, to catch a number 2 bus. We waited a while but no buses drove past, so we decided to get a taxi. Using our map, I arranged for the driver to take us, wait and return. Then Raymond hopped in grinning because our bus had gone past while I had my head in the window talking to the driver.

We drove through Lìjiāng getting a sense of the layout of the place, seeing the rest of the old town, cascading down the hill and lit up beautifully in the evening, and wound down the hill through the modern part to the ticket shop. Our driver dropped us off, we walked in the direction he had seemed to point, could not find anything resembling a bus ticket sales place, circled back, rejoined our driver who took us to a travel agent, who pointed over the road. There, we still struggled, and approached some street food vendors, one of whom hopped up, took us a minute further around, and pointed to the ticket shop – with its closed garage door. Oh well, let’s get up early tomorrow.

We went back to the friendly gentleman’s restaurant and had the local delicacy they recommended – which turned out to be chicken and mushroom soup, but not as we know it – brothy rather than creamy. She had encouraged us to share the smaller serving, which was just as well. The enormous bowl bubbled away on the gas burner on our table and we ate as much as we could, finally leaving half of it behind as we headed back to the hotel.

Saturday morning, we left our hotel at 7am, caught the famous number 2 bus to the shop, where in the light of day we could read the sign telling us the bus ticket place opening hours – 8am to 9pm. We only missed it by a few minutes last night, and an hour to go. Breakfast from our friendly street food vendors and let’s explore the park. A bit after 8am the sole woman employee opened the shop, stopped her sweeping when we arrived, walked behind the counter, started up her computer, was helpful but slow and 20 minutes later concluded ‘no tickets, but you can try the bus station’. What, you mean we could have gone there the whole time, including this morning and last night?!  We walked the ten minutes, found out that the earliest available seats were at 11am, and shared a car to the gorge with a Chinese couple who had got married the day before.

The driver showed us all where to buy tickets for the gorge, dropped us off at the beginning of the high level track, and then took our companions to the start of the one day lower level track.

The first part of the middle gorge walk is a concrete road with large trucks going up and down, and you look across the river to the massive infrastructure project on the other side, which we assume is part of China’s vision for high speed rail over the whole country. Not quite what I imagined when others described stunning scenery, but I am learning to go with the flow (eventually). It started off at a steady gradient, but manageable. Then the concrete stopped and it got really steep with steps winding up the hill – the famous 28 bends – I was glad when they were over. Dotted along the route were men with horses whose English extended to ‘horse’. Bú yào mă (don’t want a horse) I replied, tempted as I was – reasoning that the fact that I wanted one so much was evidence that I should not use one.

Then we couldn’t see the earthworks any more, the path became more undulating, we stopped for drinks and a nibble under the shade of a tree, chatted as we went to a couple of Swedish couples over from Shànghăi, and arrived at the first village.

As we walked past Naxi Guest House, we wondered if our hotel was nearby, four hours earlier than I understood from my web research – how encouraging. Then we came to a sign saying that it was another three hours to Tea Horse Guest House and two more to Halfway, where we were staying – how discouraging, an hour longer than I understood from my web research. But we had plenty of energy, were over the worst bit, and carried on.

Then we came to the real 28 bends – very steep, slabs of slate to walk on, path zig zagging vertically back and forth. Ten minutes walking, two minutes stopping – ‘ we have plenty of time’, ‘it is not a race’. Eventually, I set aside my feminist philosophy and gave Raymond my pack.I found it very hard work.

And then the worst was over. We stopped in the next village for a cup of tea and coffee and got talking to a couple of Chinese from Kūnmíng who had good English (although our conversation began with how good my Chinese had been when I ordered our drinks – instant friend!) They were there with their regular walking group, and talked about how the track used to be dominated by westerners, but was growing in popularity with Chinese tourists. Certainly, on our trip, three-quarters of those we saw looked Chinese.

Refuelled, we continued, but I never fully recovered – not helped by Raymond, Sofia from Kūnmíng, and I taking a half hour detour up a hill instead of along the flatter path, to which we then had to return (hour total). We finally arrived 7.5 hours after we had started, exhausted. We wonder whether the highish altitude affected us more than we realised at the time.

I had read good things about the Ben Li Wan Family Hotel and we were not disappointed – it was clean, our en suite shower was hot and sooooo what we needed, the food was delicious, the staff were helpful, including getting us as many pots of tea as we asked for, and the mountain view out of our room was stunning – in fact so stunning that before I went to sleep, I felt it was all worth it. And this place will forever be special to us – what a place to get the wonderful news that Andrew and Cindy were now engaged.

The next morning, we woke, had relaxed cups of tea and breakfast before setting off about 10am, feeling a bit pressured that as we were only halfway, we might not make it back in time, and thinking that if need be we would have to overnight at another guesthouse and go back to Lìjiāng on Monday.

But by 11.30am we had arrived at Tina’s Guesthouse. It turns out the other ‘half’ is this short jaunt, plus a three hour walk down to Tiger Leaping Stone and back, or other options to waterfalls etc. We decided not to bother – we felt we had seen so much lovely scenery on the way, and our feet were sore. Another tea and coffee and then we found a beautiful spot a few minutes away, and sat by the waterfall there and waited for the 3.30pm bus back to Lìjiāng , where we had already booked a second night at our friendly hotel.

My advice to other over 50s – with reasonable fitness levels but not quite what you used to be – is, yes, do the walk, but stop for your first night at Tea Horse Guest House five hours in, having done the 28 bends but not yet absolutely shattered (and avoid the detour). Then, day 2, leave from there about 10am confident that you will get to Tina’s in time for the 3.30pm bus. And, book bus tickets at Tea Horse. We did get bus tickets at Tina’s but, for reasons we never quite understood, it was not initially straight forward. We never made the trip down to the Tiger Leaping Stone so cannot comment on whether or not that would be worth it, but I would suggest staying a second night/third day to do that.

Back in Lìjiāng , we settled in and then went walking for somewhere to find dinner, eventually settling on a small local ‘restaurant’ with a very friendly hostess. There were only four tables, you could see her husband cooking behind the shelves. Our two key criteria were met – she called out and invited us in, which signals a willingness to work at communicating with foreigners, and there were pictures of food on the walls. We had a wonderful time – nice food, and chatting with our hostess and another older woman dining with her family, who seemed particularly fascinated by us and wanted to chat as much as my limited Chinese would allow. She knew New Zealand – that it is small and has milk.

The next day, we left our larger pack at our hotel and explored Lìjiāng old town. First, somewhere to eat breakfast – using our friendliness criteria again. Pictures were not necessary because we could see it all being cooked out the front. Then, we just wandered. We were entranced by the man making the shawls on his loom so I bought one, later realising that he can’t have made all the identical shawls being sold in every shawl shop in Lìjiāng. We found a place selling coffee to keep Raymond happy, and relaxed there people watching, including seeing how a couple cooked and packaged biscuits. These purple biscuits seemed to be famous in Lìjiāng because they also were being sold everywhere. Having watched the woman rolling out the biscuits pick her nose, we knew one place we didn’t want to buy them from. We enjoyed the ‘free’ (if you don’t count the fee to get into the old town) dancing show, then found the Experiencing Hall of Naxi Hieroglyphics Painting.

The Dongba hieroglyphics are the oldest living form of hieroglyphics, because they are still used today. Historical records show the script was used in 7th century, but it may be up to 7,000 years old. A single pictograph can be used to recite different phrases or an entire sentence. The script is logical – when a symbol is drawn upside down it indicates negation, straight lines drawn between people indicates ‘fight’, entwined lines represent ‘discuss’, and a dead animal is drawn as usual but without pupils in their eyes. We were quite fascinated. Eventually, we succumbed to temptation, and the focused attention of the salesman, to buy a hieroglyphics embroidery to remind us of our wonderful holiday.

Back to the hotel, pick up our pack and out to the airport. We had never managed to find out where the airport bus left from so decided to wave down a taxi. The first one to stop was a minivan already heading out there. The woman asked for 120 kuài . I thought ‘I know we can get it for 110 in a metered taxi’, so said, ‘No thanks, too expensive, I know we can get it cheaper’, thinking she would drop to 110. Next, she offered 70! My best bargaining yet. As we got out and I paid her, Raymond said ‘I think she likes you’ – I guess my amazing bargaining earned her respect.

Certainly, I was very encouraged on this trip that I seem to have graduated from Chinglish to the next stage – Chineglish? I can say whole sentences, effectively communicate on a range of useful travel topics, and everyone seems to understand me. Unfortunately,  they then talk back to me in Chinese and I still have to work out how to understand them.

So, another wonderful holiday, in a place we had never heard of before coming here, would strongly recommend, and which increases our fascination with our adopted country.

Dūjiāngyàn irrigation project

I have already posted about my fascination with China’s amazing history. This includes the more than two thousand year old irrigation system in Dūjiāngyàn, about an hour train ride from Chéngdū. This engineering feat was key to the Sìchuān region in which we live becoming the food basket of China and consequently important in China’s history.

As shown in the animation below, during the ‘Warring States’ period (453-221BC), the Qín province gradually took over the rest of China, unifying it for the first time and creating the short-lived Qín dynasty (221-207BC). The Emperor of this dynasty was the one with the ego massive enough to conquer the whole country and employ millions of people to create the terracotta army to look after him in the next life. It doesn’t seem that he was a very pleasant man. For example, when visiting the terracotta soldiers in Xīān, we heard that the advanced chrome plating technology died when he did because he made sure that the technical experts were buried alive in his tomb. However, he clearly encouraged and drew upon technological advances and we can thank his ego for contributing to our present understanding of the sophistication of Chinese culture and technology at that time.

Towards the end of this Warring States period, around 256 BC, the state of Qín, which by this time was large and aggressive, created the Dūjiāngyàn irrigation system to conserve water in the dry season and manage floods in the wet season.

Originally, each spring as the snow melted, the Mínjiāng (‘jiāng’ means river) rushed down from the Mínshān (shān means mountains) flooding the Chéngdū Plains, once it hit the silt filled flatlands. Traditionally, the solution would have been to build a dam, but the river needed to stay open to allow boats to take food to the troops conquering more lands in the east. The irrigation project harnessed the river for growing food, using a new method of channeling and dividing the water rather than simply following the old way of dam building. It took four years to build an embankment to divert the water, using stone filled bamboo baskets held in place with tripods. It took a further eight years to gouge out a 20 meter wide channel through the mountain. The Chinese had not yet invented gunpowder – they waited about a thousand years to do that. So, once they discovered how hard the rock was, the 256 BC engineers had to invent a way to split the rock. They used a combination of fire and water to heat and cool the rocks until they cracked and could be removed. It also took thousands of people to do the work. Lí Bīng, the governor of the time, was the master mind behind the whole thing, and is commemorated by a statue at the top of the hill. (I did not take a photo of his statue so you will have to make do with my photo of the plaque nearby, taken because I was struck by the quote saying this was more inspiring than the Great Wall.)

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The system is still in use today and irrigates over 5,300 square kilometers of land in the region. It is one of “three great hydraulic engineering projects” of the Qin Dynasty.

This project enabled the Qín region to produce three crops a year to feed its massive armies, and allow them to keep transporting the food to those armies, thus changing the history of China. The abundance of food the system enabled is also credited with leading to more free time and the subsequent laid back rich culture for which Sichuanese are now famous – and we have experienced and continue to enjoy.

As well as being historically interesting, we had heard it is beautiful, so it was on our list of things to do while here. A couple of weekends ago we, and a couple of friends, traveled to check it out. We enjoyed ourselves for several reasons:

  • it was nice to get out of the city and walk in a beautiful, interesting place – so different to a New Zealand experience because China’s beauty spots have been inhabited for thousands of years
  • we were getting to know friends better – making friends continues to be important to us – having arrived in a new country where the only person either of us know is each other
  • we were encouraged by being more skilled, and therefore more relaxed, travelers than our first time using public transport.

We caught the train. The general rule here is to buy tickets at least one day early to be sure you get a seat, and one of our friends did that for us – one way it was more relaxing. We got up early and traveled the 15 stops from our nearest metro station to the North Railway Station where our train would leave from. This was a new venue for us but we know the time to walk to our station, know where to look to see how long the metro would take, and were confident we could find our way to the boarding gate if we arrived a bit early – which proved to be the case. Last time, I checked out the bus station route beforehand to be sure.

The train was very pleasant. We almost missed our stop because we were so busy chatting – but I noticed it just in time. We followed the crowds to the bus stop, caught a bus into Dūjiāngyàn town, got off where it looked familiar to our friends who had been here once before, but didn’t remember details, and explored. It was a lovely mixture of historical buildings, traditional looking shops, street food and bush walking. We climbed up the hill, took the escalator to the very top, climbed up the high pagoda, enjoying the stunning views, then walked down the hill, across the swinging bridge, through the manicured gardens, and back to the quaint shopping area. We enjoyed drinks by the river and walked back to find somewhere for dinner by the river and bridge that was just being lit up, before heading back to catch the train.

It is an indicator of how much more relaxed we are becoming, that we nearly missed the train. To be safe we would have foregone dinner, but we wanted it. We thought we were fine, but the bus took longer than we predicted (all the time not being 100% sure that we were on the right one, despite my having asked the driver in Chinese if it went to the railway station and having been encouraged by his seeming to understand me and me him). We ran the short distance from the bus stop to the station, went straight through check in because by then nobody else was there, scrambled onto the train at the first open door, walked through a couple of carriages, and sat down in our seats literally one minute before the train pulled away. We had to ask a woman to move from our seats. She had reasonably assumed nobody would be using those four seats. Once I calmed down, I felt decidedly local!

Okay not local yet, but we feel we are on the way.

 

Some of the tea in China

I am an avid tea drinker. I have more cups of tea a day than I have cups of coffee a year. And, I am fascinated by the history and culture of China, which has to include understanding tea – 茶 (chá). So, when the Chéngdū Foreign Affairs Office, Chéngdū Education Bureau and PŭJiāng County Government invited teachers from Raymond’s school to a tea picking event, I (and therefore we) jumped at the chance.

There are Chinese records of tea consumption dating back to the 10th century, and the world’s earliest physical record indicates that Hàn Dynasty emperors were drinking tea for medicinal purposes in 2nd century BC. A popular Chinese tale takes it further, saying that in 2737 BC the legendary Emperor of China was drinking a bowl of just boiled water (interestingly, having decreed that his subjects must boil water before drinking it) and leaves from a nearby tree blew into his water. He took a sip, liked the flavour and tea was born. The first record of cultivation of tea, also from the 10th century, shows tea being cultivated on Méng Mountain (蒙山) near our beloved Chéngdū .

Tea spread to the rest of Asia from 6th century BC, was introduced from China to Portuguese priests and merchants in the 16th century and made it to Britain (and my ancestors) during the 17th century. Then the British, as they tended to do, actively changed the order of things, by introducing tea production, as well as tea consumption, to India, in order to compete with China’s monopoly on tea.

Last Saturday, at 7.50am, with some of  Raymond’s colleagues and their family members, we hopped on a bus the school provided, and traveled 1.5 hours from Chéngdū to PŭJiāng. I had that kiwi assumption thing going on – visiting tea plantations would mean a  rural environment. So when the bus stopped in an urban environment, I was quite surprised. We were ushered to a registration table with people everywhere, then into a nearby room with long log tables and two women performing a synchronised tea ceremony. We were given cups of tea in not-so-traditional paper cups, and some interesting looking biscuits that tasted very nice. A Chinese gentleman siting nearby told us, in broken English, that we were drinking the sparrow tongue tea famous in this region. It didn’t look like it was made from real sparrow tongues.

Next we were led out to a large number of seats and taken to those with the school’s name on. We were quite bemused by all of this because we had only skimmed the invitation email and had missed the fact that we were being invited to the opening ceremony for the annual Pu Jiang Tea Picking Festival. Luckily, we are getting used to going with the flow. We had translation headsets so could understand what was happening. We watched the Festival officially opened, the best tea pickers given their awards, a couple of contracts signed, and a number of dances.

Then we followed the crowd to the restaurant where we had an amazing lunch. We must have only eaten half of what was crammed onto our table. There were the usual local dishes, with our usual coping strategies. Avoid the dishes with the reddest sauce, pick out the chillies where necessary, only take the vegetables when unsure of the animal part in the meat dishes, and enjoy the dumplings and plain vegetables. The four foreigners at our table enjoyed the meatballs, which we have not seen here before. They tasted like I might have made (a few herbs, no spice, gravy rather than oily sauce) and the locals did not touch them. Maybe the chef made them specially.

After lunch, we followed the crowd again, donned our hats and tied on our tea picking baskets. Then we went behind the manicured gardens around the restaurant and there was a tea plantation – hiding behind all the buildings. We picked our way past the basketball court, through the mud and to the bushes. We were with Raymond’s colleague who speaks Chinese and his Chinese wife, so we found out exactly which bits to pick – take the sparrow tongue shaped bud in the centre and leave the outer leaves. When we reconvened others had not been so well trained. Most had picked the leaves and the centre, and one guy had only taken the leaves, leaving the central bud so the plant could survive. We laugh a lot here.

We handed in our leaves and traveled in the bus to a local school where they teach tea craft. We learned a bit of theory from sculptures depicting the eight steps of tea making. I remember three things. Traditionally, only young virgins were allowed to pick tea thanks to their purity. The leaves were rolled in bags using feet and hands – now they use machines. And, the text by the sculptures linked tea making and approaches to education – but I don’t remember the details – sorry.

Then we went into the school’s small factory, and saw the machines they use. We had a go at drying leaves in large electric heating bowls – wearing gloves to protect our hands. Fascinating, but luckily, we did not have to wait until our tea was dry enough to use. It got very repetitive after a short time. It must have been even more so for those doing it by hand over fires years ago.Then we were taken to try our hands at calligraphy and watch school children perform a short tàijí session.

Our last stop was a classroom set up to train students in tea ceremony. We were taken through a ceremony in all its detail. I don’t think we managed such graceful flourishes as our teacher, although I tried – and got rewarded by the official photographer grabbing his camera to capture the moment. I hope they got a good laugh from it later. And I am sure we spilled more tea into the tray below the beautiful wooden stand. However, we did glimpse the tradition and sense of occasion that a tea ceremony brings. We must appear boorish with our quick jiggle of a tea bag in our massive cups, and even more so if they saw my system in our kitchen for reusing tea bags. Even I think this looks unseemly – but it is practical in a world of limited tea bag access.

 

As we left, we were given a beautiful box with four types of tea in it.I tend to be set in my ways with tea. In our apartment, I usually use Liptons or Twinings English Breakfast, Early Grey or ‘gumboot’ teabags, just like back in New Zealand. We did buy some barley tea after enjoying it during our trip north east, and we occasionally drink that – but need to be in the mood. When I first started at work, my business partner gave me some Chinese black tea (hóng chá, literally red tea – it is as red as it is black if you think about it). I have branched out enough to drink this like a Chinese person – putting my leaves in a cup each morning and topping it up with water all through the day. One day I tried another colleague’s chrysanthemum tea – literally dried chrysanthemums in hot water. Mine was too weak for me to taste anything, but now I know what those things are that I see floating in others’ plastic bottles.

I have almost finished my box of black tea at work, so will take our new ones in and see if I can become more adventurous as well as more informed.

Working in China #1 (Terry)

One of the reasons we chose China ahead of Turkey and Malawi, where Raymond also got job offers, was that we believed there would be better work opportunities for me.

I had worked in vocational education for nearly 20 years, including international business development, and consulting – off shore and virtually in New Zealand. International education is New Zealand’s fourth largest export earner, and Chinese students choosing to study in New Zealand is the largest contributor to that. I thought I might be able to work in China, work virtually for a New Zealand company, or consult in the broader Asian region. I had had conversations back in New Zealand that made me feel optimistic about this.

Yes and no.

Once we got a bit settled I started networking and concluded that

  • I could work in China but a local job would be relatively poorly paid and mean I could not travel with Raymond in his many holidays, or have much time for learning Chinese
  • the New Zealand Consulate values my skills and experience but there were no NZ government opportunities in the short term
  • consulting might be an option, but again nothing immediately.

However, one opportunity popped up. I sought job hunting advice from a kiwi who has lived here for 25 years. He and his Chinese wife bring a wealth of experience, having run a business here for many years, and having helped many kiwi and other western companies enter the Chinese market.

After I shared my CV, and we met a couple of times, they invited me to go into business with them. It turns out that just before I arrived they had been approached by a group of New Zealand education providers to represent them in south west China. They were already seriously interested in this opportunity, and then I arrived with complementary skills to complete the leadership team. It appealed to me because I

  • would be working semi-locally with the chance to grow cross-culturally while not being fully immersed
  • could learn from two experienced mentors
  • could work flexibly i.e. still study Chinese, travel with Raymond, and consider small consulting opportunities if they arose.

The only downside was working for nothing initially (length of time still to be confirmed).

Brightsparks was born!

How have I found it? Long term readers of my blog will be able to predict the answer – a roller coaster.

Highs

  • having people to interact with during the day (I got lonely being a lady of leisure, even though I was initiating social connections as much as I could)
  • the stimulation of working and using my brain to work out stuff as one does in any job
  • the chance to problem solve and innovate,  and create something of quality from scratch
  • meeting interesting people and feeling more interesting myself
  • growing understanding of international education and the global world in which graduates will be working
  • growing understanding of doing business here, particularly as I work with my business partners
  • working on our website with my daughter, and seeing that she is not just amazing personally, but professionally as well
  • working with my volunteering colleague, without whom I might have gone crazy during the set-up phase of the work – she is bilingual, competent, unphased by China, and fun company
  • being flexible and autonomous in my work.

Lows –

  • challenges of starting from scratch, and always having to push myself, never being pulled
  • not having the language
  • working across cultural differences.

Every day it would be easier if I could speak Chinese. Work communication can be challenging enough in your own language. My first big success was asking in Chinese ‘Please give me the logo. Do you have my ’email’?’. Wahoo! I have tended to work through my bilingual colleague to get IT issues sorted, although recently she has been away and IT guy and I have had to cope on our own. Me starting with ‘please help me’ in Chinese, and seeing if he can work it out from there before bringing in the reinforcements, has worked surprisingly well.

Working cross-culturally is harder than in your own culture, which, again, can be challenging enough at work. I can’t trust what comes naturally, I don’t even know the rules well enough to consciously decide to work within them, and sometimes I have to accept things that from my perspective are not good.

A good example of all this was developing the Brightsparks brochure. The local graphic designer was working on it, guided by the branding on our new website, which my daughter Bek had developed. I worked closely with her by distance and loved the final result, although we have things we want to add to make it even better in phase two.

By contrast, to my eye, the first version of the brochure looked terrible – bright yellow with red writing, purple circle graphics to communicate about our process, crowded rather than simply elegant, and nothing that matched the website branding built on lovely New Zealand natural colours. I tried to think of something positive to say.

Quick checking with other young staff in the office confirmed the graphic designer’s view that young Chinese think bright yellow is much cooler than elegant blue. He stuck to his guns about some other elements too.

Over the next week, through my bilingual colleagues we discussed options, but relying on Chinese whispers I was never sure what was getting through about vision, messaging or branding – all things that it is easier to have iterative conversations about over a period of time. I am having to work out what I think on my own more than I used to. My natural style is bouncing ideas around.

We finally arrived at a halfway house that we are all happy with. The graphic designer added the two tone blue and kite imagery from the website, and some pictures of New Zealand apart from the Auckland sky tower. The trendy cartoon purple circles and red writing remain, ‘sandy’ yellow replaces sunset orange in the logo and will be added where possible to the website, and the front of the brochure is less cluttered.

And I am still not 100% sure what it says.

It was an interesting experience. What do I insist on, and what do I let go? As a non-Chinese older person developing a brochure for a young Chinese audience, I have to listen to others. But I decided good practice anywhere in the world means consistent branding.  And all the time, I need to depend on conversations happening in another language around me.

No wonder things take longer.

The good news is that late last week, the same graphic designer shared his first version of the front and back covers and first four pages of our present project – our partners booklet. I was prepared to have a similar experience as with the brochure. But we are all learning. I looked at it and was able to say what I had just learned in my Chinese lesson that morning – 完美 (wánmĕi – perfect)! He and my bilingual helper both smiled.

My only suggestion – let’s add a little bit of bright yellow!