With the arrival of July, the month I was born, conversations at my home have invariably shifted to discussing potential “birthday programs”, as my husband Jun likes to say. ….
This year, he has already begun sketching out details for a birthday trip to the Chengde Mountain Resort, where we can walk together hand in hand in the splendor of the former imperial summer palace and grounds, and hopefully take in some of the picturesque mountain views I’ve glimpsed in photographs online.
But while Jun has approached my birthday like a production, he has often seen his own birthday as just an afterthought.
At the end of April I made a brief trip to Southwest China’s Guiyang (capital of Guizhou province) and Nanning (a major inland city in Guangxi province). I wanted to take the chance to share are some of my favorite photos from that week:
We visited an ancient town in Guiyang, with hundreds of years of history and minority traditions in its rambling stone alleyways. Here I am having a conversation there while sampling some local green tea.
Guiyang is also a city on the move, with many emerging industries, from big data to even electric vehicles and buses. This factory we visited there produces electric buses. I also had my first ride on a self-driving bus, which took us for a short drive on the factory grounds.
I was surprised to discover a legal aid clinic nestled within a community center in Guiyang, and had the chance to meet and interview the head lawyer, Liu Yuanhe, who inspired my most recent column.
At the same community center in Guiyang, I tried my hand at Chinese calligraphy, with the help of a very patient volunteer instructor!
Nothing quite like tasting the “fruits” of agricultural labor firsthand — especially at this agricultural demonstration base in Nanning. The cherry tomatoes I sampled were organic and delicious!
In Nanning, we also visited a Zhuang minority brocade base, where the staff schooled me in the intricate art of weaving silk brocade into stunning designs.
I also had the opportunity there to try on some ethnic minority clothing, including this colorful outfit from the Miao ethnic group.
We visited a dragonfruit agricultural base as well, where we had the chance to visit the fields during the day…
And night as well. The lamps aren’t for show, but are actually used to stimulate the dragonfruit plants to stay in “production mode” 24 hours a day, boosting the productivity of the fields.
What an “enlightening” weeklong journey (sorry, couldn’t resist with the pun).
Have you ever been to Guiyang or Nanning in Southwest China?
How to hold a reed leaf was just one of the things I learned one evening in my mother-in-law’s kitchen in rural Zhejiang province, as she schooled me and my husband Jun in a delicious family tradition.
“Like this,” she said, cupping the leaf like a cone, a gesture we tried to imitate by subtly adjusting our own hands.
Next, we learned how much glutinous rice to add, watching her scoop a measuring cup of the grains into her reed leaf before we did the same. Then came the honey dates-only two, she said, placed right in the center and covered by more rice, before wrapping it up with the leaf followed by lengths of string.
Our new creations landed in my mother-in-law’s bamboo steamer, transforming them within minutes into that distinctive holiday snack known as zongzi, or rice dumplings.
Except, these zongzi weren’t made for that summer holiday in June.
Instead, we had bundled up in down jackets and layers of clothing, warming our hands in turns over the wok as we prepared the treats in the chilly night air, to welcome the arrival of Chinese New Year.
It might seem strange for zongzi, the quintessential Dragon Boat Festival snack, to appear in this winter holiday more associated with jiaozi dumplings. But for some reason, zongzi has transcended these traditional Dragon Boat Festival roots, to become a beloved food at nearly every important gathering in my husband’s family in Zhejiang.
China Daily just published my latest column titled Guiyang Legal Clinic Serves Up Remedy of Justice, detailing my encounter with a legal aid clinic nestled within a community in Guiyang, Southwest China’s Guizhou province. Here’s an excerpt:
On a tour of the comprehensive service center for the Jinyuan community in Guiyang, the capital of Southwest China’s Guizhou province, the last thing I ever expected our guide to say was, “This is our legal clinic.”
A red sign with the Chinese characters for “legal clinic “hung just above the door, and inside, behind a desk, sat a middle-aged man wearing a military green button-down shirt. As I peered inside, I noted the curious smile on his face, as if he were just as surprised to find a foreigner observing him from the hallway as I was to discover this clinic. Never before had I seen a lawyer within the walls of a community service center anywhere in the world.
“Pardon me, but could I ask you a few questions?” I said to him, as I stepped into the clinic with an outstretched hand and my fascination.
He introduced himself as Liu Yuanhe, the head of the clinic’s legal team and a retired soldier from the People’s Liberation Army. While his career as a lawyer dated back to 1996, when he passed exams to become certified in the profession, he had been involved in legal aid service in the community over the past year. Liu said the clinic, which had officially opened its doors in January, helped people free of charge with anything at all involving the law. While typical cases involved matters like contract disputes and recovering unpaid wages, he emphasized they handled any legal problem and would even file lawsuits, if needed, at no cost. In his view, the work he did at the clinic was part of a selfless dedication to give back to society.
Moreover, he stressed the importance of justice to people’s well-being. “What do people want? They want some form of happiness. What is the essence of happiness? I think it is a kind of social fairness and justice.”
I’m already halfway through a trip to Guiyang in Guizhou province and also Nanning in Guangxi province. The visit has already shown me some of the highlights of Guiyang, an emerging big data hub in China. And now I’m gearing up to explore everything from foreign trade to local culture in Nanning.
Since it’s a busy working trip, I’m taking a break from blogging. But don’t worry — I’ll be back next week with some photos offering a behind-the-scenes look at the experience. See you then!
The National Day of Action and Healing on March 26 was launched in the United States to galvanize individuals, businesses and organizations to take steps to tackle anti-Asian racism and hate incidents. As organizers have called for efforts to make streets and businesses safer for Asians, they’re also asking that business leaders work to address the long-standing problem of anti-Asian discrimination in areas such as the workplace.
I’m encouraged that people are also seizing this moment as an opportunity to shine a light on the pervasive problem of anti-Asian bias, which often acts insidiously through systems and institutions and doesn’t usually produce the kind of shocking video footage that commands more attention in the media.
The 2019 study Discrimination in the US: Experiences of Asian Americans published in Health Services Research found 37 percent of Asian adults said they had experienced racial discrimination. That number jumped to 60 percent for the overseas Chinese in a recent survey highlighted by the US-based World Journal in a March 26 article. Such discrimination may not necessarily inflict physical harm, yet can be devastating.
Imagine being prosecuted by the government for alleged espionage you never committed. Racial profiling under the guise of national security has long threatened the livelihoods of scores of Chinese scientists in the US. Most are familiar with Wen Ho Lee, who was later exonerated, but more recently many others have been wrongfully targeted-including Cao Guoqing, Li Shuyu, Sherry Chen and Xi Xiaoxing.
More often, though, anti-Asian workplace discrimination occurs in subtle ways. Consider the news in February 2021 that Google agreed to a settlement with the US Department of Labor, after an investigation exposed problems including “hiring rate differences “that impacted not only female but also Asian job seekers.
Meanwhile, Asian students can have their education and careers harmed at the hands of instructors and faculty, who may disguise racial animus behind pretextual explanations.
It was over a week after the tragic shooting in Atlanta that left eight dead, including six Asian women, and yet Georgia was still on my mind as my husband Jun and I prepared dinner.
“You remember our dream of doing a road trip around the US?” I mentioned to him while chopping veggies. “It’s hard to imagine doing that now.”
I felt a wave of anxiety as I recalled our cross-country drive in the US in the summer of 2016, which involved camping at small state parks scattered across the nation’s heartland, and even a night of sleeping in our car during a rainstorm. The idea of spending the night outside in a flimsy tent in a space where other people could see us — and, especially, my obviously Asian husband — suddenly appeared risky, in light of the rise in anti-Asian hate incidents.
I’d already had this concern long before the incident in Atlanta, having followed the reports from Stop AAPI Hate and news of the most extreme violence, including Asian elders pushed to the ground and even dying from related injuries. Atlanta only heightened my apprehension.
This doesn’t mean I won’t eventually travel back to the US to see family and friends. Eventually, once the pandemic is fully controlled and there aren’t the many other barriers that make travel impossible or impractical, I’ll make plans for a visit. But the idea of embarking on a pleasure trip for two — just my husband and me — doesn’t appeal as much now. I don’t know about you, but it’s hard to appreciate the majesty of, say, the Grand Canyon when you’re worried that your spouse might get assaulted because of his race and national origin.
…this need not necessarily be sentiments held only by mainland Chinese but Asians elsewhere, particularly those who are Chinese-looking. A Booking.com survey finds that nearly 70 percent of Asian travelers said friendliness of locals would factor into their decision-making process, with 84 percent saying “personal safety” would influence their choice of destination.
The report also said travelers ranked Asia as their most preferred overseas destination, followed by Europe and then North America.
I wonder, how many people in cross-cultural and interracial relationships here in Asia, like me, have also been rethinking the ways in which they might travel overseas with their Asian families in the West. How many more of us will put on hold those “dream travel” plans over safety concerns, opting for destinations within Asia or closer to home?
Recently, my family asked if I might return to the US sometime later this year, as the pandemic situation improves.
My heart sank a little at the mention of this, since I already knew my answer would be disappointing — that at least for now, I can’t make any plans to return home during the pandemic.
Obviously, it’s hard enough to make plans with the uncertainties of the pandemic itself — where a sudden surge in case numbers can quickly turn a country or region into a health disaster.
But there are also other issues that come into play — things family and friends might not even be aware of, which add to the challenges of overseas travel amid the pandemic.
Here are 3 other factors, besides health concerns, that make it difficult to leave China to visit family and friends abroad amid the pandemic:
The arrival of March inevitably turns my thoughts to this tea, as this month sees the first harvest of the spring longjing. The leaves, plucked off the bushes before the coming of Qingming Festival in April, are considered the most tender of the year, and command the highest prices. I’ve sampled it a handful of times, luxuriating in its delicately sweet fragrance and flavor.
Nearly two years ago, I traveled back to Hangzhou for a video shoot that included a visit to the restaurant Charen Cun, nestled within the city’s longjing tea fields. I walked through the terraces of jade-green bushes along with the owner of the restaurant, who had inherited the fields and tradition of tending and appreciating longjing tea from his own father. Hovering over one of the bushes, he pulled a small bunch of leaves off with a gentle tug and placed them in my hands. They were a light and exuberant green, a shade recalling the uplifting joy of warmer spring days and the return of more sunshine. I tucked into my pocket those leaves, which were the most precious souvenir of my trip, a real physical reminder that I had stepped among the fields of my most favorite tea.
This website uses cookies to improve your experience. We'll assume you're ok with this, but you can opt-out if you wish.AcceptRejectRead More
Privacy & Cookies Policy
Privacy Overview
This website uses cookies to improve your experience while you navigate through the website. Out of these cookies, the cookies that are categorized as necessary are stored on your browser as they are essential for the working of basic functionalities of the website. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. You also have the option to opt-out of these cookies. But opting out of some of these cookies may have an effect on your browsing experience.
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.