Kind of yellowish I’d say

It’s when you have visitors you get to go out and see and experience things; a chance to get away from the mundane days in the suburb when everything is the same, day after day.

When my dad came to visit to help us unpack and get organized we suddenly had nothing to unpack or organize since our container, hmmm how shall I put it, got lost on the way. So with all this free time and a visitor who had never been to China before, what to do? Well, I planned his visit as a 30/30/40 combination; 30% shopping, 30% sightseeing and 40% eating and drinking. We started off with the Swedish Chamber of Commerce’s Christmas party followed by champagne brunch at the Westin. Monday was dedicated to shopping and Tuesday to sightseeing.

What do you have to see if you visit Beijing? Well, Tiananmen Square and Forbidden City of course. We headed to the big square, the center of this gigantic city, a place filled history – recent and ancient. Even though I’d been there on numerous occasions I had never been to see Chairman Mao where he lies in his mausoleum, embalmed, for all his followers and curious lao wais to come see. “I’ve seen the great Mao six times!” Mr. Li proudly told us on our way over. “I love Chairman Mao” he continued” “ but it’s not the real one you will see, it’s made of wax, the real Chairman Mao is kept in the “xia” (under, I guess he meant basement)”.  “Chairman Mao’s daughter was once in my car, she was very old.” he finishes before dropping us off.

With this information under our belt we head out onto the square and follow the crowd around the big square shaped building that is the mausoleum. We had parked on the wrong side and have to walk all around to get to the entrance where we stand like two big question marks. Where to go now? A guard spotted us and begins to ask, rapidly: “How many cameras? Do you have passport? Come this way, this way!”, he says as he almost pushes us while accompanying us out of the square, across the road to another building where we are to deposit of everything except our money and passports. The guard ushers us on while continuing to hurry us on: “kwai, kwai, kwai!” (Fast, fast, fast!). He takes us behind, the counter, inside the door to the inner sanctum of deposited handbags, cameras, luggage, plastic bags (the things people lug around) and other random items. Some people visiting Tiananmen Square looks like thy just stepped off the train (and they probably did) and all of their belongings are stored here while they pay their visit to the great Chairman Mao.

Things deposited and we hurry back, through the security and pass the queue lining up for the next security check. Suddenly he stops: “wu shi kuai (50RMB)”, he almost whispers and signals that this should be handled in secret. I make the mistake by asking if that is for one of two and then of course 50 is for one and we have to pay him 100RMB ($15 or so) and he pockets the money and pushes us through so we don’t have to show passports or give money to anyone else. Then he vanishes out of the blue and we are on our own. Though I’m positive proper identification is necessary, it might be free to visit the great leader but surely, this guards efforts were worth the 100RMB he pocketed. He can buy himself lunch all week and still afford to buy his friends a beer at the end of the day. Or pay his electricity AND phone bill for the month.

Even though we jumped the line, we still have some way to go, including another security check involving post September 11 like airport security measures. We are scanned, patted down, our things (what we have left) go through an x-ray and finally we are cleared. Right outside the majestic building there are yellow flowers for sale, a mountain of yellow carnations for 3 kuai each. We walk up the stairs, take off our hats as we enter and keep silent as the sign tells us to do, and there in front of us, people leave their flowers, worshipping a statue of the great Mao. The same flowers will most likely be carried back and sold all over again. A nice business I’d say, very profitable.

There is no room to veer, we simply follow the crowd through a corridor, into another and then the line divides in two and we are ushered into the center of the building were the Great Mao lies (or his wax copy, shhhh) for everyone to see. It all takes less than 30 seconds. He looks a bit pasty, kind of yellowish and with weird red eyes that almost shine like flashlights or laser beams. The glass box is lit up, of course, which may cause the yellowishness.

And that’s it. We’re done. We’ve done our duty, go back to collect our things, stroll a while around Tiananmen Square, trying to avoid hat, postcard, scarf and photographers and make our way over to the Forbidden City to absorb a completely different era of Chinese history.

Never-ending story

  

Will this ever end? Just when we had all the house problems under control; back they came, with a vengeance.

Let’s take it room by room shall we?

Master bathroom - major issues. After the geyser issue on Halloween weekend we haven’t dared use the bath tub (see previous post “Butt naked”).As of now, when we use the shower, the toilet is making a blubb, blubb, blubb sound and water is coming up. The toilet doesn’t flush and the shower floods and both sinks are clogged. On one of the landlady’s representatives visits (and there has been many) she explained to me (while chuckling; almost laughing) that the shower, the massive bath and the two sinks share one pipe leading to the toilet (!) and from there to the drain. And the pipes are really small, she says while continuing to smile and showing me exactly how small with her hands. Now, this lady travels by bus from the city, most likely for at least two (2!) hours to stand in my bathroom and snicker about the appalling plumbing in the house that she is responsible for.  

The children’s bathroom – working surprisingly well…except for the sinks, again. What a surprise. The water runs so slowly the kids can brush their teeth, go to school, and come back again before all the water is gone.

And the kitchen - ahh, the kitchen. Our house has the smallest kitchen we’ve ever had; it is even smaller than the Annecy kitchen which was tiny. I’ve bought two new cabinets for our dishes only as there is almost no cabinet space at all. And what there is; is either very high up or in the corner, impossible to reach and will be used for items not very often used. The” beautiful” laminate on the cabinet to the right of the oven (which is fitted with a strange wire structure to be used for …I have no fucking idea...) has started to peel. Most probably the glue used (on a kitchen cabinet next to an oven) isn’t heat proof.

The pipes (again the pipes) are teeny tiny and clog up. What was fixed when we had first moved in (involving some kind of drilling wire construction when the kitchen kept flooding every day) has now returned and while the water has been running slowly down the drain; now it doesn’t run at all. And what happens then? Somehow it ends up on the floor, under the “beautiful” bar coming out from…somewhere. Seriously, I don’t know. Under the sink it’s dry and the dishwasher doesn’t leak so I have no idea! But yet, somehow, brownish tinted water with coffee specks smelling of the bad wine I poured out this morning seeped out making Xiu (who was over cleaning the house at the moment) simply shake her head. “Bu hao”, she simply exclaimed, no good house.

While the management workers were here I simply left them with Xiu. She just can make them work harder than I can. They asked me for a step ladder and she fired off in vicious Mandarin: “She doesn’t have any furniture, do you really think she would have a ladder?”  I took Amanda with me and went to Stacy for coffee and the high-end Nestle chocolate she got for Christmas from Paul’s office.

“I’m amazed” she said, “I’m amazed that you are neither hooked on drugs nor a raging alcoholic by now, considering all that you’ve been through”. What can I say? There’s not a question of giving up. It’s like having a baby. You cannot not get up in the middle of the night to feed it, change it, and make sure that it is still breathing. You just have to get through it. And once you are over the hard part, the baby years, it will all be good. Or so I hope.

Ulf has been reading my posts and complained that I’m complaining too much. “People will think we are miserable!” Miserable we are not, I like it here, but as I told him that in this house there are not many things going right, right now, and a lot of complaining is justified he simply said: “Well, that is true.”

Now let’s just see if we will get our container next week when we have a semi-promise of delivery. Who is to know that they pulled the right one from that warehouse in Mesa where it was stored for two months?

Ouch two.

My husband looks like he has some kind of weird tropical disease, or chicken pox on steroids on his lower back only.

After my success with Dr. Lan and after having heard Ulf complain about his back pain (that damn bed) I one morning forced him (read me for him) to make an appointment. Men, you know, they complain and complain and complain again but seems to have a problem doing something about it. They are busy or it’s inconvenient or whatever. I stood my ground and he went and returned home later completely convinced and very impressed.

First session, acupressure massage, and already he felt better but still had to return for another treatment. As mentioned before, Dr. Lan treats you as he see fit, meaning you have absolutely no idea of what is going to happen to you. I got the needles on my first session and Ulf got the cups on his second.

Cupping treatment, or fire cupping treatment as it is also called, is an ancient form of alternative medicine in which a local suction is created on the skin; practitioners believe this mobilizes blood flow in order to promote healing. Suction is created using heat (fire) or mechanical devices (hand or electrical pumps). It is known in local languages as baguan/baguar, badkesh, banki, bahnkes, bekam, buhang, bentusa, kyukaku, gak hoi, Hijamah, kavaa (ކަވާ), singhi among others (Thank you Wikipedia).

Basically, the air inside the cup is heated and the rim is applied to the skin, forming an airtight seal. As the air inside the cup cools, it contracts, forming a partial vacuum and enabling the cup to suck the skin, pulling in soft tissue, and drawing blood to that area.

There is no scientific evidence that it can cure cancer or any other disease but increase blood flow to an area, sure! It sounds pretty freaky and the end result, big red circular bruises, is not pretty but it seems to work! It’s either Dr. Lan’s treatment or the fact that Ulf went for a business trip and got to sleep in a real bed for the first time in six weeks but the complaining has stopped. About the back at least.

Ouch!

I am a firm believer in traditional Chinese medicine. Sadly, my insurance company is not but luckily in China (where Chinese medicine is simply called medicine) treatments are very affordable.

I broke my back a few weeks ago. A combination of a rock hard bed, neglect and ignorance and most probably the cold weather and frustration was the cause, I believe. Suddenly, one Sunday afternoon I was in severe pain and by Monday morning I couldn’t move.

After having vaguely asked around for a chiropractor for weeks I was now in desperate need of one and called the hospital which actually could accommodate me and gave me an appointment a few hours later; enough time to get dressed and beat the traffic to get to BJU. A couple of neck x-rays and some spine manipulation involving a drilling-like machine on my neck, an appointment for another visit and 3000 RMB less in my bank account later I was released with the news that the problem lies in my neck and with proper care and exercise my problems could go away forever. Boy, have I heard that before!

But! Through the grapevine I’d heard of the amazing Dr. Lan. You go to see him and he will choose how to treat you, depending on your injury or problem. It can be massage, acupuncture or even cupping.

At my first session the soft spoken Dr. Lan greeted me as I was laying down on the bed and began with gently massaging my stomach and later moving his hands, pressing hard, up and down my body; all the while grunting slightly when he reached an area that apparently was in need of treatment. He later explained that today he was to give me acupuncture and massage, when the treatment was over we would talk. Ok, no problem. Some needles in my lower right scull and the painful area in my back, some excruciating massage in my right calf and where the needles had been placed in the skull later and Dr. Lan steps into the room, places his hands firmly around my head and begins to squeeze.  He presses so hard on my face and skull that I begin to wonder how much pressure a head really can take. During this cranio sacral therapy when he is holding my head so hard, pressing my cheekbones down he were humming at first, later singing to me and my squeezed head. I don’t know if it was to cause vibrations or just to make him and maybe me feel more relaxed.

As it turns out, he later explained to me, my body is imbalanced, but with the right treatment and many visits I will never experience back pain again! Worth a try I’d say. And sure worth $20 a pop.

And at my next session, one week later, the sensitivity had moved to another area; my hips as the therapist so delicately explained. I might be blunt, but after this acupressure massage session I walked around with a sore ass for days afterwards.

O fuck it part two

I was so excited about my baking the other day. Finally some Christmas preparation that doesn’t involve decorations held captive aboard a ship somewhere on the South China Sea. Fool proof. Cannot go wrong.

So I’d bought the saffron, the flour, the yeast and all other ingredients and was getting the dough ready in time for the kids to help me actually bake when they got home from school.

Hmm…something is not right here, I thought to myself, still calm at this stage. The saffron though it smelled right (though faint) was not yellow enough. But, since I had bought it at a market where the embassy chefs shop I stupidly thought they would not try to cheat you. I mean, how stupid are you to try to do that? You will lose business and most importantly your reputation and people will go shop at the next stall where they sell exactly the same things as you do.

So I proceeded mixing everything and left it to rise.

45 minutes later, a pasty grey/white rock hard lump waited for me, completely without the Christmassy saffron smell that I expected. I tried to roll it out, making the infinity eight shapes but to no avail. I tried to salvage it, adding cinnamon and sugar, making it into cinnamon buns but out of the oven came tiny, greyish, disgustingly disappointing not worthy to be called baked goods.

At this stage when I was seriously pissed off my mother Skype me and caught me in the action.

“Oh, what’s wrong?” she almost chuckles while I curse away and show her the horrible result of my labor.

What to say? I’ve felt like cursing ever since (and I do). It turns out the flour was not the right kind of flour though I never figured out which kind of flour it actually was , the yeast (though brand new) was dead and despite trying to save these scentless, greyish disgusting lumps of produits de boulangerie, in the end; I had to throw them all away.

Thank God for wine.