A Christmas, Come and Gone

Christmas 2012 has officially come and gone.

This isn't from Christmas, but it looks like an ornament... 

Unless you were ensconced with an enclave of foreigners it felt like any other Tuesday.
Super Husband had class in the morning, although I didn't have to work.
I spent my morning at Hepingxiqiao Market, where I procured some gifts for Super Husband. I got him, and his roommate, hot water pouches.
I'm pretty sure I've elaborated on them before, but they're just about the coolest thing out there. Super Husband's roommate was especially excited about his after I told him that if you put it under the covers in your bed while you go take a shower your bed is all toasty and delicious when you get into it. Plus, he hates the cold, so anything that can be used to banish it's icy tentacles... well, he's in favor.
After procuring these last minute gifts I met Super Husband for lunch at Pyro Pizza, where we had all you can eat pizza, which happily includes all you can eat salad as well. (And if you're into that kind of thing, for 5rmb more, all you can drink beer.)
After the gift exchange our Christmas devolved into Just Another Tuesday. We took the bus back to Super Husband's dorm, where we took a nap.
Wooooooo, Christmas.
Oddly enough, though, I don't really miss it. And he says he doesn't either.
Maybe it's the almost complete lack of fanfare, or the fact that we're used to 70degree Christmases.
Or maybe it's the fact that my parents are coming to visit next week... That's probably it.

Also, I heard the other day that this is Beijing's coldest winter in 20 years.
And I thought I was being a baby about the cold, but no! EVERYONE is whining about the cold. Not just me. (After I wrote that I googled it, and I can't find anything definitive about it, and it looooks like maybe 2010 was colder... But still, it's cold here.)
And also, also I may have to buy some uggs. I hate them, with every ounce of fashion sense and style I possess, but my toe-preservation-instincts are wining this particular battle.
I don't like cold toes.
And two pairs of socks just aren't cutting it.
Today, after walking the 20 minutes home, my toes HURT from the cold. They hurt.
That's wrong. Bad and wrong. Toes should not feel pain from anything other than a stub, or possibly the pinch of wearing cute shoes dancing.
So, Uggs, you may have won this particular battle. But I don't have to like it... I just have to have all ten of my toes when I return to Texas.

Follies of Baking in China

As Christmas approaches the disparity between the frenzied shopping, the egg nog bought at Kroger and spiked with Kraken rum, and other holiday traditions becomes more and more clear.
One thing that I have held on to, with the help of my coworker, Zach, was Baking Cookies.
Zach is cat sitting for a friend who has, miracle of all miracles and wonder of all wonders, a REAL OVEN.
So, of course, we had a cats and cookies party. Which consisted of Zach, his friend Caroline from some sport (dodge ball? softball? I dunno, he plays a lot of sports), and me.
I looked up some cookie recipes on Pinterest that morning, and found one that is called "HolyCrapTheseAreAmazing Cookies". It looked easy enough, and yummy, so I thought we'd give it a try, along with some cream cheese brownie bites, chocolate chip cookies, and peanut butter chip cookies.
We got all the ingredients together, and Zach measured out the sugar for me so that I could begin making the corn syrup substitute (because corn syrup is ungodly expensive here... so is most western stuff, but corn syrup was stupidly so, seeing as you can boil up a substitute in five minutes).
Corn syrup substitute is just simple syrup, or water and sugar boiled together for a little while.
Except this simple syrup wasn't acting the way any simple syrup has ever acted in my entire history of cooking/baking.
As soon as I reduced the heat to take it from a full boil to a slow simmer the top of the mixture crystalized.
At this point I'm really regretting not having taken photos, but really, I had no idea.
So, it crystalized. I thought "Whaaaaaat?", turned the heat back up, stirred furiously, turned the heat back down and watched it happen again... only worse.
I was dealing with a weird, white mass, and a little liquid.
Here's where I made a big mistake:
I poured the liquid into the peanut butter (because you're supposed to combine your peanut butter and your sweet liquid) and I stirred, and I stirred, and I stirred.
And then I did a smart thing... Only, it was too late:
I tasted the weird white mass, expecting nothing more than a mild sugar rush from a piece of basically pure sugar.
What I received instead was a literal salt lick.
It was salt.
And I had already mixed some of it into my peanut butter.
Perfect.
Zach and I decided "No big deal. Peanut butter is really sweet anyway..." So, I got real sugar out, the sugar that said sugar in English on the package, instead of the sugar that we just thought was sugar, and I tasted it.
Then I poured it into a pan and started making a new batch of simple syrup, which acted exactly the way simple syrup is supposed to.
So, I mixed that in with my peanut butter, threw in the corn flakes, and attempted to coat them.
I followed the recipe EXACTLY... Well, except for that salt bit... but there were WAY too many cornflakes. And then, I tasted a bit of the cornflakes that were covered. And it was a peanuty salt lick.
So, I threw them all away, made a cup of tea, and cuddled with cats until I deemed myself recovered enough to make my brownie bites.
The lesson here is, obviously, taste things before you add large quantities of them to foods you are preparing.
But, my brownie bites came out really, really well. I enjoyed them immensely.
And, I've found out that WuMart sells dried lemon slices, so now my morning mug of steaming water has a lemony zing to it. Hurrah!
It was good to be able to bake again, even if one creation did turn out... wrong.
I do think, however, that I will attempt them again. You don't need an oven for them, so I could whip some up in the comfort of my own home, no problem.

Now, it's Christmas Eve.
Super Husband is diligently slaving away at his studies, and I spent most of my lunch break at the market hunting for presents for my students, and the teachers. My kids are each getting a puzzle, and the teachers are getting these cheesy snake animal things, because they were cute, cheap, and next year is the year of the Snake.

Adieu

Dictionaries and Doodads

It's been almost a week since I wrote anything.
Shame on me.
But life has settled into a cozy winter normalcy that doesn't really inspire my creative genius.
Or, more truthfully... It's bloody cold outside, and I have opted to stay inside my heated flat as much as possible in order to avoid frostbite.
Well, I guess it isn't thaaaaat cold, really. But we all must remember that I have spent the entirety of my life in cities whose temperatures are generally closer to 100 than 32. Or, for those of you inclined to Celsius: closer to 38 than 0.
There is still snow on the ground, and icy patches on the roads.

On Friday, because we had the day off, my coworkers, Super Husband and I all ventured to one of the Western bookstores in the city. The english selection was a little disappointing, being heavily populated by high school reading list material, teen lit, and Aesop's fables.
What I found interesting was the organizational system of these books. The dewey decimal system was far from their minds. As was alphabetical order by author. No, they chose to order these books by publisher.
Alphabetical order, by book title, group together by publisher. It was very, very strange.
Despite this strange organizational technique, Super Husband managed to find not one, but two worthwhile dictionaries to purchase.
The first is a Spanish to Mandarin dictionary, with both the characters and the pinyin.
The second is a Spanish and English and Mandarin dictionary. That one is, however, sadly devoid of pinyin. But never fear. We've devised a system. Whenever Super Husband doesn't immediately know the characters for something in the trilingual dictionary, well, that's where the other one comes in.
I, on the other hand, will never grasp the characters. Pinyin, maybe. Spoken word. Possibly. But I have little to no faith in my ability to read (and even less in my ability to recreate) Chinese characters. There's just something there that I can't seem to recognize.
All stereotypes and politically incorrect jokes aside, I can't make heads or tails of it. Sometimes it annoys me, but mostly I have accepted it as one of the very few failings of my brain, to be cataloged away with all mathematics after ninth grade, and the hand eye coordination needed to be truly good at video games.
As a side note to any visitors who are joining us here in China -- I can't even read the menus at restaurants. I either eat the same five dishes that I can say the names of from two different restaurants, or I go to a restaurant that has a picture menu. Thankfully, many of the "nicer" restaurants have picture menus.
No wonder I'm getting tired of Chinese food.

On Saturday Super Husband and I debated over the necessity of going to a market.
I am in need of new boots, and he has heard a rumor that there is a market here that is sure to have some... action figures (?) that he wants desperately.
We ended up walking through the park and looking at the ice, and puppy prints, instead. It was a nice way to spend a Saturday afternoon... But I still need boots. And those action figures won't buy themselves.

And now it's Tuesday evening, and Super Husband is toiling away at school, diligently cramming large bits of a language I find incomprehensible into his brain. He doesn't get a day off for Christmas, and neither do I. It will be my first December 25th spent working, in any capacity. It's going to be pretty weird. It'll definitely be his first Christmas spent in a classroom.
Which reminds me: We need to buy a stupid amount of small Christmas presents to give to people.
Well, it looks like we'll be spending this weekend at the markets.
Hopefully we can pick up some boots and zodiac saints while we're buying nicknacks and doodads.

All You Can Eat Sushi, and Snow. (But not at the same time)

On Saturday Super Husband's class gathered at a Japanese restaurant near their school.
We thought we were going to be late because it took us almost 30 minutes to flag down a taxi, but we got out right as everyone was shuffling past us, huddled into their jackets after walking in the cold. It was a stroke of luck, too, because we would have walked in the wrong direction if we hadn't seen them.
So we all trundled into the restaurant and were ushered into one of those cool booth/rooms with the sliding papered panels, and the table set low in the center. We had to take off our shoes before going in, but that was the only down side.
Well, that and the fact that the layout means that the servers hand all of the drinks and plates to whoever was unlucky enough to find themselves seated by the door.
For 58rmb($9.50)/person (and there were 15 of us) we were presented with unlimited bottles of beer, coke, sprite, juice, water, or tea, sushi, sashimi, fried pork (possibly milanese style), fried boneless chicken, some sort of fish with the head, tail, and scales still attached of which I did not partake, fried potatoes, edamame, and some other things that I don't know the names of.
Now, here I must say that I tolerate sushi. I don't love it, or crave it. I eat it when it is presented, or when Super Husband craves it.
But I have to admit, I was rather pleasantly surprised by this place.
The salmon sashimi melted in my mouth.
The sushi rolls didn't have the weird seaweed-y aftertaste taste that I don't enjoy.
All in all, it was a rather pleasant evening.
From there, a few of us went to Wudaoko. I think the original plan had been to keep the party going, but we ended up by mutual agreement in The Bridge, a nice coffee shop that's open 24hours.
I had a cafe americano, because it got free refills, and a brownie.
Super Husband got a blueberry cheesecake and a hot chocolate.
My coffee was coffee, but Super Husband waxed poetic about his hot chocolate. It was, apparently, the perfect combination of chocolate, sweetness, and milk.
He wouldn't even let me have a sip.
My brownie was quite good, as well. I generally enjoy a fudgier brownie, but this was served a la mode, and I allowed it to soak up all the vanilla goodness.
Except for the spoonful of ice cream that I slipped into my coffee.
Super Husband's blueberry cheesecake seemed to be a disappointment to him, but that may be because only three blueberries graced the top of the cake, and not even a drop of blueberry syrup was drizzled decoratively around the plate.
Poor presentation, mixed with lackluster flavor.

But that was Saturday, and now it's Wednesday.
Not much has happened between those days. I went to work, he went to school.
Except that today... well..
It's snowing.

I didn't realize this morning that that was the cause of the distinct lack of light, but as I pushed the door to my building open with the front wheel of my bicycle it hit me.

Quite literally.

I was blasted in the face by tiny snowflakes. 

I'd never ridden my bike through the snow before, and it was really quite fun. You don't achieve the same sort of light speed feeling that you get when driving through the snow. Possibly because I wasn't using headlights. 

Anyway, I'm about to cut this short and go make snow angels outside.

I have decided that if the drivers and the guard think I'm crazy, well, that's a small price to pay for a tiny snowman and some snow angels. 

Leaky Radiators, Not Just for Cars Anymore.

This has been one of those weeks. 

Wednesday night, at 11pm almost exactly, the power in my apartment went out. 

I was mildly annoyed, but not enough to get out of my warm bed and figure anything out. 

I called my agent in the morning and told her that the power was out. She said she'd send "the fix man" to flip the breaker, and further investigate. 

At 7:40am, as I was winding my scarf around my neck to leave, I heard a weird whooshing, watery sound. At first, I decided that it was something going on on the roof. But being the prudent renter that I am, I walked back into my apartment and checked. The noise was definitely coming from the mantel-like enclosure that houses the heater in my living room. Now, remember here that my power is still out, so I couldn't actually SEE anything. I used my phone to shine a light in through the mesh, and caught the distinct reflection of water. 

Yep, water was spraying out of the radiator, and filling the little enclosure. 

This is the heater enclosure, after the screen and heater were removed.
The pink soap you see there was used, somehow, to patch the hole in the
heater. I'm not sure how that works, exactly. But it did. 

I called my agent again and informed her of the situation. 

She said "I'll call the fix man. You go to work first." 

This seemed like a bad idea, to me. But I laid out a couple towels next to the enclosure, and hoped that I wouldn't return to a completely flooded apartment. 

Luckily, Super Husband was the one to actually step in and take care of everything. 

But not until after the water had leaked into the apartment below, thereby enraging the downstairs neighbors. 

Apparently Super Husband endured an irate termagant screaming in his face. 

I'm sorry for him, but glad that it wasn't me. At least he could understand some of what she was actually saying, and respond. 

I'm sure I would have just stoked her ire by repeating "Wo ting bu dong" (I don't understand). 

The heat to the entire building had to be shut off.

The landlord apologized to the neighbors. 

When I returned home a little after 5:30 Super Husband, the landlord, and the "fix man" were sitting around the living room, chatting and waiting for some other men to come and remove the offending heater, and the heater in the bathroom, which was deemed unsatisfactory. 

 

While the two men who were tasked with removing the heater were here the front door was left open. 

Apparently this is seen as an invitation for anyone venturing past, or near, to come inside and offer their opinion on how best to remove the heater. 

A rather heated discussion between the fix man, the heater men, and two men who I believe are my neighbors ensued. I have no idea who won the argument, but the upshot was that the heaters were removed. 

Only after both neighbors had the gall to actually smoke inside of my apartment. 

They managed to make my bathroom look like the most disgusting of public toilets, as well. I should probably take a picture, just so that everyone can see the damage. 

But I'll wait until the people that are replacing my leaking water heater leave. 

They're sure to make it even more... picturesque.

Isn't this lovely?
I assure you, my bathroom is not normally host to broken buckets,
weird iron stools, or any amount of dirty brown muck. 

 The upshot of this whole episode is that the leaking water heater has been replaced, and I should be able to count on the fact that the radiators will be in good working order until they're no longer needed... Right?

Let's Get a Physical, Physical

Today, Tuesday, I was forced to endure a physical exam.
I asked if I could just have my last exam sent from the states, but apparently that's not okay.
So, I hopped on the subway and made my way to the hospital, accompanied by one of my coworkers, Zach, who also needed to get his physical as per government requirements.
We got to the hospital at around 9:15 and proceeded to queue for the registration line. The woman behind me was definitely unhappy with my ability to keep her from cutting in line, but as you'll see this is a theme of the day.
From registration we proceeded to the second floor for the Physical Exam registration, which took only a minute.
From there we proceeded to the third floor to pay.
This is where all the fun began.
The woman behind me grew more and more agitated that I wouldn't let her in cut me. Here I would like to point out that the person in front of me was a 6'7" American man, with whom I was obviously conversing. Does it seem like we want you to slip between us? Does that make sense to anyone? It took over 30 minutes to proceed through the payment line.
Everything was moving along slowly, but without hiccups until we were informed that Zach has too much money in his account to pay the 120rmb fee.
Yes, you read that correctly.
We're not talking about insufficient funds. The opposite in fact. Apparently it is unheard of, and unacceptable, to have whatever amount he has (the sum 12,000rmb was bandied about at one point) in ones account.
So he was told to proceed to the ATM and re-queue to pay. I saved him by pulling out two crisply minted 100rmb bills from my wallet. But only after ascertaining that they cannot (or will not...) accept my Healthcare Savings Visa, simply because it is foreign. Apparently Visa isn't everywhere you want to be. Or was that Mastercard's slogan?
During our time finagling with the payments the woman behind me became more and more agitated, and actually tried to shove her papers through the window before I could. Now, my previous experience in Asia served me well, because lemme tell you I wasn't having it. Not at all. I saw that move coming and swung my large purse into the hand holding her papers at the same moment that I pushed my papers, and payment, through the window. It was a pretty skillful move, if I do say so myself.
All the while, our agent was holding places for us in the blood draw line.
Here, I must warn away the faint of heart. I am about to discuss, in detail, the ordeal that was having blood drawn. If this will in any way make you squirm, or turn away in disgust I suggest that you skip directly to the following paragraph. In fact, I'll color the offending section in purple, just so you know when it is safe to read again.
The blood draw, at least at this particular hospital, is not a room. It is on the first floor, near the entrance, and it is three windows. You line up for the window of your choice. When it is your turn you hand them your paperwork and stick your arm through the window, on a little pillow. They tourniquet your arm, tap for the vein, sterilize with that orange stuff we call Monkey Blood, stick a butterfly needle in that sucker and fill up the requisite number of vials. Or at least that's what happens when all goes well, as it did for Zach. He says that he's difficult to stick, but they did it on the first try. 
This lifted my spirits. I thought, if it usually takes two or three tries for him, maybe they'll be able to cut down on my normal four or five tries. 
False hope my friends, false hope. 
I handed over my paperwork and stuck my left arm through. Tourniquet applied, vein tapped for... tapped again... rubbed... tapped for, and finally the butterfly needle inserted. To no avail. Then she did the worst thing they can ever, ever do. She moved the needle around. IN MY ARM. I hate that. I hate it so, so much. In fact, I hate it so much that it is the ENTIRE reason that my children will be born outside of a traditional hospital. (Shh, don't tell this to Bopa. I'm aware of his views as an OBGYN, and I will confront them when it is necessary.) So, she moved the needle. And pulled it out. And reinserted it. And wiggled it some more. All the while I was breathing into my sleeve like it was a paper bag. No go on the left arm. So I rather begrudgingly thrust my right arm in and we repeated the entire process. Except this time some blood came out. It trickled so slowly that it resembled nothing more than a slow IV drip. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she pulled the needle out of my arm, and I was free to proceed to the X-Ray.

All unpleasantness is over... mostly.
The X-ray area, on the second floor, is a series of rooms with computer screens in the antechambers, and  large x-ray taking apparatus in the inner sanctum. Once inside, one is bid to remove all jewelry and and brassieres that may have metal underwires. As all the best ones do, you know. Then, you press up against this thing, and they say "Okay". And that's pretty much it. Except that while you're behind the curtain, putting whatever you took off, back on, they let the next person into the room. Which is weird. I'm all for efficiency, but I'd like to get my earrings back on before the next person comes in, please. And yes, earrings were the least of my worries.

From x-rays we traversed the halls to the "gynecological exam". Which wasn't a gynecological exam so much as a man (I assume he was a doctor, but honestly I have no idea) pressing on my stomach and saying "Hurts?".
Zach, however, was not so lucky. His exam apparently involved a swab like object being inserted into his urethra. He is scarred for life. Or so he says.
It does seem rather unpleasant, and I'm not really sure what they're testing for that wouldn't show up on blood work.

After the pressing, and the scarring, the last thing to do was get our blood pressure taken. Mine was lovely, as it always is. A glorious 115/60. Again, Zach was not so lucky. He had to take his twice because it was too high the first time. Even the second time was pretty up there, but the read out on the machine pleased the nurse, and so she checked the box, and we were free to go.

And go we did. Straight to a delicious Middle Eastern restaurant where I had a shwarma wrap, hummus, and lemon tea. Mmmm hummus.
From there we went to Jenny Lou's.
Jenny Lou's is the foreign grocery store, and it's a dream.
Cereal, cheese, meats, cake mixes, pasta, refried beans, tortillas, chips, dips, ice cream... you name it, they've got it.
Well, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration.
But they have Dr. Pepper. Mind you, it's over $1 per can. But it's there.
I didn't buy anything. I kept my hands firmly in my pockets the entire time.
I'm going to wait until payday, and then splurge for some of the things we've been missing most.
Like really great cereals for Super Husband.

A field trip, hummus, and 24 snowflakes

Yesterday was a rather lovely Wednesday.

I’d been looking forward to it for a while because the kindergarten had scheduled a field trip.

I love field trips more now than I did as a kid, I think.

We piled onto two large coach buses at 9am and set out for Chaoyang park. Chaoyang seems to be part park, part amusement area, part educational facility. We went through the science building, which boasts hands on activities to teach kids about light and sound.

There was even a 3d movie.

So, in this picture one of my students' faces in blurred out, 

because I am not his parent, and I'm not releasing his image to the world.

Overall it was a good outing. No one went missing or got lost, and I got a cool lanyard out of the deal.

A photographer followed us around taking pictures, which I thought was weird, but I assume it’s for advertisements… “Hey, look how awesome our school is. Not only do we have real live white people teaching our kids English, we also occasionally remove them from the confines of our campus and take them on educational adventures. Now pay us lots of money so that your kids can be part of this, too!”… It’s a wonder I didn’t go into advertising, right?

There’s also the possibility that specific parents paid money for their children to be photographed on this education adventure, because I did notice that he was paying special attention to a few of the kids in my class.

In other news, I have adopted the Chinese custom of drinking hot water.

It used to disgust me to even contemplate drinking anything warmer than room temperature water, but I have been converted.

I have yet to see any of the health benefits that the head teacher of the Bumblebee class swears exist:

“You have menstrual cramps? Drink hot water.”…“You have a headache? Drink hot water.” Even so I am currently, as I type this, drinking a steaming cup of water.

Now, it is no substitute for the Twinings’ English Breakfast that I have prominently displayed in my kitchen, but it is soothing to my chapped throat. (Can a throat be chapped?) And it doesn’t have any caffeine.

Buy decaffeinated tea, you say? At 46rmb for a box of 25 tea bags, I say no. (46rmb is a little more than $7.50) I shall continue to drink my tea in the morning, and water at night.

I have also purchased a kettle for the English Office at the school.  It now has pride of place where the monitor of the defunct computer had previously been. We’re still trying to figure out the logistics of where the ½&½ might be stored, but we have decided that the winter would be long indeed without the sustaining influence of a cup of good tea in the middle of the day.

The decision to purchase a kettle was reached when I looked for a thermos at WuMart and found that one of suitable size and color was more expensive than a kettle, and three accompanying mugs. So now we have access to all sorts of heated beverages throughout the day, and will not have to be limited to whatever we fixed in the morning, and poured into the thermos.

Variety, that spice of life.

Hot chocolate has been mentioned as a Friday treat. As have biscuits (the English biscuit, not the southern kind. Although, I do have a hankerin’ for some buttered drop biscuits and raspberry jam).

In still further news, Tuesday was the second anniversary of none other than Super Husband and Wonder Wife.

We celebrated by going to a vegan restaurant we’d been recommended to. We were rather looking forward to the hummus. Three months without hummus is a long time. Too long.

Veggie Table is in a small hutong across the main road from the Lama Temple. It has comfortable purple couches, and nicely sized tables. The menu isn’t terribly extensive, but they have a variety of spreads and dips, a few soups, some sandwiches, and a couple pastas. We ordered the large hummus, and were pleasantly surprised at the size of the plate that came out. For 45rmb we received a dinner plate supporting a layer of hummus ½ an inch thick, all the way around. While I found it a tad dry if you weren’t careful to scoop up a drizzle of olive oil in each bite, it was definitely worth returning for.

Sadly, we didn’t feel the same way about the other two dishes.

Super Husband ordered the mushroom burger. It was good. Fine… but not worth the over 60rmb (60rmb = $10) that it cost…

Now remember, prices here are much lower for food. We consider a meal really, really expensive if it’s over 120rmb for the two of us, here. Whereas in Houston we wouldn’t scoff at spending the equivalent at least a couple times a week.

Back to Veggie Table

I ordered the sun dried tomato pasta, and was less than enchanted. The first couple of bites were great, but my ardor soon waned.

Veggie Table didn’t thrill us this time, but at the very least we now know where to get a good plate of hummus, even as late as midnight. And it’s only three subway stops away.

Today, in class, my kids made snowflakes.

I’m going to take credit for the genius of this idea, because it was my idea.

Our stupid, useless, worthless, horrible, no good, very bad curriculum doesn’t cover anything about winter, or any of the winter holidays, until the 26^th of December. Which is rather late, if you ask me.

I had to take things into my own hands.

These kids are going to learn Christmas carols, by jove.

And I have a whole 12 days of Christmas thing that I’m trying to flesh out and plan properly.

But today we made snowflakes. It’s actually a huge amount of fun.

The old adage about no two snowflakes being alike really comes to life when you’re hacking away at folded bits of paper and then unfurling them to see what you’ve created.

I was going to add in step-by-step photos on how to do it, but then I realized that I don’t have any scissors here in my apartment. I’ll take photos tomorrow at work and add them in later. So, if you want to make snowflakes, check back again later…
Okay, it's later now. And I decided that instead of putting those picture of the How-to here, I'm going to compile all of the cool crafty things I do with the kids from now on, and post pictures. So, if you look up at the top there, there's a link that's called Crafts for Kindergartens. There you will be dazzled by the lovely instructions for cutting a paper snowflake.
As a side note - I'm going to be decorating my apartment in these, to lend it some holiday cheer. I'm excited.

But here are some pictures of the awesome job that my kids did!

(And when I say “my kids” I mean my students… just in case that confuses anyone)

A Thanksgiving Abroad

Yesterday, as many of you are aware, was Thanksgiving in the U.S.of A.
As an observant and observant American I searched high and low to find the perfect Thanksgiving dinner. Something that would have not just the turkey that is so representative of the holiday, but the mashed potatoes, the stuffing, the gravy, the sweet potatoes...
Maybe the recipes wouldn't be as good as those passed through my family for generations, not as honed and time tested, but it would have to do.
Not having a proper oven, or the day off, really cramped my Thanksgiving style.
But what I found was pretty spectacular.

We celebrated in the shadow of The Great Wall of China. 

I'm kicking myself now for not taking a picture of all of the dishes, mostly because the sweet potato casserole was purple. 

Everything was delicious. 

We started off the evening at around 5 with wine and hors d'oeuvre.

The fried shrimp was served cold, which I found odd and unappetizing, but that was completely made up for by the herbed cranberry bread skewered with small pieces of wonderfully spiced pastrami. 

There were also lotus root chips, which I had not sampled before, but found extremely tasty. 

At 6 we were all ushered to our seats so that the main event could begin, and the main dishes brought forth.

Our table of six consisted of a couple visiting from Switzerland for the week who had booked a room at the hotel and new nothing of the American Thanksgiving celebration that awaited them, and a pair of young "ABC's" or American Born Chinese students originally from the greater Los Angeles area. And of course the esteemed Super Husband, and his lovely Wonder Wife.

Our first course was a very tasty cream of mushroom soup. I'm not overfond of mushrooms, but this was just the right way to do it. 

Quickly following that came a lightly dressed salad, by which I was neither impressed nor disapproving. 

Then the REAL meal began. 

Plates of white and dark meat appeared in the center of our table, along side a lovely gravy, and an even prettier cranberry sauce. 

Shortly thereafter the aforementioned purple sweet potato casserole arrived, accompanied by normal colored mashed potatoes.

The stuffing, or dressing, was really very tasty, but rather oddly shaped into squares. This is, perhaps normal to some, but I've never seen it such.

Some time after the beginning of the meal a broccoli and cheese béchamel dish was brought out. This is not a traditional dish in my family, and I was rather less than taken with it. I would have much preferred a green bean casserole, complete with the frenche's onions. But that is asking rather a lot.

After dinner we were informed that the desserts were buffet style, and we slowly made our way over there.

We were greeted with a plethora from which to choose. 

Hot apple brown betty, hawthorn custard, homemade ice cream in vanilla and chocolate, brownies, cookies, lemon ice box pie, and cream puffs.

Needless to say, I was in heaven.

I didn't, however, sample all of them. 

I contained myself to a tiny slice of ice box pie, the apple brown betty, and a single bite of chocolate ice cream.

All shared with Super Husband, mind you.

But most of all, the conversation was spectacular.

We discussed topics ranging from the pollution in Beijing (it reached a record for our time here of 387 on Thursday morning, but cleared up nicely due to high winds), to the crime statistics of Geneva, Switzerland.
And so very many things in between.

Two side notes here: 1) Our dinner is going to be broadcast on CCTV 4 at some point, as part of a special on The Schoolhouse at Mutianyu, which is where we were. I don't know if it'll be available for viewing anywhere else, or if it would even be worth looking in to, but I thought I'd mention it.

and
2) The Swiss couple is going to be in Texas in a few weeks and are looking for recommendations on where to go, what to see, and what to eat. I already gave them some recommendations, but if you have any "Must Sees" for the Houston, San Antonio, and Austin areas, or anything that lies along I-10 west, e-mail me so that I can pass the info along to them.


I mentioned in an earlier post that I was trying to get a traditional Thanksgiving meal for the kids. This never did happen. But we talked about turkey, and my classes colored Thanksgiving themed pictures, so at least they have a passing concept of what it means.

She can't have the liver

I would like to take a moment to announce that I am now the very, very proud owner of a brand spankin' new, red and white bicycle. 

And she is loverly. 

Complete with a black basket, and a lovely little back, rack-thing that's designed to have things strapped to it. 

I am in love. 

And, perhaps most importantly, my once thirty minute commute is now a trifling ten minutes. I now have time in the morning for a leisurely cup of coffee, instead of being reduced to it gulping down. 

I could, if whimsy struck me, stop off on the corner for a bit of friend breakfast bread. (Not that that's something that sounds particularly appealing to me, mind you) Or even, if I decided, stop off at 7/11 and procure some sushi. Which is something that my coworkers do weekly, but I've never had the time for; 7/11 being on the opposite side of a rather busy intersection. 

We have Super Husband to thank for this revelation in speed and beauty. 

As our second anniversary is nearing he decided (after much hint dropping, and a bit of outright telling him that I wanted a bike) to surprise me with my very own Giant. 

Isn't he just marvelous? 

Yes. Yes, he is. 

I have gotten many a compliment already, and I've only had it for four days. 

But on to other things... things like:

We decided, on Friday evening, to try a restaurant that we had walked past a few times, but never ventured into. They have chuan'r, and what looks like naan grilling to one side, and lovely golden wallpaper all around the restaurant.

The owners, and waitstaff, are not Chinese, but I'm not sure exactly where they're from. 

The menu sports mostly Chinese dishes, but with a slightly Middle Eastern twist. 

My assumption is that they're from Kazakhstan, because there is a large Kazakh population here in Beijing. 

So, we went in, and proceeded to scour the menu. We chose foods mostly at random, playing Chinese Roulette, and were pleasantly surprised. The cucumber remains one of my absolute favorites, in a slightly tangy sauce, it's really, very good. As was the meat and fried bread pieces in a basket. I thought when ordering that they were hunks of potatoes, but the seasoned bread was even better than any potato.

We did, however, heed the recommendation of the man grilling the chuan'r and order the lamb kidney. He pointed it out especially to Super Husband, and did a thumbs up. So we ordered it, along with a naan, and some other meaty selections.  

When our kebabs arrived the man put the kidneys on Super Husband's plate, and said, in no uncertain terms, although not in English or Chinese, that I was not to be allowed to partake of that particular choice meat. 

No skin off my back, as I wasn't exactly clamoring for the chance to eat kidney. But it was a little strange. I've done some research, but we're still not exactly sure if it was some slightly sexist insistence that the best piece of meat go to the man, or if there are some purported health risks associated with the consumption of kidney meat. Either way, Super Husband ate, and very much enjoyed the kidney on a stick. 

Yesterday, Sunday, we hopped on Line 10 and headed down to the Canadian International School for their Christmas Bazaar. 

I have to say, I was underwhelmed. Maybe I was spoiled by the bazaars we used to have in Jakarta, but this was, while well thought out, not worth the 10rmb required at the entrance. 

Sporting not even 50 booths and watery hot chocolate, well, I was disappointed.

We did however find the Bread of Life Bakery, 100% of whose profits go to charity, and purchase a pecan pie from them. 

We haven't sampled said pie yet, but it looks good. My only complaint would be a lack of sufficient pecans. But this is Beijing, after all, and as I hadn't seen a single pecan previous to the ones gracing this pie, well, beggars can't be choosers. 

And on that note, I'm going to beg off, and buy myself a coffee at the corner shop.

Happy Monday, all. 

A Treatise on Doppelgängers, and Other Things

Not long after arriving in Beijing Super Husband and I made the realization that everyone has an asian doppelgänger.
We've seen my sister, my sister as a small child, his father, his younger brother, and countless other friends and relatives.

We've rather made a game of it, actually.

On Sunday I saw a kid/guy that was the closest I've seen yet. I actually did a double take, thinking that somehow, unbeknownst to me, my cousin Ethan had made his way to subway line one.

I'm sure there are people that don't have a Chinese counterpart, of course. 

My father, what with his red beard, is probably going to be hard to match.

But I'll amuse myself for now by searching out the faces of my nearest and dearest. 

Speaking of my father, I'd like to take a moment to wish him, and my Tio Steve both a happy birthday.

And here, for your viewing pleasure, is a very Chinese Happy Birthday video.

It's getting colder here. Much, much colder.

My apartment is very warm, but as soon as you open the front door you're greeted by a blast of icy air. 

It's the wind, really, that makes it bad. Without the wind, the cold would be merely chilly. 

But then it whips around and spears you, like a thousand tiny icicles. 

At work I'm trying to get the head teacher to see the wisdom in giving the children a traditional Thanksgiving dinner.

We're supposed to be teaching them all about Thanksgiving, but they don't really need to know about Squanto. 

What does that leave? 

Mashed potatoes. 

Gravy, dressing, cornbread, turkey, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, and pecan pie. 

So far, it's not going that well... But I shall not give up.  

Singles' Day and Salons

China has become normal to us now, I think.

Or at least, for the most part.

I find myself saying "Oooh, China" and shaking my head a whole lot less. 

But then I found out about Singles' Day.

A day where single people are supposed to go out and mingle.

11/11

This year it's a Sunday, today, and that puts a damper on things, I'm sure.

I've also heard that, like Valentine's day, it is a highly commercialized effort to get people to buy romantic gobbledygook.

And anywho, I'm not single.

I finally visited a salon with a coworker of mine today. All my split ends, and styling woes have disappeared. 

I had taken a picture of an article in The Beijinger about what to say, and what to listen for, but thankfully my coworker took care of all the translation needs, and I am quite happy with my cut.

I'm doubly happy that I didn't have to stress about every pronunciation detail, perhaps saying that I wanted bangs, or layers, or a faux-hawk. 

I could not successfully rock a faux-hawk.

Super Husband's midterms are this week, so he is a stick in the mud. 

Buried under a pile of textbooks and notes, mumbling to himself like a crazy man in Chinglish.

Okay, that last bit might be tad exaggerated.

But he is studying hard, and I've been pinning things on Pinterest. 

Educational resources, of course... and... well, uhm, a bunch of yummy recipes, too. 

I really, really need to get a toaster oven. 

That way I could at least make myself a cookie.

Or some baked zucchini chips.

Or personal lasagna rolls.

I miss my kitchen.

And now it's time to hit the hay.

Study the backs of our eyelids, instead of textbooks. 

Election Season

This election season has been interesting.

I don't go in for the cutthroat antics that seems to be marking our political system more, and more. 

It seems worse from over here.

Facebook is littered with people calling each other idiots.

That may not be that new.

I'm just seeing it more, as Facebook seems my only connection with my 

"Real World"

Here in Beijing we're being affected by a changing of the guard.

You can't buy knives in major supermarkets.

Or ping pong balls.

China's google is incredibly slow.

Sometimes the system here confuses me. 

Sometimes it makes perfect sense.

But the big news is still the major election happening on the other side of the world. 

Big news for me, anyway.

China is going on around me, blissfully unaware. 

We're just all hoping that people make the right decision.

The problem is, we don't all agree on what that decision is.

Wool Coats and Steamed Buns

It SNOWED on Sunday.

Today, Monday, there is still snow on the ground.

And at the bottom of the slides on the playground.

It is easily the most snow either of us has ever seen in a place we live. 

We didn't make this snow man, but stumbled upon him outside a fast food restaurant

It may have snowed Sunday, but Saturday was punctuated by nothing more than rain, rain, rain. That didn't stop us from walking to the market, however.

I am now the proud owner of an electric hot water hand warmer. It's honestly the niftiest thing I've seen in a long time. They have them in all kinds of characters and designs. Some are very chic, with silk covers. Others, like mine, are like little warm stuffed animals. Mine features Doraemon, and has served me well in the 48 hours I've had him. 

A quick Amazon search shows that much less fashionable ones generally sell for $30, but I can assure you that I paid no where near that much for mine. 

Doraemon cost me a whopping 30rmb. 

I also bought an elephant humidifier, mostly because the steam blows out of his trunk, but also because I'm not used to these dry, cold environs. The cold I can't help that much, but the dry... well, my new elephant friend is diligently solving that problem for me. 

The heat came on, for the entirety of Beijing, at midnight on Saturday. 

Not that it's very helpful.

I'm going to spend part of my evening at WuMart, picking out a small space heater. 

Yay.

It's not cold at night, under the covers, but it'd be nice to be able to stick a toe out of bed in the morning without it immediately turning blue.

Or perhaps sit on my couch, in the living room, without taking the duvet with me.

Sunday, in addition to frolicking in the snow, we ventured over to the Wudaoko clothing market and truly outfitted ourselves for a Beijing winter.

There are a few things we still need.

Gloves are still a priority.

But now Super Husband and I each have a new hat and two new scarfs. 

Super Husband also picked up a new pair of shoes.

And I am the proud new owner of a lovely black wool coat.

In addition to the aforementioned gloves I still need a new pair of boots. 

And another hat.

And more scarfs.

Maybe I'm going a little overboard, but I've never lived in a place where you need to bundle up for the majority of the months with "R" in them. 

I'm relishing the need to buy scarfs and boots.

I imagine that it's due to the inclement weather, but the chuan'r men have been absent since Friday evening.

This greatly disappoints me, as chuan'r is a large part of my weekend sustenance. 

In lue of chuan'r we hied ourselves over to a delightful little restaurant that sells the best baozi I've ever tried. 

Baozi, if I've not explained it before, are the tiny steamed buns, filled with delicious. 

I am determined to take some of the lovely bamboo steamers back to Texas with me...

Now I want some boazi... and chuan'r... 

Maybe I can have some chuan'r tonight, if the men have returned to their posts...

And on that note, I sign off.

Taata