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Waking up this morning, I noticed sunshine and quickly threw open the curtain: my daily “sky inspection.” Usually, I am quite disappointed to see hazy grey nothingness. Today, I saw blue. This was actually a bit darker blue than the faint light blue that fades into white, the kind where you are not quite sure if you are seeing blue or if your eyes are deceiving you. I didn’t see a cloud in the sky; the low-riding combination of haze/smog was of course still apparent. But it was definitely blue.

About 2:30pm, I was just getting ready to take a walk to our potenially new neighborhood when I noticed the light from outside getting dimmer. All of sudden, black clouds approached and there was a downpour which I have only experienced once before (this past weekend – was also indoors, thank god). Umbrellas, ponchos – it’s all no use. I saw the construction workers from the rooftop next door scrambling for their tools and running to shelter.

Life outdoors comes to a halt. At least that’s what I thought until I noticed the unthwarted Chinese still pedalling away on their bicycles. Until I lived here, I never actually wanted it to rain. In fact, the weather in Austria would often be so uncooperative that you were compelled have to spend a nice sunny day outdoors. Here, I find myself having to stay indoors when the sun shines (met a friend in a museum yesterday, because anything outside was unthinkable). Too hot. And now the humidity makes high temperatures reach unbearable limits. It’s here, the rainy season.

When the water comes, it washes away and dirt, not only in the streets but in the air. It washes away the humid air and replaces it with something much easier to breathe.

So, rains of the infamously suffocating summer months of July and August, you are here and you are welcome, just as long as you let those blue skies through every once in while.

Well, not quite. Actually, I’m not sure. I was hearing many Chinese street names and seeing a psychedelic collage of the probably 50 apartments I have viewed over the past several weeks: dark brown wood, Chinese landlords, views of skyscrapers hovering in the hazy sky. When heading out the door to yet another viewing this morning, I gave myself a pep talk: if nothing else, this is a good way to see another part of the city, learn about the neighborhoods, be around other human beings. The bright side: at this stage in the game, nothing is a waste of time. Every experience is a learning experience.

While at the supermarket with my young realtor friend Yeye today, I realized that I do have so much to learn. Why can’t we just skip the part where I am the ignorant foreigner blundering her way around Chinese culture and people and get to the good part: the Burcu – I mean Baoze – who can haggle with the grocer or who knows her way around a Chinese supermarket or who can understand when she has just made someone lose face, “guanxi.”  At least, I can be proud that I caught myself before asking why there are no dish towels to be found anywhere (Chinese dry their dishes in these dish-dryer-disintectant-machines that look like stoves from the outside). And these kind of enlightenings do go both ways. As yoghurt-type products are our main source of calcium these days, I was making my choices, when Yeye pointed at a Chinese character and said “acid milk.” The more products I chose, the more he repeated “acid milk.” The acid must have become too much for him, because at one point, he said that this is enough now and that I should maybe not buy so much acid milk. I replied by saying that in English, we do not call it milk – we call it yoghurt. His eyes became so big. A whole new concept.

So after two weekends of travelling and exploring, our third weekend was almost entirely dedicated to apartment hunting. Two highlights: we had Sunday brunch with a group of jet-set cosmopolitans. My connection to Jennifer, the organizer, is so complicated that I don’t even know anymore how I know her. Anyway, she is a “Chinese returnee” – left China in 1991 to study and work in the US, and returned 2 1/2 years ago to get “a piece of the action.” She and another very successful Chinese woman working at CNBC, told me that, even with their qualifications and the surplus of jobs, competition in China is tough. What? It’s not enough to speak absolutely perfect English and Chinese, have a Harvard Business degree, years of work experience for a major US firm, be pretty, smart and eloquent? It had me wondering what kind of jobs they were seeking. On the other (male) end of the table, Patrick was an innocent bystander in an exchange about investing in property, stocks, bonds, etc in China and where the best ROI is, that went completely over his head. OK, we are obviously Expat Freshmen.

The second highlight was the Shanghai International Film Festival. I was determined to view a Turkish film from one director I much respect. And because an hour of probing did not result in an answer to our question about the language of the subtitles, I went alone. Just after I heard the Chinese women at brunch saying they don’t like “dark” movies (they hated Perfume) and have gone for years watching only comodies, I was curious about the effect this very dark, almost black, psychodrama, would have on the 99,9% Chinese audience. My curiousity did eat away at me when a) even if they were disgusted, they did not show it, and b) I did not understand their “post-flick” chit chat.

And so another week came to a close. I don’t know how time flies here, it just does. It was just last weekend that our friends from Chicago, Brian and Jeanie, were visiting (and for those of you who were wondering, they had planned their trip to China before knowing that we were going to move to Shanghai, so the timing was a wonderful coincidence). If anyone is planning a trip over here, I will send you their itinerary. They are now probably heading back and have interesting things to share. If you have viewed our photos on this site, you will have seen the amazing images from our trip to “Venice of the East” canal town Zhouzhuang (45 min drive with Jing), which was 100% inspired by the B&J team. We are thankful to have adventurous friends like them!

Suzhou is 100km west of Shanghai in the Jiangsu province. Approx. 40 minutes with the train from the Main Train Station. Ticket costs Y25 = €2,5, a little over $3. Trains leave every half hour, but most get sold out, as the train continues to other parts of the country. Jing, our new driver (communication complications with the first one, Yao, were not as problematic as his driving which had Patrick arriving at his destinations, his face a strange green hue) arranged for my ticket to Suzhou. There weren’t any seats left on the train Brian and Jeanie were taking, but I decided to brave it anyway as a throw-back to the days of sitting on my backpack in the smoky, sweat-filled corridors of continental Euro-Cities and the like. Only this time, it wasn’t smoky, the bathrooms smelled of flowers, and the AC had everyone feeling very cool and content.

By the time we exited the train, we had devised a plan: Jeanie and Brian would go check into their hotel at the southwest end of the city, and I would go buy my return ticket and visit the Silk Museum in the meantime. I chuckled when I saw the line for the taxi until Brian wisely hinted that the ticket line may be just as long, if not longer. Lines, no, masses of people wanting the same thing, are part of everyday life here. Queuing, however, remains a phenomenon to most. I unfortunately managed to pick the only line-like formation that merged into another, so it took very long until I was basically pushed to the counter by a nice Chinese guy uttering the words “follow my girlfriend.” Minutes before, I had asked the girlfriend in my broken Chinese if this was the right line to buy a ticket to Shanghai. “3pm” was the only part of her reply I understood, but as she didn’t react further, I assumed the next available train was at 3pm. Before the Chinese couple informed me that there weren’t any tickets left for the trains between 3-8pm, I was practicing saying “is there an evening train to Shanghai” over and over, my finger still propping that page of my dictionary. The boyfriend already had one ticket for the 7pm train, so I bought 2 tickets for the 8pm and we swapped (they of course paid me for the extra ticket). I could return to Shanghai earlier and they could travel together. Everyone was happy.

Now about Suzhou itself, my trusted Lonely Planet had warned me that it is not impressive on arrival, so I should have been prepared. However, by deciding to walk to the museum (what looked like a short distance on the map), I had to take multiple detours through dusty construction sites and areas smelling of rotting garbage. Suzhou, population 1,170,000, is MUCH larger than I thought. It is most famous for its plethora of gardens and for its silk industry, which dates back to the Song dynasty (960–1279).

I was the only visitor in the silk museum – either I once again beat the swarm of tourist groups or it is highly unpopular. I was impressed only by the the silk worms (live) and their cocoons, and the many historical costumes that were on display. There was also a room with the traditional silk weaving instruments, however the women had just started threading, so the mechanics were left to my very non-technical imagination.

From there, I crossed the street to our meeting point: the tea house at the North Temple. Little did I know that the tea house was in an obscure location and would never be found by Brian and Jeanie. As I was waiting there, however, I befriended a Chinese girl named Victoria, or Lin Qiao. She was Shanghainese and had just moved to Suzhou to teach English at a language school. Qiao, meaning something close to “brav” in German (good and studious in English), accompanied us for the rest of the day, helping us understand signs, take the bus, order our lunch, and have a great time.

After waiting for each other at different spots, I finally reunited with Jeanie and Brian – and the garden portion of our trip began. We visited three gardens in total, all completely different from each other (see photo gallery). It is said that Suzhou once had over 100 private and public gardens – only several of which have been preserved and restored. Unlike in the West, landscaping here is about representing nature in its asymmetrical beauty. Flowers, rocks, water, pavilions, ornaments are all used in a way that goes beyond architecture, it reflects Taoist philosophy and hence Chinese culture. See, for example, the sun and moon that were decoratively placed in the oasis-like Panren Scenic Area. Or the Lotus flower which  in Buddhism represents “purity of body, speech, and mind, floating above the muddy waters of attachment and desire.”

Those interested in my cross-cultural remarks, here is something for you. Jeanie and I kept taking pictures of flowers, windows, rocks, in short – inanimate objects. Often we would wait for humans to leave the scene before taking the shot. Poor Qiao kept asking me if I wanted to get in the picture. It wasn’t clear to her why we would take pictures of things without a human posing with it. On a side note, if you have noticed Chinese posing with what we know as the peace sign “V,” it means “victory” here. You use it to show you are happy.

My feet aching (Jeanie diagnosed tendonitis – I read all about it today – Selmin, if you are reading this, you were right about the ice), I took train, metro and taxi to return home at about 8:30pm. I feel I have now mastered short-distance train travel in China. Metro is easy peasy (next time, I have to finally get one of those neat debit cards that you can also use to pay in taxis). And taxis are also no major problem anymore (sometimes finding one is). I at least know my neighborhood well. And people are generally so helpful if you are trying. I’m going to go with that principle and venture bus travel as well – find this experience very soon on a blog near you.

Confucius says “Everything has its beauty but not everyone sees it.”

There are a lot of things that can be said about this city and about life here, but let me point out some of the beautiful aspects I have noticed so far (I guess this will have to be a list-in-progress):

  • A very efficient governmental system in handling bureaucratic Angelegenheiten (ok, I give up – I can’t think of the appropriate English word). Armed with all kind of paperwork his company prepared for him, Patrick would have had his alien work permit application completed in 10 minutes flat- and that from the time we walked into the modern glass building to when he actually had it in his hands – if it weren’t for one missing signature that we had to get faxed. The permanent visa line was a bit longer (about 2 hours), but again, totally efficient with digital screens displaying numbers and a system that seems be understood by every countryman and woman.
  • The selection of electronics. Last night we went out to buy speakers for the PC and ink for the printer. The electronic super-mega-jumbo-stores with 8+ floors and aisles of everything you can imagine are located on a 5-lane intersection which can only be crossed if you have supernatural powers or can understand the matrix of underground walkways packed with swarms of people in transit. OK, so back to beauty: this area is not far from our current apartment and one really can find everything there for very reasonable prices. Trying to find these ink cartridges in Vienna was sometimes like a scavenger hunt. Not here.
  • The variety of fruits and vegetables at the grocers. My favorite breakfast without bread (had to give it up, because we can’t find anything close to what we ate in Austria) is now oatmeal – this import from Australia doesn’t have to travel as long as the Müsli from Germany, thus making it less expensive- with sliced mangoes. I think I will add some walnuts next time. And the veggies – well, if you love vegetables as much as I do, you probably know a few. Here, I don’t know most. In fact, I looked up Chinese cooking lessons on the web yesterday. I think with a lesson or two, I will at least understand what I am buying – and maybe even be able to cook something (those who have been witness to my cooking mishaps, please don’t laugh).
  • Bamboo. Did you know that bamboo is a kind of grass and not a tree? I learned that during out trip to Bamboo Town, Anji. And bamboo is not only beautiful to look at, it is used for so many other things here. For example, construction (see picture) scaffolding. Img_2949_2
  • Also, I tried two different kinds of cooked bamboo – one was almost black in color and very salty, and the other light green and very tasty.
  • OK, this is a beauty that not everyone will see. The Chinese are very dainty people – slim and also relatively small. I am grossly generalizing a population of one and half billion so please excuse me, but my feeling is that I am not among the smallest anymore. Actually, I am tall. So my friends, those of you who were wondering: what is little Burcu doing in big Shanghai? Well, she’s not that little here!
  • 90-minute massages at 11:30pm for 17 Euros. ‘Nuf said.
  • Public toilets conveniently placed all over the city. Unlike those in rural China – which can be slightly frightening (even shocking) for the Westerner and even those used to conditions further East such as Turkey- the restrooms in the city are clean and provide individual stalls just for a few pennies. Sorry to get into the details, but someone reading may also be able to appreciate being able to drink as much water and not worry about finding a restroom.

Chinese get English ones, English ones get Chinese ones, what do Turkish ones get? Changing countries and languages so often hasn’t been easy on my name. Poor thing, suffered so much over the years. During our time in Europe, we actually had a period of mild recovery – after only one or two repetitions, the Austrians had mastered it – only sometimes did it become “burCHu” instead of the rolled-back-of-the-tongue (almost silent) “r” and “j” combination. But we could live with that.

Name_3Sensing the high risk of again being badly bruised and mutilated here in China, I decided this time to spare it the humiliation. So “Burcu” is going into hiding. Please don’t think of it as an affront to Burcu, as I really only have its best interest in mind. In its place, please welcome the tried-and-true “Berszhu” for the Americans among us and “Bao Ze” for the Chinese. Actually, as Bao Ze is so new and cannot yet be left alone, it is to be accompanied by “Xia” (which means summer in Chinese and when pronounced correctly sounds very much like Scherr). Xia Bao Ze as it would be written here – actually it wouldn’t be written at all like that here – it would be written using Hanzi characters (see image). The newly-found Chinese friends who created my name at an expat dinner a couple of nights ago insisted that this was a very lucky name, because of the way the characters were formed, one part actually means Mao, like Chairman Mao. They could have told me anything, and I would have believed them. Anyway, they convinced me that this would be a very good name in China, so I practiced writing it over and over to the point they told me to stop and eat my dinner. But I was so proud of my new name, I turned to Patrick and pronounced it with all the right tones, which his novice ears mistook for “xiao bao zi” which actually means “small bread dumpling.” With the Chinese contingency laughing and thinking he is very clever, he firmly announced THIS to be my new name. Turns out that the “bao zi” is a derogatory name used for people with a big head.