A flower that blooms straight from a bare branch, in the coldest days of winter, sounds like a dream. And yet, this reality has unfurled all around us in its late winter splendor here in Hangzhou.
Plum blossoms always cast a spell on me, no matter how many times I’ve witnessed their winter miracle. It’s not just the beauty of their blooms, which perk up the drab winter landscapes with their stunning colors, especially magenta and carnation pink. It’s also the way they perfume the air with their sweet, delicate fragrance that soothes your weary soul with the promise that, soon, warmer days will come.
In China, people talk of plum blossom spirit. If a flower can weather the winter cold, then surely we can endure hardship — and find ways to thrive.
At a time when we all long for winter to end, the plum blossom emerges as a much-needed seasonal friend.
These days, as I walk outside to enjoy the plum blossoms, I will remember that hope blooms, even in winter — and that some of the most beautiful things in life are willing to brave the cold.
Before Chinese New Year, neatly folded pairs of red clothing occupied a prominent position in my closet, and in my drawer lay a pendant in the shape of a pixiu, a mythical beast that confers protection and prosperity on its wearer. But, I had asked myself, was I ready for the coming Year of the Snake, my Chinese zodiac year? Would these auspicious items help shepherd me through this period in safety?
I grew up in Cleveland in the United States, where the Chinese zodiac was little more than a curiosity I encountered on place mats at Chinese restaurants while waiting for orders of spring rolls, fried rice and sweet-and-sour pork. But living in China has schooled me in the customs surrounding the Chinese zodiac, including warding off bad luck in one’s benmingnian, or Chinese zodiac year, by wearing red clothing or a special talisman.
Sparks fly when a young woman with a Ph.D. in literature has a chance encounter on the Beijing subway with a Beijing migrant who dreams of becoming an actor.
What reads like a romance novel blurb is actually reality for American Tammy Treichel, the author of the new memoir “Hutong Heartthrobs.”
Set primarily in one of Beijing’s iconic residences, the book charts the course of her unlikely romance as well as her beau’s rise from obscurity to becoming a stand-in for Jackie Chan. Anyone in a cross-cultural relationship, especially with someone Chinese, will relate to the many differences, cultural and otherwise, that emerge between the couple throughout the narrative. It also provides a fascinating inside look into breaking into the competitive world of acting in Beijing and what it takes to survive.
It’s my pleasure to introduce you to “Hutong Heartthrobs” through this interview with Tammy. Here’s Tammy’s bio from Goodreads:
Tammy (Tamara) Arehart Treichel is an American with a passion for two things: China and writing. After graduating with an award-winning PhD in English on Herman Melville’s Moby Dick, she worked as a freelancer for various China-related publications. Born in Washington DC, she found a second lease on life and true love in China, where she has lived for over a decade and is working as an English editor at a local news agency in Beijing. Tammy greatly enjoys exploring all things China with her Chinese man, a former security guard-turned-actor named Jackie. They live in an old hutong (alleyway) house in an historic part of Beijing together with three rescue cats and numerous house lizards.
You can buy “Hutong Heartthrobs” online — your purchases help support this blog!
What inspired you to write this book?
Writing is in my blood I suppose, I have been writing and creating characters since I was a child (short stories, mawkish poetry, plays, for fun). My mother is a science writer and we enjoy “talking shop.” I like to tell people that my mother focuses “on the human brain” in her books and articles, whereas I personally am more interested in the “complexities of the human heart.” I suppose we complement each other well!
I did some research and was unable to find directly competitive titles to what would eventually become my memoir, “Hutong Heartthrobs.” When I approached my publisher, Graham Earnshaw, he said he thought the idea of a book that encompasses a Chinese and “Western” point of view, namely that of my Chinese husband Jackie and myself, an American woman, in the framework of a love story could be of value to readers.
How did your husband feel about being spotlighted in your memoir?
Oh, he loves the spotlight! After all, he works in the film industry. So he wasn’t concerned about being one of the main focuses of my book. Of course, I ran everything by him first as best as I could and double-checked facts before submitting my manuscript. I conducted interviews with him about his life story for “Hutong Heartthrobs“; he was dictating to me at the computer from his notes while I typed down his answers in Chinese characters (we communicate in Chinese). I then translated and had a third party (Chinese native speaker who was highly proficient in English) ensure that my translations were correct.
As highlighted in the title of your book, you and your husband grow to love one another primarily while residing in a hutong. What did you enjoy writing about most regarding life in your hutong home?
I enjoyed writing about the ambience of our old, musty hutong house and all the quirks that came with it (electricity outages, house lizards, neighborhood cats wooing each other on the hutong house roof, the old poplar tree)…. it gave me an opportunity to give my story a bit of a poetic touch, and at times a comedic one when I wrote about what was going wrong again with the house. A lot of the drama involving the hutong house involves my reactions to its quirks; it seems at times to take on a life of its own (cf. Poe’s short story “The Fall of the House of Usher” where the house collapses…).
Throughout your memoir, you highlight some of the cultural differences that emerged in your relationship, in very relatable moments. Could you share with us one of your favorites?
I think in retrospect one of the funniest moments was when our night bus was “hijacked” on a Beijing highway by an elderly lady who was angry that she had missed her stop. The people involved (bus driver, security guard, my Chinese husband Jackie and myself) all reacted in different ways. Jackie reacted in a conflict-averse manner, which is typical for him, whereas I was more impatient and confrontational. He also said what he would have done to solve the problem if he had been the bus driver, and his answer pleasantly surprised me and opened up my eyes to different ways of solving the problems that life throws at us. It was, and is, refreshing to learn from him and his take on things. I wouldn’t necessarily say his is always “the Chinese point of view,” but the culture in which we are raised definitely informs our actions and reactions.
What do you hope readers come away with after reading your memoir?
I believe that Western readers will be able to learn more about life in China, both its complexities and rewards from an expat’s point of view, also about the joys and challenges of being in a cross-cultural relationship. For Chinese readers, they might be curious about how a “foreigner” regards their country and tackles life there. And of course, our love story might be a charming read for those who are romantics at heart, as I am. I initially believed that the majority of my readers would be women, but I was surprised at how many men have said they found “Hutong Heartthrobs” an entertaining read as well.
China Daily recently published my column titled Wonders of Wandering off Beaten Path in Zhejiang, detailing some of the delightful hikes Jun and I have discovered in the province. Here’s an excerpt:
On the summit of a mountain over 1,000 meters high in a Zhejiang nature reserve, I glimpsed a work of art on the horizon. Beyond the outstretched boughs of Huangshan pines, silhouettes of mountain upon mountain were painted across the sky in striking blues and grays. The scene belonged in a museum, yet it hung in the sky before us, challenging every notion I had of what a mountain should look like in nature.
How did we encounter such an extraordinary view on a trail so ordinary that it was largely empty, even on this holiday weekend? In the three-plus hours we spent hiking there that day, we saw only four other small groups of hikers. The trail wasn’t even marked on the maps; we wouldn’t have known it existed, had we not passed it during a drive in late January earlier this year. Yet, somehow, this forgotten place possessed a quiet magic of its own, revealed in resplendent moments that took us by surprise.
Head on over to China Daily to read the full piece. And if you like it, share it!
Ruth Silbermayr-Song, the author of the blog China Elevator Stories, was separated from her children in 2019. In 2020, all contact to her children was cut off by her ex-husband, as detailed in an interview on this blog.
Ruth asked me to share an update about her situation:
A few days ago, the court in Austria has declined my request for receiving sole custody of my children and has declined my request to see my children in their summer holidays. I have been allowed a call with my children two days a week, which is much less than the daily calls I have requested. (I have appealed the decision on January 23rd).
My children are not being protected from abuse, and in my opinion, the court’s decision is in violation of basic human rights, such as parents being allowed to parent their own children and being allowed to see their children.
Ruth has created a Change.org petition in German, which calls on signers to back the following text:
I support Ms. Ruth Silbermayr-Song, BA, in obtaining sole custody of her children, Emil and Nino Silbermayr-Song. I speak out against the protection of fathers who abuse their (ex-) wives and children mentally, emotionally, and in other ways, and endanger their children’s well-being. I support the victims (the mother and the children), not the perpetrator (the father).
The photograph that greeted me at the entrance to a special exhibition at the Cleveland Museum of Art had a startling familiarity.
The water bristled with the umbrella-like leaves of lotus plants, a grand gathering of bright green parasols under the summer sunlight. Behind them, the gentle slope of a long stone arch bridge balanced a white car and a handful of pedestrians. Willow trees bowed before the shoreline, while a mountain silhouette traced the horizon.
Excitement stirred within me as I realized I had gazed upon that lotus field, walked that bridge, wandered under those willows, and hiked those mountains. “Look, that’s the West Lake! That’s in Hangzhou, where I live!”
I lingered before the image, sharing my amazement with the family members who had accompanied me — my father, stepmother, uncles and aunt — and with a volunteer at the museum.
How did my hometown of Cleveland, Ohio, just happen to lead a special exhibition titled China’s Southern Paradise: Treasures from the Lower Yangtze River with a photograph from my adopted hometown in China?
Read the full piece online — and if you like it, share it!
Over four and a half years. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve been back to the US.
As I prepare to return to the US for a short visit, the staggering amount of time that has separated us looms before me.
I never thought I would be away for so long. Years ago in the US, I often heard stories from Chinese students, of how their visas — and the potential to be denied re-entry to the US during their studies — snuffed out any plans of heading back to China. I remember being shocked to hear that they hadn’t seen their family and friends back home in three or four years.
One year of absence, give or take a few months, was about all I could bear when I first came to China. And once, while working in Shanghai, the one and a half years I ended up waiting to see my family already tested me, and left me aching within.
But since then, life has schooled me in the many ways that the best laid plans — such as regular, yearly international travel to see family and friends back home — can be dashed. Maybe circumstances have rendered the price tag for an international flight far beyond your tight budget. Or a pandemic dashes any further hopes of flying back home.
Being grounded for four and a half years reminded me that international travel is a privilege, not a right.
Now that I will travel home to the US very soon, it feels more like an imaginary story, rather than reality. How do you make up for all that lost time in just a short couple of weeks? What can you say to someone you haven’t seen face-to-face in over four years?
The pure pink resilience of the lotus blooms dazzled us on our late summer walks this year in Hangzhou, including by the city’s renowned West Lake.
Generations of Chinese have admired the lotus as a symbol of purity, as it emerges from the mud underwater without stain. I admire the shades of pink — from light rose to a deep flamingo — in these delicate flowers, which shine even brighter under the intense late summer sunshine, and offer some aesthetic consolation for those brave enough to endure the heat and humidity to gaze upon their beauty.
As summer draws to a close, I’m sharing a few of my favorite photos from strolls beside Hangzhou’s West Lake.
This corner of the West Lake bristles with lotus plants and their blossoms, growing upright toward the brilliant sun beside a pavillion.Up close, the lotus blossom appears as delicate as a porcelain tea cup.I couldn’t believe how tall the lotus blossoms were — some almost rivaled my height!Nature painted an almost flawless landscape that afternoon at the West Lake.The lotus plants and blossoms blanketed entire corners of the lake, with such lovely scenes to savor for both Jun and myself.
What are your favorite flowers of the summer? Where do you go to enjoy them?
So with the advent of ChatGPT, I wondered if the widely acclaimed AI chatbot could offer new insights and perspectives into this question. And I was largely underwhelmed by the answer:
There are several factors that may contribute to the relatively low number of couples consisting of Chinese men and Western women:
Cultural Differences: Cultural differences between China and Western countries can make it difficult for couples from different backgrounds to understand each other’s values and ways of life. This can create communication barriers and make it challenging for the couple to form a strong connection.
Stereotypes and Prejudice: Stereotypes and prejudices about each other’s cultures can also create barriers for couples from different backgrounds. For example, some Western women may have negative stereotypes about Chinese men, which can make them less likely to consider dating or marrying someone from China.
Language Barriers: Language barriers can also be a factor in forming relationships between people from different countries. If one or both parties are not fluent in each other’s language, it can be difficult to communicate effectively and build a strong relationship.
Social and Family Pressure: Social and family pressure can also play a role in relationships between people from different cultures. In some cultures, there may be social or familial expectations that individuals should marry within their own cultural group, which can make it difficult for couples from different backgrounds to form relationships.
It’s important to note that while there may be fewer couples consisting of Chinese men and Western women compared to other combinations, there are still many successful and happy relationships between people from different cultural backgrounds.
Of the three answers, only one made sense to me: stereotypes and prejudice. As I wrote before:
“Years of pernicious stereotypes have branded Asian men as emasculated, weak, asexual, and even too small in a certain department—essentially, editing them out of the most eligible bachelor pool.”
And Chinese harbor their own set of stereotypes about Western women — as the seductress or a casual lover, who could never accept a Chinese way of life.
The other three reasons, however–cultural differences, language barriers, social and family pressure–felt a bit out of place, as if the chatbot had hastily pasted them in. After all, if these cultural differences, language barriers, and social and family pressure were truly a problem, why weren’t they hindering the number of Chinese women and Western men pairing up? I may concede that cultural differences and social/family pressure can differ between genders, but I doubt these were enough to sway the skewed coupling in reality.
And sure enough, when I asked ChatGPT why there were so many couples of Chinese women and Western men, the answer betrayed its shortcomings in understanding cross-cultural relationship dynamics:
There are several factors that may contribute to the relatively high number of couples consisting of Chinese women and Western men:
Cultural Differences: While cultural differences can create barriers for some couples, they can also be a factor that draws other couples together. Some Western men are attracted to Chinese women because of their unique cultural background and traditions, which can be seen as exotic and alluring.
Gender Imbalances: In China, there is a well-documented gender imbalance, with more men than women due to the one-child policy and cultural preference for male offspring. This can make it more difficult for Chinese men to find partners, while Western men may be seen as a more viable option for Chinese women.
Economic Factors: Some Chinese women may be attracted to Western men because they are perceived to have more economic stability and opportunities compared to Chinese men.
Language Ability: Western men who speak Chinese fluently may be more attractive to Chinese women because it can facilitate communication and understanding between the couple.
It’s important to note that while there may be many couples consisting of Chinese women and Western men, these factors do not apply to all couples and there are many successful and happy relationships between people from different cultural backgrounds.
Right, ChatGPT — so the “cultural differences” that tear some people apart will bring others together? This answer struck me as a veiled attempt to cite fetishization of Chinese women without actually using that term.
What do “gender imbalances” have to do with this? ChatGPT, in case you haven’t noticed, a similar phenomenon exists around the world — lots of Asian women and Western men, compared to fewer Asian men and Western women.
While I’m willing to concede the third reason (economic) might have some traction, the fourth, language ability, seemed laughable. How many times have I seen Western men, who could utter little else beyond “Ni Hao” and “Xie Xie”, with a Chinese woman at their side? Besides, plenty of Western women have mastered Chinese, which hasn’t necessarily translated into more couples.
ChatGPT offered little insight into the dynamics in Chinese/Western relationships, but it did teach me something: AI still apparently has much to learn about race, ethnicity and culture, and how it plays out in relationships and marriage.
For years, I’ve celebrated International Workers Day, May 1, here in China, an annual public holiday. But it was only recently that I learned the curious US connection — that in fact, the US labor movement prompted this holiday.
If you’re an American like me, accustomed to having Labor Day fall in September, this might come as a surprise to you too. Growing up, nobody educated me about the US history associated with the origin of International Workers Day.
Those of you who have studied the US labor movement probably recognize the 1886 Haymarket Affair, when a bomb exploded just as the police were breaking up a labor protest rally ignited by a nationwide push, which began May 1, for the eight-hour workday. Years later, at an international labor conference in Paris, an American delegate proposed setting aside May 1 as a day to remember this injustice.
For years, half of the American Labor movement observed May 1 as Labor Day, while the other half observed the first Monday in September. After the Russian Revolution the May 1 date was mistakenly associated with communism, and in a protest against Soviet policy, May 1 was first proclaimed Law Day in the 1960’s.
It wasn’t until I came to China that I discovered “May Day” and “International Workers Day”. It remains among the most important holidays of the year, and many here use the opportunity to travel, gather with friends and enjoy the spring weather by going outdoors.
What do you think about this? Are you surprised by the US connection to International Workers Day? Do you think Americans are missing out by celebrating Labor Day in September, instead of May, like here in China?
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