Building cultural bridges with love. 洋媳妇谈中国
Advice and stories about daily life in China, from one Western woman with a Chinese husband from China’s countryside.
I had never stood next to John before the day we rode the “green skinned” train to Yiwu. I asked John out for lunch before we rode the train, and, as he stood up from his chair, there he was — more than two inches below me, and many pounds lighter.
I always believed I wasn’t superficial, until now — I felt disappointed, just because John was shorter. Continue reading “Chapter 3: Shortcomings”
Caroline’s mother doesn’t believe me when I say I’m full. She is a typical Chinese hostess, deciding that I am being polite, even as I’m being truthful every time I tell her chibaole — I’ve eaten enough. “Eat, eat, eat” is her mantra as we sit around the dinner table at this home in Yiwu, feasting on eggplant, fried pumpkin, and — for Caroline and John — chicken feet and shrimp.
I think Caroline takes after her mother, because she doesn’t believe me either — about love, that is. You need to be careful who you date. Continue reading “Chapter 2: My Chinese Matchmaker, Caroline”
Our “green-skinned” train to Yiwu had no air conditioning on this sultry evening of July 13, 2002. My two translator friends, Caroline and John, were with me on the hard-seat section of this train. The three of us sat on the same seat — with upholstery in the same dark green color as the train — across from two soldiers in the People’s Liberation Army. I borrowed Caroline’s plastic fan from time to time, and sometimes caught a breeze through the open window. But mostly, the humidity loitered painfully around us, and we hoped, in vain, that it would go away.
There is a word for this weather in Chinese: 闷热 or menre, meaning muggy. The first character, men, is made up of the character for heart (心) contained within the character for door (门) — as if to say your heart is shut away or contained.
My heart had been shut away before this trip. I had just broken up with Frank, my first Chinese boyfriend in Hangzhou, my coworker at the Chinese Internet company where I worked. Continue reading “Chapter 1: My Heart is Shut Away, My Chinese Boyfriend is Gone”
I wrote this piece five years ago, but it still rings true. If you miss the holiday atmosphere in January, after Christmas and New Year’s Eve, then you should be in China.
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It was early afternoon, and the little Luwan Food Store in Shanghai was belching out patrons left and right. We felt the squeeze as we waited in line for the sesame seed/walnut powder. I was taken by one man who bought two large containers, and slipped them into a black valise that seemed more fitting for someone in the secret service. The people behind John and I impatiently nudged us forward.
The ladies behind the counter just beyond that — the one for Chinese tonics and herbs, everything from ginseng to swallow saliva — bustled back and forth, handing the remedies over to customers in the smart, glossy red packages. Even the tea department brewed with energy. Several men hunched over a counter displaying an assortment of dried and cured leaves in a spectrum of greens, browns and black.
When John and I returned to Huaihai Road — the “Fifth Avenue” of Shanghai — we plunged into a odd gallery of late-season holiday decorations in the store windows. Tinsel, Christmas trees and images of Santa Claus all contradicted the reality that Christmas was already over. Even department stores broadcasted Christmas carols in the background.
This is January in China’s big cities: still frosted with holiday flavor, and still a consumer frenzy that would rival the Christmas shopping season. Continue reading “January in China: The Holidays aren’t over yet”
This is another classic post from four years ago, when John and I hit some turbulence in our relationship. Stress, personal issues and cultural differences all exploded together just as the weather began to change. Maybe you’ve been there too?
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In December, a sudden change of weather can really throw you off guard. One day it’s 16 degrees C, and the next day the temperature dives down to 6 degrees C — or less. Of course, the weatherman has a scientific explanation — it’s because of that cold front from the North or something else. Explanation or not, you’re left with the chilling reality that winter is here. And, you wonder when exactly did Autumn make its surreptitious departure?
Like the weather, relationships have their own rapid fluctuations — as I have discovered in this month. Continue reading “Weathering Cross-Cultural Love in China”
Well, while everyone is getting their lists together and checking them twice for Christmas, I’m doing the same — in terms of  improving Speaking of China.
Thanks to the overwhelming support I’ve had so far, I’ve decided to expand this site with an ambitious plan, starting January 4, 2010. Here’s what you’ll be seeing: Continue reading “Ask the Yangxifu, Travel guides, More posts…Coming up in 2010”
Five days after my wedding ceremony in China, my Chinese mother-in-law sat down with me to do “the talk.” No, it wasn’t that kind of talk. It was about…well…children.
“You have to have a child, and earlier is better,” she said, flashing me a nervous smile. Continue reading ““Zao sheng guizi”: the pressure of having babies in a Chinese family”
I am so far behind on my Christmas preparations, so I’m running another classic entry week, from the original Speaking of China. This is also pretty dark (am I dreaming of a “dark Christmas”?). After living with John for more than two years in Shanghai — and marrying him — I experienced the difficulties of an average Chinese through him. I was shocked. And so, I wrote this article. Enjoy!
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They say the grass is greener on the other side. Or sometimes, on the other side of “the pond.” An odd repulsion to the familiar moves us to board planes for hours and battle fierce jetlag, all to experience a life different from our upbringing.
For some of us, it’s more than an occasional “flirt” with another country. We’re not interested in a one-night or one-week stand — we want the whole relationship. We want to dig deeper. We want to get to know what’s really under those covers.
That’s why I returned to China in 2001 — to get cozy with this ancient land across the Pacific. I learned from my many Chinese friends. I became fluent in Chinese.
Most of all, I fell in love and married a Chinese man — which made me closer to this country than I ever imagined. But with closeness comes a new understanding — one that made the greenery on this side of the pond start to wilt. Continue reading “The Grass is Greener?: when the romance ends, and China’s reality begins”
I just did a guest post on ExpatHarem about expat identity, through my own identity in China, Ailin:
Ailin sings a fierce karaoke song, loves pink pastel T-shirts, paints squiggly green snakes, and isn’t afraid to argue with a bus driver. I know her well — because Ailin is me, when I’m in China.
I encourage you to visit ExpatHarem to read the full post, and others like it, and comment!
If you’ve never visited before, the site supports globally minded women writers — especially those who have lived in Asia. Thanks to Anastasia Ashman’s editorial direction, it’s like reading a fine magazine.
I wrote this piece about five years ago. It’s a dark piece, and came out of a dark time in my life — when I experienced a lot of renovation around the place I lived in Shanghai, and was grappling with what to do with my future. If you’re having some dark days (from weather, life, or even holiday blues), this is for you.
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Across the street from my gym, there is a clothing store for infants and toddlers. I know it well because I always park my generic, cement-gray bicycle right next to its display window, lit up with the tender image of some darling baobei sporting the latest in baby fashion – an odd foil to my ugly wheels.
I began to notice how the windows became plastered by screaming yellow signs promising deep bargains. Fifty, 60, 70, 80 percent off! Like lichen covering a rock, they even obscured the front showroom and finally that trusty display window. Inside the store, free-for-all bins sloppily loaded with clothes had replaced the racks and models.
There they were – all of the telltale signs of store renovation.
And sure enough, for weeks afterwards I parked right next to a work-in-progress. I saw the team of workers, night after night, navigate the noxious fumes and the symphony of drills, saws and chains in what I feared might foretell the end of retailing of infant and toddler clothes on Danshui Road as I knew it.
One night, I saw those workers in the middle of the half-finished store. The décor captured that feeling of newborn innocence. Whitewashed walls, floors and shelves; a pastel painting of imaginary elephants with a poem about the joys of being a child. The men stood there smoking cigarettes, as though they were in a bar, and sullied the floor with ashes and spit. Well, I suppose if babies are born with original sin, then stores for babies are no different.
I never really saw renovation like this, in all of its glory, mystery and (in some cases) malevolence, until I came to China. Continue reading “China, the Renovation Nation”