Visit to Qutang

To my more faithful readers, no, there's no excuse for the two week delay in posting-but this post is long, if that's any concession.

Due to the swine flu vacation, the Chinese National Day vacation was shortened from eight days off school to just two. This put a wrench in any plans to make a trip of sizable distance. But, since it was the 60th Anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic, and because the break coincided with mid-autumn festival, I decided to keep it traditional. So, I accepted my good friend Qin Chen’s invitation to go back home with her. Danthemanstan also accepted the invitation; so we would both accompany Qin Chen back to her hometown of Qutang, near Hai’an, in the Nantong prefecture in southeastern Jiangsu province.

There are two major holidays in China. Chinese New Year (Spring Festival) is usually in late January or February and is about two weeks. National Day is October 1st and the holiday lasts one week. These three weeks are beyond crazy for travel. You can look back at my blog to read about the experience Dave and I had last year. This year Qin Chen had bought tickets ahead of time. Danthemanstan, Sarah, Sean, and I got up early and headed to the bus station on Thursday morning (Sean and Sarah were going to visit Zhao Min, another friend). Knowing the imminent crowd, I was keen on getting to the bus station early. Quite surprisingly, Qin Chen and Zhao Min didn’t share this urgency. Apparently they had never traveled on the actual holiday before and didn’t expect the crowds (see picture to understand what I mean by crowds). I don’t know how they have both lived here their whole lives and not understood the travel craziness on those days, but I don’t know lots of things. Either way, we made it into the bus station, pushing and shoving as best we could. At one point, I actually felt like I was floating as the pushing carried me off the ground. Some nasty pickpocket’s day was made as Danthemanstan had his wallet stolen the scrum.

When we got to Qutang, we went to Qin Chen’s grandparent’s house, as it was a holiday and her parents and aunt were there for the day. Danthemanstan and I were really excited about the National Day parade. In China, multiples of ten for anniversaries, birthdays, etc. are a big deal, so there was a full military parade in Beijing, through Tian’anmen square. We were interested because military parades aren’t that common in today’s world and because I am very intrigued by the Chinese patriotism/nationalism. Qin Chen wasn’t really interested at all, her grandpa showed some interest, and her grandmother was busy making us a feast. I am sure her family was intrigued by our intrigue in their national parade. We, of course had a delicious lunch, as the Qin family stayed true to the Chinese custom of offering guests copious food and drink.

After lunch, we headed to one of the local parks in Hai’an with Qin Chen’s grandfather. As a typical Chinese retiree, he goes to the park almost every day to play Chinese chess. Meanwhile her grandmother shops, cleans the house, and hits up the local mahjong hall. The park was pretty, and very similar to those in every other Chinese city. It was nice to sit and watch him play chess against some other old men and chat with Qin Chen. We attracted a fair bit of attention at the park, as foreigners are sparse in Hai’an. One man treated Danthemanstan and I like monkeys or Martians. He sat near us, pointed us out to anyone who would listen, and as I was writing a text message, was tapping at my phone’s screen while laughing. On the way to and from the park, I noticed that Grandpa Qin was very brazen in his street crossing, paying no attention to the oncoming cars at all. Dangerous as it may be, he is eighty and probably isn’t nearly as afraid of death as me. Or he’s just plain tough.

Dinner was just as tasty as lunch, and the best thing we had was fried lotus root stuffed with pork and greens. They were awesome. Generally, when eating with Chinese people, in order to be hospitable and good hosts, they will put food onto your plate for you. I don’t like this practice at all, but put up with it, as the people putting the food on my plate usually slaved away making scrumptious and abundant dishes for me. After Grandpa Qin had put more dumplings than I could ever eat into my bowl, I ate a few, and he was reaching over with more. I tried to refuse them (also expected in Chinese manners) but he actually poured some dumplings onto my hand blocking the bowl. They were hot, so I withdrew the hand; the dumplings were added to my already heaping bowl of dumplings. Grandpa Qin won. He was quite a character: another night he poured me a shot of baijiu mixed with ginseng out of a Sprite bottle. It kind of lingered and burned in my throat for a while. He didn’t seem to mind as he drank cupfuls. He also enthusiastically showed me pictures of when he was a soldier in the late 1950s. He was stationed in Xinjiang, the massive, mostly Muslim/Turkic province in northwestern China. China took over in the early 1950s. The takeover is called a “liberation” by the Chinese government, but my little knowledge makes it sound a little more complicated than that. Hence the reason soldiers like Grandpa Qin went out there to serve. I really wanted to talk with him about it, and started some conversation, but no one really seemed interested in talking about it. I was a little surprised about how little Qin Chen or her father knew or wanted to know about her Grandpa’s life. But, as a friend reminded me, life in China in the 1950s and 1960s was incredibly volatile, horrendous, and trying-so it might be something still too sensitive to discuss. It was cool enough to see the pictures though, he was quite proud of how young and handsome he looked fifty years ago.

We spent the night at Qin Chen’s rich uncle’s house-also in Hai’an (staying with the wealthiest relative is the modus operandi). It was quite nice, newly purchased and very well furnished. Danthemanstan was only staying for one night, so we got up the next morning. As we were on our way to the bus station, a classic Chinese experience occurred. Instead of getting to the station on time comfortably, we had to stop by one of Qin Chen’s friends’ parents’ restaurant. This has happened to me before when visiting Chinese friends. Instead of making it to the bus/train on time, thus reducing stress and making the visit better, the host will make sure to take the guest to one last place, to do one last thing. Thus, we had to hurry to the bus station; worried Danthemanstan would miss the last bus of the day. Even Qin Chen, who has spent so much time with some of us foreign teachers, can’t shed some classic Chinese tendencies now and then.

I spent the rest of that day the way most Chinese seemed to be spending it, walking around town, buying some snacks and shopping. I did buy a camera case, which was a way too complicated process for a country that is trying to use increased domestic consumerism to grow an economy at 8% annually. Visiting Qin Chen’s house in Qutang (the actual town/village where she lives) was very interesting and fun. Qin Chen and I rode bikes around town; it was very enjoyable. Qutang is a pretty small town, in that you can cover most of it on bike in half an hour. Yet, it’s still a full on, all senses, fast paced rush-as riding bikes in Chinese traffic, no matter how small the town, always is. There were a lot of people milling around due to the holiday and that there are villages all around the town, with rice, soybean, greens, and other fields interspersed. Qin Chen’s house hasn’t been hit by the Usain Bolt speed development in China, which makes it pretty cool to visit. In my opinion, it is a great example of the dramatic changes occurring in this country. The toilet consists of two concrete chunks on either side of a hole above a stagnant cesspool. It’s in the corner of a dirt floor, brick shed used mainly to store and dry bean stalks-which are used in one of the stoves (the other is gas). Meanwhile, Qin Chen sits in her parents’ bedroom on her laptop, sending videos she took with her camera phone to friends. Her cousin is talking with her and browsing and playing the collection of American pop songs on her phone.

As mentioned, the reason for the trip was the joint holiday of National Day and Mid-Autumn Festival. Like any relatively noteworthy holiday in China, Mid-Autumn Festival is celebrated by lighting off fireworks. Chinese fireworks (in China nonetheless). Qin Chen wasn’t too excited about the fireworks, but you bet I was. So I spent about $15 and got a lot of fireworks. I kind of just pointed at about everything the guy on the street had, and got a big box of the type of fireworks you see at a fireworks show. I had a great time setting them off in the street outside Qin Chen’s house. Her dad and uncle were equally enthusiastic, and her dad even lit his huge stash of black cats off. All the neighbors came to check it out, and some even brought their fireworks to the party. Other than that the holiday consisted of Qin Chen’s grandmother doing some sort of incense/candle/laying out of food prayer that was to remember and nourish dead relatives. Her grandmother was way more into it than anyone else. The painting above the small shrine was Taoist, but the shrine looked more Buddhist-all in all it was probably more of the difficult to classify Chinese traditional mystical beliefs.

I have touched in this blog, and others about visits to Chinese homes, about Chinese hospitality. I returned to China both because I lead a comfortable life here and I really enjoy learning more about and experiencing foreign cultures. Even so, I don’t enjoy or understand everything about China, and I’ve never been one to hold my tongue. Visiting Chinese people is an awesome experience because you get to see how many of the people on our planet live, and this helps a lot in understanding the things my students and friends do and think. It is also a very trying experience for one’s patience and tact. I am aware enough to recognize that I have trouble exercising both of those traits. When visiting people in America, (well people that have been in America for awhile) it’s not that trying, because, in sharing a culture, almost everything is understood. The towels are over there, the juice is in the fridge, and all that jazz. Not so in China. It’s not like getting juice or a towel is that difficult (although dry towels can sometimes oddly be in short supply) but it’s rather the way it’s done. Essentially Chinese people think that they are doing what’s best for me by directing and telling me what to do at all times. They also think they’re helping me by repeating questions, which are often unnecessary or inane to begin with. I am the guest, and additionally a foreigner, so it’s best for them to explain every detail and ask multiple questions about said detail. All these questions, instructions, and general overbearing attention do nothing but frustrate me and add stress. At times I wonder how many times I have to say I’ll shower in the morning to convey the fact that I do, in fact, want and plan to shower in the morning. In order to be polite (and thus inefficient) I will refrain from expressing my frustration to the host. But this just means the frustration grows greater. Not insulting the cook is easy to do at a family style meal where one serves one’s self, and even easier when it’s buffet style. It’s not so easy when the cook is sitting next to you and is putting the food onto your plate. In this case Qin Chen’s mother, father, and grandmother were good cooks, so it wasn’t a problem…but I can’t say the same for everywhere I’ve visited. In complaining about this I remember when my family used to host visitors to Des Moines through some cultural exchange program. I wonder if the Taiwanese girls that visited would later complain about how the rude Americans just left them alone, without repeating the questions many times and generally looking after them at all times. Then again, we did make bowls of white rice for them at every meal…and I haven’t had any bread and butter put before me yet. Then again, those fried lotus roots were damn good!