Gobble, Gobble

I bet you didn’t have sushi, kimchi and a fish head on your Thanksgiving table this year, now did you? Nope, didn’t think so. That’s because you didn’t celebrate the most delicious American holiday in China. That would be me.

The plans to create a suitable Thanksgiving experience began forming weeks ago – that’s how seriously we took it. Josh (aka “The Head Pilgrim”) and Becky offered to host the soiree at their house, since it’s pretty roomy. All of our fellow teachers, both foreign and Chinese, were invited to partake in the festivities so long as they agreed to chip in for the big ticket item (the turkey) and bring a side dish of their choice (hence, the fish head). I volunteered to bring the pumpkin pie since I’d heard talk of attempting a no-bake recipe for the holiest of all Thanksgiving dishes and that just wasn’t going to happen on my watch. I took the safe route and pre-ordered one from City Shop (the Mecca of Western grocery stores), where some of the other hard-to-find items were bought.

When all was said and done, we had a veritable feast on our hands (or, more accurately, in our bellies): turkey, stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, salad, an abundance of bread, green beans, sweet potato soup, fruit salad, pumpkin pie and cheesecake. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. Oh, and the aforementioned Asian dishes that I kept far away from my plate to preserve the purity of Thanksgiving.

J+B had their place outfitted for the holiday, complete with a wall collage of hand-traced turkeys and autumnal trees dubbed “The Enchanted Forest” – kudos for the effort. As we sat around the living room scarfing down our holiday meal off disposable plates, we participated in my favorite Thanksgiving tradition – the “What I’m Thankful For” game. All of our answers were pretty much in sync: thankful to be an American, thankful for the opportunity to live and teach in China, thankful for new friends, thankful to be safe and healthy. Stephanie, who happened to be the only Chinese teacher in the room at the time, was thankful for her new apartment because “it is much bigger so there is more space.” Hey, it’s all relative.

I got a kick out of watching our non-American guests try pumpkin pie and stuffing for the first time. Lily gave them both the thumbs up (but she generally tells me whatever I want to hear), while Angela (the sarcastic one...obviously my favorite) wasn’t too jazzed about the pumpkin pie. Practically sacrilegious, if you ask me. They were also pretty confused by the whole turkey obsession (pork is the meat of choice over here), and couldn’t seem to grasp how it’s different from a chicken. So much to learn, young grasshoppers...

We rounded off the night with a few rounds of Bananagrams before catching a cab back home. I could barely keep my eyes open because I was already deep in my traditional post-Thanksgiving food coma. Seems like some things stay the same no matter where you celebrate Turkey Day. And, as domestic diva and Thanksgiving aficionado Martha Stewart would say, that’s a good thing.

Nugget Alert!

I’ve never been very good at not playing favorites. As a camp counselor at Longhorn and Mystic I was the absolute worst. But when I’m in such close proximity to sheer adorableness, my judgment is clouded. I just can’t help myself. If favoritism in the classroom is wrong, then I don’t want to be right. Here’s a list of the little muffins that get called on a few more times (ok a lot more times) than the others - so sue me:

• Stuart: Book 3 (about 4 years old) at Zi Wei. Fittingly enough, he looks like Stuart Little; a teeny, tiny little boy with ears that stick out like a mouse. He’s also super smart, well behaved, and loves me – all the necessary trappings for a teacher’s pet (pun most definitely intended).

• Scott: Book 1 (about 3 years old) at Wu Yuan. He is a good six inches shorter than the rest of his classmates and has a tinge of munchkin in his voice. Sometimes I call on him just to hear him talk because it’s just about the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. He reminds me of some sort of wee animal, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Squirrel, maybe?

• Odysseus: Book 3 at Zi Wei. The best part about his name (I know, “It gets better?” you’re asking) is that he wants it to be pronounced “OH-di-shoes.” At the start of the semester, when I was pronouncing it the right way, he would constantly correct me. (Oh really? It’s not like you’re a toddler who doesn’t speak English or anything. By all means, tell me how to pronounce the moniker of a classic literary hero...) He also has this little impish grin permanently plastered on his puppy-dog face – not to mention that he winks at me. I mean, how can I resist?

• Luke: Book 5 (about 5 years old) at Xiang Yang. This little muffin (too old to be deemed a nugget) was born in America before his parents moved back to Shanghai, so his English is bangin’. He feels like we have a special kinship since we’re from the same place and just loves on me with hug after hug after hug. Most of the time he’ll chase me out of the classroom to continue yelling, “Goodbye Hallie!” until I’m out of earshot.

• Sylvia and Ellan: Book 3 at Zi Wei. I had to include these as a pair because they’re a troublemaking tag team. Yes, they’re a bit naughty, but their near obsession with me trumps the bad behavior. As soon as I walk in the classroom they are attached to my legs like little leeches and fight over the chance to be my partner during the greeting song. Oh, and Ellan is a dude. Clearly he is supposed to be Allen. Looks like someone got their vowels transposed during the nametag making process.

• Ruby: Book 2 at Tian Lin. The classes I teach on Sundays are all mixed ages and levels, and Ruby is significantly younger than everyone else in class – but she’s a genius. She rocks a sweet bowl cut (or, as I like to call it, “bangs-all-around”) and wears especially puffy jackets that turn her into a marshmallow. I like to call her Rubina (what I call my friend Rachel’s dog Ruby, actually) and Rubylicious.

• Pretty: Book 5 at Xiang Yang. Well, her parents weren’t playing around when they chose her English name – she is really, really pretty. I want her and Luke to get married. Probably the best English speaker out of all my students; her pronunciation is spot on. The one day I put a little effort into getting ready (by forgoing my usual ponytail and exercise attire) she greeted me with “Beautiful teacher Hallie!” Compliments will get you everywhere with me, kid – especially on my list of favorite students.

•Lala: Book 1 at Wu Yuan. Lala is in my baby Book 1 class – they can’t be more than two or two and a half, tops. She likes to roll around on the floor and always sports a “pokytail” (a ponytail so short that the hair sprouts out of it like a fountain) smack dab on the top of her head. She is the spitting image of one of The Chipettes – you know, the female sidekicks of Alvin and The Chipmunks? (If you are a child of the 80s and have never seen The Chipmunk Adventure, you are doing yourself a great disservice). This class only recently got nametags, and I was truly disappointed to find out that her English name is Angela. So I still call her Lala, her Chinese name.

• Jeff: The same baby Book 1 at Wu Yuan. He and Lala are part of the cutest crew of kids who all sit next to each other. He has a surprisingly deep and raspy voice for such a little tyke and is also very clever. For the first two weeks of class, he would cry without fail from the minute I walked in the door until the minute I left. But one day he up and decided I wasn’t all that bad and now we’re besties.

• William: Book 5 at Xiang Yang. He isn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but he tries so hard. He over pronounces absolutely everything, with his tongue flying every which way like it’s numb from a trip to the dentist. I was really confused as to why he sometimes spoke through a smile with gritted teeth. Then I realized that he was mimicking me (I smile...a lot) in an effort to speak correctly. My heart just about melted right then and there.

But, it must be said, they are all pretty damn cute –and it’s a good thing I think that because they are the (little) people I spend the vast majority of my time with. Yep, my best friends in China are all under the age of five. I’ve been blogging a lot about the out-of-the-ordinary things we do here (traveling, holidays, adventures, etc.) but I haven’t said much about the muffin wrangling. A typical class goes a little something like this:

I walk into the freezing classroom (no centralized heating allowed below the Yangtze River – makes me long for the land of the free and the home of the warm) to a room full of marshmallow-jacketed, scarf-mummified children bombarding me with a symphony of “Hello teacher!” and “Good morning Hallie!” After singing the greeting song (each level has its own) we jump straight into the day’s lesson. This is when all of the funny stories are born. One time Buffin had a girl say, “I hurt my ass” instead of “I hurt my arm” during a unit on helping others. You can’t tell me you’d be able to stifle laughter with a cherubic pre-schooler unwittingly cussing and expecting a high five for it. When I was giving a mid-semester test to my kids at Zi Wei they were supposed to tell me what fruit or vegetable they liked best, but I got two especially clever responses: “I like Canada” and “I like rabbit.” Hey, at least it’s English.

Most of the lessons involve at least one game, because that is what keeps them interested and motivated. I think the all-around favorite would have to be the “tickle game”, where a student has to find a certain graphic (vocabulary word with a crappy clip-art picture on it) before I count to five or else they get tickled. Pretty sure that wouldn’t fly in America. Hmm, can you say sexual harassment?

But it’s not all fun and games – there is a decent amount of disciplining involved. My most effective method is something I’ve dubbed “The Death Stare.” If a kid is acting up or chatting, I walk over to their chair and stare at them with my hands on my hips. Enormously effective, actually. I’m sure a few ex-boyfriends would agree. Sometimes I attempt to do what the Chinese teachers do, which is sternly and loudly say, “Yi, er, san!” [“One, two, three!”], and the kids respond with something that translates into something along the lines of “Sit quietly!” The only problem is that they usually just laugh. I mean, can you believe it? Chinese. Coming out of a white person’s mouth. Incredible. But as the only English-fluent person in the entire room I think I get the last laugh in the language war, often entertaining myself by making comments that I know for a fact they can’t understand: From “Uh-huh girl, get it” to “You are all Satan’s children,” depending on the day.

Class comes to a close with a round of personal goodbyes. Each student gets to choose from these exciting options: high five, handshake, hug or tickle. That last option there is far and away the most popular. I have one student, Emily, who says “pickle” instead of “tickle.” I haven’t corrected her because it’s too darn cute. [And I know what you’re thinking. “Again with the tickles, Hallie?” Let me just say that this whole tickling thing is part of the curriculum that they’ve taught us to use.] This is the part of the day when I realize how much I’m going to miss them – when I really feel like they’re my kids. Because no matter how hard they’ve pushed my buttons during class, there is nothing like a hug from a Chinese nugget, all bundled up in their winter gear. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Almost enough to counteract the fact that the classrooms are like iceboxes...almost.

Uncle Hal Hops Across The Pond

A few weeks ago I was lucky enough to get a visit from my Uncle Hal, the person I just so happen to be named after. I was pretty bummed that my dad wasn’t going to be able to come to Shanghai, but Uncle H is a more-than-worthy substitute. If you know me at all, you know that I’m (unusually?) close with my extended family and Uncle Hal is no exception. This is the man, after all, who created The H Club (the elite members being Hal, my cousin Holden and yours truly), and wrote me letters at camp encoded in our very own secret language. He also taught me to say, “I’m a genius” when I was three and, unbeknownst to me, made several birthday appearances as Halmo the Clown. Nowadays he sends me e-mails with links to articles he thinks I’ll find interesting and is my go-to expert for all my grammar quandaries (I seem to have inherited this nerdy interest along with his name). So, in a nutshell, I already knew he was pretty awesome before he decided he should fly halfway across the world to make sure I knew how much my family loved and missed me.

The night that Uncle H flew in, Buffin and I met him for dinner at Lost Heaven (the first in a string of delicious meals). It was surreal seeing him walk up to the restaurant, like he didn’t belong in the odd little life I’ve created for myself over here. But he came bearing gifts from back home (birthday, Christmas and miscellaneous goodies), which quickly snapped me out of my “this-doesn’t-seem-real” frame of mind. Starbucks coffee grounds, some excellent selections from the Hal Finnegan Personal Library and enough yummy-scented hand sanitizer to eradicate H1N1 from all of Shanghai.

Throughout the week, Uncle Hal boldly navigated the city while Buffin and I were in class (except one morning when he observed my classes at Xiang Yang...I caught him making faces with Robert, one of my adorable troublemakers), and at night we’d meet up for dinner. We got to tick many of the must-try restaurants off our list – Lost Heaven (my favorite Chinese meal I’ve had since we got here), Haiku (the best Sushi I’ve ever had...period), Fountain (snazzy international menu in expat heaven, Xintiandi), Coconut Paradise (amazing Thai) and Vue (fancy food and unparalleled views of The Bund and Pudong).

On Thursday night we went to see ERA Intersection of Time at Shanghai Circus World, the most famous of all the acrobatic shows in town. We had amazing third-row seats and were right in the midst of all the action – and there was plenty of it. One act consisted of some super agile men jumping, diving and flipping through a series of rotating hoops. My favorite part was a metal contraption that looked like a bunch of spinning hamster wheels connected to each other. The performers would hop and flip from one “wheel” to another (sometimes blindfolded) as it went around in circles. My heart was basically in my throat the whole time. But the scariest part, by far, was the motorcycle cage. Imagine this: an enormous, metal, spherical cage with eight – count ‘em, eight – motorcycles flying around inside. Petrifying doesn’t begin to describe it. Our circus-like night continued after the show ended, when Buffin and my cab got a flat tire in the pouring rain. Our poor cabbie changed that sucker in 10 minutes flat, even jacking it up, all the while Buff and I were safe and dry inside. Quite a memorable evening.

On Friday (one of our days off), we met Uncle Hal at the Urban Planning Museum in People’s Square. On the second floor there was a massive diorama of Shanghai that covered the floor of the entire room. It was shocking to see just how big this place is – we haven’t even seen the half of it. One floor was solely dedicated to the 2010 Expo, which Shanghai is furiously preparing for. They’re constructing a slew of buildings along the northernmost part of the Huangpu River. It was nice to finally see what all the hubbub is about. The trippiest part, however, was on the tip-top floor where there was a special exhibition of Mao-era propaganda posters. The name of the exhibit was something along the lines of “Sweet Memories.” I think the one that freaked us out the most was a poster of a massive explosion with the words “All hail the glorious Hydrogen bomb!” on it. What the heck, China?

The next day, Uncle H set off on a weeklong excursion to Hangzhou and Beijing before making a quick stop back in Shanghai. By the time he returned, poor Buff was bedridden with a cold, so that meant I got to spend some one-on-one time with him. We checked out the peaceful Jade Buddha Temple (one of the only historical landmarks left in rapidly modernizing Shanghai), where we got a chance to watch the Buddhist monks chanting, and the Yu Bazaar in Old Town for a little souvenir shopping. We also went to see the nearby Chenxiangge Nunnery, but were sadly disappointed when there were no bald-headed nuns to be found, like the guidebook had said. That night, we went to a chi-chi dinner at Vue, the restaurant at the top of The Hyatt on the Bund. It was, in a word, fabulous. Afterward, we popped up to the Vue bar to check out the nighttime views of Pudong and the Bund – a quintessential part of the Shanghai experience.

It was hard to say goodbye to Uncle Hal that night, but it was comforting to know that I would see him (and the rest of my family) in just a few short months. And even after he left the next day, Uncle H left something behind to keep me going – a surprise goody bag at the front desk of his hotel. He knew I needed something to get me through the next day at work (I loathe Sundays) and this was the solution he came up with all by himself. Now, how could I not feel loved? Precisely.

Ooh, Hangzhou, Do You Know What That’s Worth? You Make Heaven A Place On Earth.

This past weekend, Buffin and I went to Hangzhou with her dad, Joe, who was in Asia on business. This “small” city (a mere 6 million residents compared to Shanghai’s 20 million) is the most popular tourist destination in China for the Chinese. During his 13th-century travels through Asia, Marco Polo (of children's swimming pool game notoriety...and probably some other stuff, too) said that Hangzhou was "beyond dispute the finest and noblest city in the world." Not too shabby.

When I told Touba, our waiban, about our travel plans she got all flustered (as she tends to do when she wants to communicate something in English) and eventually spit out the following ancient Chinese saying:

“Heaven above, Suzhou and Hangzhou below.”

Both Suzhou and Hangzhou (pronounced “Sue Joe” and “Hong Joe” – tricky, I know) are a quick train ride away from Shanghai – 40 minutes and 1.5 hours, respectively. Suzhou is famed for its gardens and Hangzhou is well known for its massive lake. We figured that a lake seemed a touch more masculine than a bunch of flowers, so we opted to take Papa Joe – who is more of the “huntin’ and fishin’ and bein’ a man type” – to Hangzhou. [We’re planning a trip to Suzhou in the upcoming weeks with Helen and Elliot]

Now, when the Chinese refer to Hangzhou as a paradise-like locale, they’re probably alluding to the rolling, mist-covered hills or the enormous, willow-lined West Lake. And, certainly, the classical Chinese scenery was breathtaking. But I think what made the trip “heavenly” for Buff and me was staying at The Sofitel, a bastion of Western luxuries: an exercise room, CNN and HBO, a bathtub and beds that didn’t remotely feel like the slabs of concrete we have in our apartment.

On our first day in lovely Hangzhou, Buffin and I woke up bright and early at 7 a.m., something I typically forbid on vacations. But, we’re in such a habit of getting up early for school that we rarely sleep past 8 a.m. anyway. My dad is probably glowing with pride right now since he considers sleeping late as some sort of a weakness in one’s character. We headed to the gym to take advantage of the rare chance to exercise in clean air. (It’s been said that a 20-minute run outside in Shanghai is the equivalent of smoking a pack of cigarettes). Hear that, Susie Fitness? I worked out on a vacation. Invite me back to Cabo and maybe I’ll even do yoga with you this time.

After completely undoing any good we may have just accomplished on the treadmill with a visit to the decadent breakfast buffet on the terrace, we headed out to explore the West Lake by boat. Our first stop was an island called “Three Pools Mirroring the Moon.” You’ve got to hand it to the Chinese – they’ve got a real dramatic flair when it comes to naming things. I can appreciate that. The island was a treasure trove of “classic Chinese scenery”: ancient pagodas, floating lily pads, schools of Koi fish and misty hills in the distance. But while we were busy taking pictures of the beautiful vistas, the Chinese tourists were more concerned with capturing our picture. I admire the people that have the balls to ask us for permission and jump on in there like we’re besties, as opposed to the sketches that lurk behind trees. Also, does this mean that there are family vacation photo albums out there that feature Buffin and me? Oh, I kind of hope so.

Next, we hopped across the lake to the mausoleum of General Yu Fei – a commander of the Song Dynasty armies who was executed after being deceived by a treacherous court official. [Omg! Dramz! How scandalous.] It was actually a nice break from the typical pagoda or temple we’ve become so accustomed to – lots of interesting sculptures and architecture, plus a particularly romantic ivy-covered bridge that could have come straight out of The Secret Garden.

After paying our respects to poor ‘ol Yu Fei, we crossed a causeway to get to Gushan Island. As luck would have it, we came across a couple taking engagement photos on the bridge. We had to stop to soak up all the cheesy goodness that was going on there. My favorite pose was the “Oh my gosh, hey photographer – we didn’t see you there! We were just holding hands, casually leaning back, gazing into each other’s eyes and thinking about how in love we are!” one. We briefly stopped in the Zhejiang Provincial Museum, whose only redeeming quality was the sign outside that had a picture of a bicycle on it and the words “Decline Inside” – Chinglish for “Not Allowed Inside,” I’m assuming.

We had a quick pick-me-up of delicious orange iced tea after we got back onto the mainland and then headed up to the Baochu Pagoda high in the hills. The steep stairs gave me painful flashbacks to The Great Wall, but we reached the top in just 10 or 15 minutes. Unusually thin for a pagoda, the Baochu was said to have been erected to bless the safe return of a prince, and is likened to a beautiful, slender girl. Nothing like a pretty little lady to get the prodigal son home safe and sound. I guess some things cross cultures.

Buff and Joe wanted to check out the Lingyin Temple next, but I decided to cash in my chips early and head back to the hotel – that bathtub was calling my name. Turns out I made a good decision, because my counterparts couldn’t find a cab back to the hotel and ended up walking most of the way. If you have ever traveled with me, you know that I’m not the most pleasant person to be around when I’m tired and my feet hurt. So I guess it was a good choice for all of us; I have turned passive-aggressive complaining into an art form.

After “having a rest” (an über-popular Chinglish expression), we capped off our day with a nighttime water show called Impressions West Lake. The show was presented on a stage submerged just a few inches below the surface of the lake, so it looked like the performers were everyday Jesuses. The use of glow-in-the-dark props, music, lighting boats, and – of course – the water, made the whole thing pretty magical. The story was briefly translated in English as First Act: Meeting, Second Act: Fall in Love, Third Act: Say Goodbye, Fourth Act: Memory, Fifth Act: Impression. What they didn’t mention, however, was the most awesome part of all: NINJAS! Yep, the heroine is kidnapped by ninjas, who also performed a pretty wicked dance with drums. Every time they beat on the instruments, water would go flying everywhere. I think it was my favorite part – too bad Joe was “having a rest” at that moment in the show.

Day two of our trip was dedicated to the sites of Hangzhou that weren’t centered on the West Lake. After more than one bad experience with finding a cab the day before, Joe decided it would be best to just rent one for the day. No complaints here. Mr. Chan (our cabbie-chauffeur extraordinaire) was a pleasant, albeit very silent, man who donned a sporty racecar jacket.

Stop one was Qinghefang Old Street where we attempted to find the Chinese Medicine Museum but failed. Luckily, there were more than enough other things to entertain us: street performers, trinket stands and an endless supply of traditional Chinese medicine shops trying to sell things like roots (believed to be aphrodisiacs) for ungodly sums of money. Buffin and Joe made the best purchase of the day when they got a 3-D image of themselves put into a crystal cube. What a keepsake.

Next we hit up the Six Harmonies Pagoda, one of the most popular tourist attractions in Hangzhou. It was all sorts of pretty on the outside and a whole lotta boring on the inside. The 60-meter high pagoda was built in 960 A.D. and named after the six codes of Buddhism: charity, uprightness, forbearance, dispassion, dauntlessness and contemplation. It also served as a lighthouse that allegedly had the magical power to halt the 40-foot high tidal bore that thunders up the Qintang River in mid-September every year. I love how everything has some sort of mystical, ancient lore behind it.

The rest of the day was a flurry of museums – porcelain, silk and tea. They were all (surprisingly) interesting. The Chinese are really proud of their contributions to society and these three commodities top the list. You couldn’t escape signs at each of these places that basically said, “Hey, world, you’d be shit out of luck without us.” The tea museum, our final destination, was hidden amongst the hills of Hangzhou. Mr. Chan took us via the scenic route (a.k.a. we drove on a sidewalk in the back roads) and we got a chance to really soak up the views. The museum is on 3.7 hectares (which, thanks to my Uncle Hal, I now know is roughly 9 acres) of tea-bush laden land dedicated to the art, cultivation and tasting of China’s favorite drink. Random Chinese Tea Fact of the Day: Hangzhou originated Longjing Tea, a famous variety of green tea.

After a quick bite to eat at the hotel, we hopped a train back to Shanghai – and the real world. When we got to our apartment, I found humidity-bred mold growing on my bedroom wall. Sucks babe #1. In an attempt to kill/clean/disinfect it, I accidentally dripped bleach on a pile of my laundry, including a brand new skirt. Sucks babe #2. And, just like that...poof! The spell was broken. I was no longer in heaven, but back on earth. Where I spill things. A lot.