Niu Nai: China's Milk "Udderly" Foreign

While my Singaporean friend, Su, was studying abroad in Canada a few years ago she posted a Facebook update that caught my attention. She had posited the question 2% milk is two percent what exactly? At this point I was back in the U.S. after spending a semester in Singapore, where I had mostly stopped drinking milk. Being new to foreign countries, particularly those of Asia, I just couldn't see how milk could come in a box and, moreover, not be kept in the refrigerator. But I had gotten used to it, so with my newfound knowledge of our cultural differences, I commented on Su's post, explaining how whole milk, 2%, 1%, and skim milk are different from each other. To my surprise, she was pretty thankful for the information.

I want to tell you that story so that what I'm about to do makes sense. Below are pictures of how milk is sold in China. Strange, you might think. Yes, but not if you compare it to your dairy section at home. This is how milk is typically sold all over Asia, and since I've been here for a while, I suppose that's why it took me so long to write about it. Usually it is sold in individual packets. Some packages are thick-skinned, while others don a thin plastic cover. There are also boxes with straws. Very rarely you can find a 1 liter box, and those are often imported from Europe. A couple of brands sell skim or low-fat kinds, but again, mostly it's all the same. With all the choices and the sheer amount of individual packets, milk sections in China run on for half the store. NOT kidding. So get prepared to be "milked dry" for the day after seeing these!

 

 

 

The refrigerated milk section

 

 

"Pure" Milk (thin plastic package)

 

 

Nut flavors (from left to right): walnut, black sesame, red bean (thick-skinned package)

 

 

DA3's and other foreign students' preferred brand, also named "Pure" Milk. I have no idea what makes this 'pure' so different from the above's 'pure.'

 

 

The boxed stuff. One of the few national brands that makes 1 liter boxes.

 

 

Non-refrigerated 12 box pack. Perfect for 3 person families!

 

 

Look! Free yogurt attached!

 

 

Chocolate milk and what's that? Papaya milk!? It's only 45.60 RMB, less than $10. Actually I have no idea if that's cheap for a 12 box pack.

 

The flavor is different than in North America, too. I wish I could share that through a picture. It's thicker and, maybe because it's not usually cold, seems more flavorful. Or maybe I've just been living in Asia or too long. There are also a large array of fruit-milk mixtures. I really can't say which is healthier, though--boxed, warm milk or refrigerated gallons? Which would you guess?

Run in the Park

This morning I take a jog in the local Nanhu Park (South Lake Park). Parks in the China are not only places of fresh air and beautiful scenery, but are also where the whole community gathers at any given time to practice hobbies and to play. At all times of the day (and today being Sunday there are even more), throngs of people come to Nanhu to sing, dance, "camp," take pictures, have picnics, play their instruments, practice Taiji (Tai chi), walk, run, exercise, and hang out with friends. This morning is no exception. I particulary enjoy the choir, the videos of which I'll post on the Facebook page for the blog.

 

 

 

 

The clarinet, my old friend, and its ol' man.

 

 

Trombone and tripod. Get ready to jam!

 

 

Harmony ensues

 

 

Love me some alto sax!

 

 

Now the ensemble comes together, but wait--Where's Mr. Guitar?

 

 

Meanwhile, I continue my run. No sooner do I get off the paved path, then I come across a group of Lao TaiTai's doing Taiji in a grove of trees. I don't want to bother them too much, but I do manage to snap a couple of pictures. Then I'm off again through the trees myself.

 

 

 

 

 

I continue my run around the lake itself. I don't stop for pictures, because, well, I've got a great stride going. The sun bounces off the lake like a ping pong ball. Mothers make their sons pose for pictures next to the lake. Old men sit on stools flying kites so high they try to play with the clouds. Pink lotus shade themselves under cattails. My heart races, and not just because of the run.  



America "Gun" Wrong

My mom is an art teacher and this is the first year that teachers at her school have been required to complete training exercises in preparation for a school shooting. The school district where I grew up started similar training when I was in junior high, not long after Columbine. Along with regular fire drills, we had to practice how to fortify our classrooms against the possibility of one of our own wreaking havoc out of the seeming blue. I, for one, took it very seriously as I had encountered a classmate with a gun once (to this day I don't know if it was real or fake, but not being one of those colorful water guns, I didn't waste any time in telling my teacher). 

Then I went abroad. In whichever country I happen to be in, no matter how developed or (usually) underdeveloped it is, one of the first questions I get is whether it's true that everyone in the U.S. owns a gun. If it's not that question, it's whether or not it's true that people can walk around in public with a gun. I know how we Americans would like to answer these questions. It would be very grand to respond with a vigorous, "No!" While you can't judge the whole situation based on the regular reports of shootings that make it to the front page, we can't ignore the true answer to these questions. The answer is "yes," I'm sad to report. Yes, people can carry a gun in public places. Although restrictions apply depending on where you intend to carry the firearm or whether or not it's loaded, it remains true that only 6 states and the District of Columbia forbid carrying firearms at all. Furthermore, the law is not the same in all states. Of course, not everyone owns a gun. But according to some statistics 1 in 4 people do. Huffington Post's graphic on the topic points out an interesting comparison. While China doesn't even have 10 guns per 100 people, the U.S. reports 88.8 guns per 100 people. So the answer is yes. The ridiculousness that makes these shootings even more likely to happen does exist and on a significant scale. 

Besides being asked such questions while I'm abroad, what does the gun topic matter to me? I come from a tiny town of fewer than 200 people. My dad grew up there, as did his dad before him and his dad before him. In fact, ask any Chinese person and it's likely that they have just such a family village. It's very rare in such small towns for violence in the form of terrorism to occur. Yet it's been happening right across the street from my family. They, themselves, have received threats. All from a low-class, uneducated, possibly drug-induced man who also happens to own a few guns, one of which he brazenly carries in a holster attached to his hip. There is no 'why' or reason to his active disturbance of the peace. According to this person's brand of "freedom," he's allowed to do whatever he wants. Now that includes toting a gun across the street--police presence aside--to "talk." 

Last year I lived across the hall from two Sierra Leone guys who had both grown up during their country's recent war. One of them had hidden with his family in the bush for the better part of a year. As I mentioned in a former post, one of Tunisia's politicians was assassinated and DA3 was horrified, partly because that was only the second time that has ever happened in his country. My South Korean friends are more concerned about a possible attack from their northern counterparts than a gunman in their classroom (the feeling is probably mutual in North Korea) and, honestly, it's a very slight worry at that. The last time my Vietnamese friend went home, his mother was robbed while on her motorcycle (a risk in itself in Hanoi). From petty theft to nuclear warheads, there are things that will break up the monotony of our daily lives whether we ask for them or not. So my question is: why does stupidity need to be one of them? 

 

The way I see it, my Sierra Leone friends are halfway across the world from their homes and working to get an education in order to go back and help turn the country around. I cannot imagine either one of them wielding a gun against his neighbor. DA3 could not fathom why a person would feel the need to kill a stranger, but to pull a gun on your neighbor would seem to him even more absurd and cruel. I'm sure that half the reason keeping North and South Korea from going back to war is simply blood relations. Unless the government explicitly demands it, I don't believe that either party would go against their own ethnicity like that. So how is it that America is getting so off-track? As education takes more and more of a back seat, people are forgetting how to build life instead of destroy it. For whatever reason, people are not learning that to cherish and practice one's own freedom means the active protection of another's freedom, too. Such self-centered recklessness is literally happening in my front yard. 

Guest Post: Jin Shizhen on Life After China

Today I am very pleased to announce that Day-to-Day China is embarking on a new tradition: guest posts! My first honored guest is a very dear friend of mine. Her name is Kim Sejin (although she gave me the privilege of bestowing her with the English name Samantha). In Chinese she goes by Jin Shizhen. She and I were classmates during my first year in Changchun, when we both studied Chinese and before I started my Master's program. In January of this year Shizhen returned home to Korea to finish her Bachelor's degree after having spent two years in China studying the language. Now she's all graduated and doing some part-time work before heading out again, this time to the English-speaking world! I've asked her to write in Chinese for today, but perhaps when she comes back I'll get her back for an English Round 2. Please welcome Jin Shizhen!

 

Jin Shizhen and I at last year's Christmas party

 

 

Note: The following is written in Chinese, so it's possible that some computers may not be able to read it. Instead of characters or words, what you might see are a lot of little boxes side by side. Don't worry, your computer doesn't have a virus, your eyes are still as close to 20/20 as nature allowed, and, most importantly, your network speed is fine!

真真回韩国以后的生活

你们好！我是李海兰的朋友真真。真真就是我的小名，因为很多西方国家的朋友们觉得我们亚洲人的中文名字很难记，所以有些朋友们叫我真真。我的名字就是金世真。我是从 2011年2 月到2013年 1月在中国吉林省长春市留学。

 

我在中国留学的时间不是很短也不是很长的时间。那段时间内我碰到了好多国家的人，特别是中国人。我在中国觉得虽然中国还没发达了，但在很快得发达。我回韩国来以后也感觉到了，韩国也不是发达的国家。我去北京旅游的时候期待了很多，因为北京是中国的首都，所以肯定会比长春好很多。结果我看到的北京也是一个中国的城市。北京的建筑很好看，不过人们的文化意识还没达到了发达国家的程度。我回韩国来后感觉到的韩国也不是个发达的国家，虽然看起来韩国很干净也很炫耀，但仔细的看就能知道韩国也是一个在努力发达的国家。

    

我在中国认识的中国朋友不是那么多，我的好朋友都是外国人。可能我跟中国学生接触的机会没有那么多，所以我没有很多的中国朋友，但我跟中国人不太亲密的最大原因不是那个。我在上边也写了中国人的文化意识没有那么高。我觉得一看那个人遵守不遵守时间就能知道那个人的文化水平。我到现在碰到的百分之 80的中国朋友都不遵守时间，他们迟到后也没有什么觉得不好意思，有可能他们还不知道怎么表现才好。可是我认识的人都是 20岁以上的成人，不知道怎么表现出不好意思或者感谢的感情的是不像话的。我来韩国以后也见过几个在韩国留学的朋友，他们有的跟韩国人生活便很遵守时间，担忧的完全不是这样。以后我不要跟他们继续交流了。

 

我在中国留学的两年的时间内醉倒的变化就是我的中文水平。虽然我回国以后自己觉得我的中文慢慢退步，但你看，我现在用中文写文章嘛！哈哈 我要使用我的努力学习的中文，因此我现在在韩国仁川机场的免税店打工。因为我在准备去国外留学，所以我要赚钱。我想了又想我要趁着这一个机会能过使用中文的地方打工，结果我在机场的免税店打工。我在这儿打工每天碰到世界各个国家的人。其中最多的就是中国人。我工作的时候就能知道世界各个国家人的特点，我自己觉得很有意思。我来讲一讲。

 

首先，日本人。日本人很安静，但有时候我觉得他们 “看起来” 很安静也很温柔，他们脑子里在想什么呀？我在免税店碰到的大部分的日本人超级安静，也不喜欢麻烦别人。有一次我感觉到了，现在这一个日本顾客对某一个方面不太满意，但不说。我一看他的表情就感觉到了，就觉得很可怕。他们 “看起来” 很温柔，但有不满意的地方也不说，也控制不了自己的表情，好可怕呀。

 

第二，新加坡人。我碰到的新加坡人比较随便花钱。（这是我自己的想法，希望不要误会）可能新加坡人觉得我们韩国的物价低买什么也买得起。但我看来新加坡人买东西的时候不太慎重。

 

第三，很多西方国家的人。我不是写哪国人，而是写很多西方国家的人的原因就是我不知道每个人的国籍（他们大部分都用英语），还有他们是白人还是黑人。没办法，只能这样写。反正，很多西方人很善良，很爱表现出感谢或者不好意思的感情。这是跟着短的话题没有关系的，但我要说一说。我知道有的西方人对陌生人也喜欢打个招呼，也叫陌生人很亲密的称呼。上次一个很有名的美国航空公司的空姐来买东西。（我不要告诉你那个公司的名字，哈哈）她第一次叫我的称呼是 “honey," 第二个称呼是 “baby,” 第三个是 “sweet heart,” 剩下的记不住。我记得她用五六个称呼叫了我。那个情况很有意思了。

 

最后，中国人。中国人很喜欢提问题，跟日本人非常相反。日本人觉得问太多问题会麻烦我，但中国人不管我在跟别的顾客说话，也不管帮别的顾客结账，还问很多问题。中国人很吵。可能是语言的问题，汉语有四个声调，说话的时候都要说出那些声调。我以前以为中文没办法说的时候这么吵，但我在中国也碰到了很多说话说得很安静的人，在工作的时候也碰到了几个一听她说话就觉得他很有文化那样的人。以后才知道了中文也可以用小声说话。

 

我知道我写的内容中比较多的是中国人的缺点。我是喜欢中文，因此我自己愿意去中国留过学的人。所以这是我不是讨厌中国什么的，就是我自己感觉到的中国的真实。希望你们不要骂我。到此为止，谢谢。

P.S. 海兰，我很想你！人家爱你 : )

Eid Mubarak

 

This post is a couple of days late, but this is how DA3 and I celebrated Eid al-Fitr, the holiday that marks the end of Ramadan. We went to Changchun's mosque to take part in their annual festivities. It was my first time to this mosque, so I was pretty intrigued. I like how mosques in China have both Chinese and Islamic architectural and design elements. There is a mosque in Xi'an that I visited a few years ago that had a very similar structure. We watched some of the performances, including a man who decided to run up on stage, steal the microphone from the MC, and proceed to denounce the government for something. It all happened so fast that I didn't catch what he said. But I didn't miss him getting carted away by the police! That's not going to go well. After the performances, we made the rounds between food stalls. There were a lot of Halal meats and some sweet treats. We bought some beef sausage, moon cakes, and some nut-fruit bark. Eid Mubarak!

 

 

 

 

The gate to the mosque. The sign in the back reads "Celebrate Eid al-Fitr" in Chinese.

 

 

The main prayer room of the mosque

 

 

A fashion show of wedding attire for Chinese Muslims

 

 

Nut-fruit bark. Really tasty, but kind of expensive!

 

 

BBQ "Chuan" dudes

 

 

“欢度斋节”

Readjustment, Ramadan, and Release

The cervical vertebra in my neck is in the process of being readjusted. So is my life. The thing is, it's really painful. 

 

The discs in trouble are flat where they're supposed to be round. Consequently, they've herniated and begun to pinch the nearby nerves. The pain has radiated down the whole of my right shoulder down into the arm and elbow, even at times to the fingertips. I can barely turn my neck. I feel the bite in every step. Lying, sitting, or standing I feel constricted in my movements and experience a constant pulse of pain. Sometimes I can sense my posture correcting itself, as the pain is too much to slouch. The worst part is waking up from sleep. I often want to turn over but I cannot turn without my shoulder sending me its signal of disagreement. 

 

My doctor (or rather, his wife) tells me that it must be my body readjusting itself to its natural position. It's so used to the old, wrong ways that it can't handle going back to how it's supposed to be. What's compounding the feeling of helplessness and constriction, I'm sure, is that the same thing is going on spiritually and emotionally. My life in the last year has not been ideal. Many choices were made that did not need to be made, and the few that were necessary left their share of scars, too. In the meantime I oscillate between the two emotional paradigms of guilt and defiant resolution. Again and again, the choice has been to either push away progress, which has the tendency to bring it crashing down upon you like a monster in a bad dream, or to jump into it, the effect often being that your energy is more wisely and efficiently spent.

 

In April I met my friend DA3 (pronounced Daa). Like I reported in another post, he is from Tunisia, which means that he is Muslim. While he's not particularly devout, his brand of faith is simple and straightforward. Spirituality is about you and God. Religion is a means to an end, but it's also a cultural and human construction on many levels. I add that there are divine, useful, practical, and spiritually significant principles and that's where the month of Ramadan enters the picture. Fasting is one of those principles that major religions all over the world emphasize. The idea is to let go of what you think you depend on, learn to lean on God, learn that those things we consider "basic" desires are actually not as basic as the calm and peace that one needs in order to live a balanced and free life. This peace doesn't come from routine or food or sex or money or anything that our simple physical bodies can provide us. It comes from our spiritual core, which is connected inherently to our Creator.

 

This idea is the same in all the big religions. It's what DA3 believes and it's what I believe. After meeting DA3, I concluded that this year I would fast during Ramadan with him. It looked like just the kind of opportunity I needed at this point in my life, so on July 9 I joined him in his preparations. For a month we made sure to prepare Iftar (breaking the fast) together. We made healthy, really delicious food. I, personally, tried to make a conscious effort to eat in moderation, reminding myself that there was no need to binge, that I would not starve during a fourteen-hour period of fasting every day. At first I wanted to exercise at night, do yoga, and follow all the other great tips for a healthy Ramadan that I read on various Muslim women's blogs. 

 

Then my neck just gave out on me. I couldn't move and was in constant pain in any position. Pain does something to your brain. It brings out negativity. It reminds you of all the reasons you have to hate life. It tells you constantly that you make bad choices, that you aren't a good person, that everything that's wrong in your world is your fault. To put it simply, it stomps you to the ground. I already couldn't move my body in a normal way. Suddenly, I also couldn't escape the emotional pain still present either. All of my escape tactics were useless once I found myself attached to an IV four hours a day for three weeks. With only my thoughts for company, the resulting potion turned into inner commotion. I would cry. The nurses would ask, "Does it hurt?" What could I say? "YES! It all hurts! I can't find a place that doesn't hurt!"  

 

Keep in mind that all this is happening and I'm fasting. The doctor said it wasn't a good idea. Perhaps not, but I had already committed myself to it. More than wanting to eat to make the pain stop, I wanted God to see that I could do something for Him. Yet there in my hospital bed, I couldn't figure out why nothing seemed right. All of the anger, pain, and fear that I was experiencing just wouldn't leave, no matter how calm I tried to make my mind. I prayed and prayed. I prayed for help, for forgiveness, for answers, for calm, for my neck, for the pain to go away. I prayed and prayed until one day I couldn't take it anymore. "I give it to Thee," I said. "I can't handle it. I'm giving it to Thee." Specifically, I gave "it" to Christ. When I did that, and each time I did--do--that, I feel released. It feels like coming off of the Gravitron or a roller coaster. You can walk again. You just look around and continue walking, aware of the rush and its accompanying hormones, but not unconsciously affected by them.
 

The last day of Ramadan was yesterday. DA3 and I ate our last Iftar together. We each blessed the food in our own language and in our own way. This month has shown me just how special of a person he is and I think it's been the same for him. My neck is slowly improving. I don't have to be hooked up to an IV every day anymore. Readjustment, of either the body or the mind, is not a quick or easy process, I'm discovering. I'm understand that if this neck pain is the pain I have to experience in order to recorrect my spine, the core of my being, then I should welcome it. I ought to be its nurse and caretaker, keeping the faith and the hope that at some point it will be released. The same goes for any and all kinds of feelings I let myself get carried away by. 

 

Lastly, while I had fasted before, I had never done it for a number of days consecutively. To do it in this way has taught me that all those memories, physical ailments, and emotions that we imagine are critical to our being can be let go of. A person can start anew. It can all be released if we just give it away.

Two Firsts

After living in China for a few years, my to-do list is getting more difficult to check off. The easy stuff is done, but there are still a lot of bigger items that I have yet to accomplish. To name a few from my list: Someday I'd like to visit Tibet and China's western provinces. I've never driven a car in China (or abroad in general--not that China's the best place to start, I suppose).  I've always wanted to go camping in some remote Chinese mountain, or perhaps on the Great Wall. I've also never attended a Chinese wedding.

That last one, actually, seems to be one I will have to check off part by part. Just recently I attended my good friend's Beijing wedding banquet. They had had the ceremony itself in the groom's home province in the south. In Beijing they organized a banquet for the bride's family and friends. Fittingly, all us northerners were invited to a well-known Peking Duck restaurant for a very delicious dinner in honor of the newlyweds. After wedding banquet--I can check that one off!

Then I got hired for this performing job. They asked me to sing a couple of English songs at a wedding. I've been trying to get my foot in the door on this front for a while now and this wedding was my first gig.

We arrive early in the morning to a country-club-like location outside Changchun. A young Russian guy and I are both set to sing three songs. We chat on the way to the wedding hall and both decide that we've seen each other before. At the wedding hall we wait for about thirty minutes as they prepare to start the ceremony. 

This place is where couples go to order a "pre-fabricated" wedding. There are "sets" that they can choose from, including the color scheme, photography, decorations, mood, and more. Surprisingly, I find it all mostly tasteful. A set costs about 30,000 RMB or about 5,000 USD. This is on the lower end. The most expensive at this particular place runs at 150,000 RMB. Of course, the sets don't include the banquet afterward or all the alcohol and cigarettes that are a must at Chinese weddings. With everything included, I'm sure that today's couple spent close to 50,000 RMB.

The wedding begins with the MC welcoming everyone and then introducing the two foreigners who will perform. I'm up! I stand under the arch at the end of the flower-strewn walkway. I sing Norah Jones' Don't Know Why (I know, not a typical wedding song in English speaking countries). My second song was supposed to be Celine Dion's A New Day has Come, but they skipped over it and went straight to my third choice, a Chinese song called 我的歌声里, In My Song. My mistake was deciding on that song last minute and learning the lyrics the night before. Shameful to say, I mumble and hum through forty percent. Luckily, I'm able to make up for it with the strong, easy chorus parts. The Russian guy sings his songs, and just as quickly as it all began, we're finished and each 500 yuan richer. My two firsts might not have been ultimate successes, but here's hoping for second chances!