life in China | Speaking of China

Chapter 10: Did I Ask John to Move In?

There it was, a tiny blue duffel bag on the floor of the guest room. I found it Tuesday evening, after returning home from work.

It was John’s suitcase, of course. In a way, it was natural he would bring his things here. We hadn’t spent a day apart since that Friday, my birthday, when we first kissed. My apartment — with two bedrooms, a full bathroom and kitchen, dining room, TV and A/C — was far nicer than the cramped, sparse room in the peasant house that John shared with his friend. And, I had given John the keys — wasn’t that an open invitation?

Still, I couldn’t help wondering how he came to the conclusion — moving in — when we’d never really agreed on it.Â Continue reading “Chapter 10: Did I Ask John to Move In?”

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Chapter 9: Of Birthday Stares and Undeniable Love for John

“Everyone in this entire teahouse is staring at you,” giggled my Chinese tutor Mandy, as she clutched my arm on the way to the restroom.

We were at the Good Moon, a teahouse near Hangzhou University, celebrating my birthday with friends. As I scanned the people we passed in the teahouse, I saw Mandy was right. And, later, my friend Joshua would say the same. “You commanded the casual glances of almost everyone in the teahouse.”

I wore a tailored burgundy qipao, glittering with golden plum blossoms, my hair folded upon my head like a wreath of curls, and my face perfectly made up with the help of Swallow, one of the translators in our company.

But it wasn’t just my hair or clothes or makeup. There was something else about me — a certain intangible radiance. The radiance of someone in love.

If the casual onlookers could read love in my face, then what would Frank think when he saw me? Continue reading “Chapter 9: Of Birthday Stares and Undeniable Love for John”

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Chapter 8: John is My Chinese Boyfriend

The West Lake, framed by a glittering night sky and the willow tendrils hanging over our bench, could probably turn any young couple into lovers on such an evening. Especially this Western woman and Chinese man sitting beside its taciturn waters, watching the bats dip and sway to catch mosquitoes to the tune of the humming cicadas in the trees and bushes.

The shroud of night is like a blanket around us, giving us warmth and protection to take the next step, as we sit on a bench along the Su Causeway. We still live in a China where our presence together — as lovers — is a spectacle. But in the forgiving crepuscular light, no one can see that I am a Western woman and he is a Chinese man. For once, we are just another young couple, inexorably inching towards love.

But that does not pacify my mind or heart. I’m not sure anything could on this night, a night that has built up with fervor from the first friendly flirtations John and I had during our trip to Yiwu. A night that has turned me, a young woman who has loved before, into a high school girl on her first date all over again, dressed in a long black flowery skirt and lavender shirt, with a row of tiny clips across my head like a tiara. Continue reading “Chapter 8: John is My Chinese Boyfriend”

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Ask the Yangxifu: How Chinese men can meet foreign women in China

Aiden asks:

I am a Chinese guy who is going to graduate next June. I am majoring in English simply because I want to know more about this world. You mentioned a lot about the cross-culture relationship which is something I desired for years. I always wanna a life different from the ones that most people have in China. I know it is gonna be tough, but I have faith. No difficulty no fun. Life itself is that way. Anyway, it is rather hard for a Chinese mainlander to seek the chance of meeting any International women especially those who want to marry chinese guys. If you have any good channels or tips, why not tell us? Continue reading “Ask the Yangxifu: How Chinese men can meet foreign women in China”

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Chapter 7: Of Lovely Bouquets and China Birthday Programs

It’s not every day I walk out of work with three heaping bouquets — two of roses, and one of carnations. But this day, where I feel as if on the brink of living out a girlhood princess dream, is not not any day. It is Friday, July 26, 2002 — my birthday, and the day after John’s last day of work.

I could never get used to how people in China look so curiously at me, as a foreigner. I was always a shy girl growing up, nervous about public speaking, worried about a public mistake that would be the talk of the school. It’s not any easier with two bouquets of flowers cradled between my arms. Everyone in the office seems to have stopped their work to get a glance at me, craning their necks from even the farthest corners, as if I am a visiting Miss America. While I flush with embarrassment, I find it hard to admit the truth — that, as anxious as I am before my coworkers, I revel in the attention on my birthday. Sometimes, even shy girls like a little attention.

But I am not as interested in their attention as John’s. Over the week, I have drifted closer to John, and he in turn has left me spellbound with his attention. Continue reading “Chapter 7: Of Lovely Bouquets and China Birthday Programs”

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Travel China with the Yangxifu: the Kaifeng Night Market

Travel China with the Yangxifu takes you to the Kaifeng Night Market. Here, I’m trying fried bean-starch, or chao liangpi.

Foreign women are not available at the Kaifeng Night Market — even if there’s a demand.

“Wow, you have a foreign girl — you’re really sharp!” The almond tea vendors, wearing white coats and kufi — the traditional Muslim caps for men — reveled in the fact that my Chinese husband, John, had a foreign wife. But their revelry was more than just a casual curiosity.

“I’d like a foreign wife,” one of the vendors declared in a rough Henan accent. “How do you get one?”

You don’t get one at the Kaifeng Night Market.

But you will find so much more, from fantastic xiaochi (小吃), which means

snacks), to quirky people (including the aforementioned foreign-babe obsessed vendors) and a uniquely boisterous atmosphere. The Kaifeng Night Market is a living relic, a reminder of the forte volume and flavorful delicacies of night markets that once blanketed the country, but are now disappearing because of city beautification or cleanup projects. (Interestingly, my friend Frank G, who works as a judge in Kaifeng, said that the city cannot shut the market down, because they’re afraid the sellers would protest.) But, most of all, it is relaxing, fun and leaves you with none of the touristy aftertaste associated with China’s major attractions.

Continue reading “Travel China with the Yangxifu: the Kaifeng Night Market”

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Chapter 6: I’ll be watching you in China

There stood John, my Chinese coworker, in front of our office building, just as he promised moments ago. “I’ll be watching you in the bus.”

Would he really still be there after I boarded the bus downtown, the bus that took me to the gym where I exercised many evenings? It was a thoughtful sentiment, but one I’d never heard before. Was this just another joke, the same jokes I’d heard before when sitting with the translators? I turned the corner before the intersection, and walked north a few meters to the bus station, wondering who I would see before our office building.

But there he was, motionless, and awaiting my safe passage, as if I had just boarded the slow boat for North America. It was as though John had all of the time in the world, as long as it was for me. The John I came to know was not just any Chinese man.

John didn’t just stand up for me — he stood up for his village, as he told me one afternoon. Continue reading “Chapter 6: I’ll be watching you in China”

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Chapter 5: Love is Impractical

Frank, my ex-Chinese boyfriend, may never love again, the way we loved. This is what I learn when he and I have dinner one evening in early July, 2002.

Frank and I had began to talk once again in the first week of July, after he sent me a series of text messages in Chinese demystifying some of his feelings:

“I regret what happened between us.”

“I was unfit for relationships.”

“This was a failure of mine.”

Frank’s words released me from the emotional purgatory I suffered in after our breakup — a breakup I had to shoulder silently and painfully each day, because my desk sat next to Frank’s. Soon, we became friendly again, every warm smile a relieving reminder that we were moving towards a friendship.

One night, I was moved to send him a text message in Chinese: “I am so glad to see your smile again.”

“I sincerely appreciate your understanding,” he wrote back. “You are my best friend.” I clutched my chest again because his words brought me back to our courtship. Did Frank really break my heart? I began to wonder if our parting was a mistake.

But now I know better, after that dinner. Continue reading “Chapter 5: Love is Impractical”

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Ask the Yangxifu: Sensitive China issues, arguments and your Chinese husband

Ellen asks:

My husband and I had a little argument yesterday regarding the execution of a British citizen in China, you are probably aware of the case. We often have complete opposite opinions on political issues and China’s attitude towards human rights, democracy, and so on… I tend to avoid these subjects because I know they are very sensitive to him and no matter what he will always defend his country. He can be very stubborn, and very annoyed by the fact that the West will only listen to Chinese people when they criticize their country (his words, not mine).

I was wondering: how do these sensitive issues (Tibet, Urumqi, China’s “great firewall”, freedom of speech, human rights and so on and on…) affect your husband? Do you often have discussions about it? Or do you -like me- tend to avoid them (also on this blog maybe?)? And if you have different views, do they influence your communication? Continue reading “Ask the Yangxifu: Sensitive China issues, arguments and your Chinese husband”

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Chapter 4: The Embarrassment of Love in China

“That’s too nauseating!” Caroline reproached me the morning after spending the night at her house in Yiwu — for a rather nauseating gesture towards John.

Since I’d overslept that morning, I rushed out the door without putting on sunscreen, and had to do it in front of Caroline and John. Just as I massaged the lotion into my face and arms, John spoke up. “Could you give me some?” I don’t know why, but instead of handing him the container, I applied it directly to his face. That’s when Caroline groans — at this mere insinuation of affection.

The last time I heard anything like “that’s nauseating” about my love life was in high school. But I’m not surprised by Caroline. When I taught freshman college students in Henan Province, girls and boys sat on different sides of the room, and never spoke publicly with the opposite sex, afraid of the mere perception — and, in some cases, stigma — of romance. Their high schools and parents prohibited dating. I’m sure Caroline’s and John’s schools and parents did the same. Yet, Caroline and John are in their early twenties, and, to them, love is still an embarrassing, strange thing. They make me feel embarrassed all over again, as if I am 12 and afraid to hold hands in the school hallway with my so-called boyfriend.

Still, while I flirt fearlessly, I fear the words Caroline spoke to me freely, a week after we return from Yiwu: I think he would make a great husband.

I’ve only begun to know John, and now Caroline wants me to think about him in marital terms. Now I’m the one embarrassed, sitting on the opposite side of the classroom, and afraid to make a move.

But putting lotion on John’s face, and getting ridiculed by Caroline? I think, secretly, I love it. Now, that’s too nauseating.

Have you experienced the embarrassment of love in China? Did your friends laugh at you when you flirted with someone, or held hands, or even tried to kiss?

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Memoirs of a Yangxifu in China is the story of love, cultural understanding and eventual marriage between one American woman from the city and one Chinese man from the countryside. To read the full series to date, visit the Memoirs of a Yangxifu archives.

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