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Helen, my colleague sent us this great explanation of the Mid-Autumn Festival – which happened at the end of September. 

The joyous Mid-Autumn Festival was celebrated on the fifteenth day of the eighth moon, around the time of the autumn equinox. Many referred to it simply as the “Fifteenth of the Eighth Moon”.

This day was also considered as a harvest festival since fruits, vegetables and grain had been harvested by this time and food was abundant. Food offerings were placed on an altar set up in the courtyard. Apples, pears, peaches, grapes, pomegranates, melons, oranges and pomelos might be seen. Special foods for the festival included moon cakes, cooked taro and water caltrope, a type of water chestnut resembling black buffalo horns. Some people insisted that cooked taro be included because at the time of creation, taro was the first food discovered at night in the moonlight. Of all these foods, it could not be omitted from the Mid-Autumn Festival.

The round moon cakes, measuring about three inches in diameter and one and a half inches in thickness, resembled Western fruitcakes in taste and consistency. These cakes were made with melon seeds, lotus seeds, almonds, minced meats, bean paste, orange peels and lard. A golden yolk from a salted duck egg was placed at the center of each cake, and the golden brown crust was decorated with symbols of the festival. Traditionally, thirteen moon cakes were piled in a pyramid to symbolize the thirteen moons of a “complete year,” that is, twelve moons plus one intercalary moon.

The Mid-Autumn Festival is a traditional festivity for both the Han and minority nationalities. The custom of worshipping the moon can be traced back as far as the ancient Xia and Shang Dynasties (2000 B.C.-1066 B.C.). In the Zhou Dynasty(1066 B.C.-221 B.C.), people hold ceremonies to greet winter and worship the moon whenever the Mid-Autumn Festival sets in. It becomes very prevalent in the Tang Dynasty(618-907 A.D.) that people enjoy and worship the full moon. In the Southern Song Dynasty (1127-1279 A.D.), however, people send round moon cakes to their relatives as gifts in expression of their best wishes of family reunion. When it becomes dark, they look up at the full silver moon or go sightseeing on lakes to celebrate the festival. Since the Ming (1368-1644 A.D. ) and Qing Dynasties (1644-1911A.D.), the custom of Mid-Autumn Festival celebration becomes unprecedented popular. Together with the celebration there appear some special customs in different parts of the country, such as burning incense, planting Mid-Autumn trees, lighting lanterns on towers and fire dragon dances. However, the custom of playing under the moon is not so popular as it used to be nowadays, but it is not less popular to enjoy the bright silver moon. Whenever the festival sets in, people will look up at the full silver moon, drinking wine to celebrate their happy life or thinking of their relatives and friends far from home, and extending all of their best wishes to them.

Moon Cakes

There is this story about the moon-cake. during the Yuan dynasty (A.D. 1280-1368) China was ruled by the Mongolian people. Leaders from the preceding Sung dynasty (A.D. 960-1280) were unhappy at submitting to the foreign rule, and set how to coordinate the rebellion without being discovered. The leaders of the rebellion, knowing that the Moon Festival was drawing near, ordered the making of special cakes. Backed into each moon cake was a message with the outline of the attack. On the night of the Moon Festival, the rebels successfully attached and overthrew the government. Today, moon cakes are eaten to commemorate this legend and was called the Moon Cake.

For generations, moon cakes have been made with sweet fillings of nuts, mashed red beans, lotus-seed paste or Chinese dates, wrapped in a pastry. Sometimes a cooked egg yolk can be found in the middle of the rich tasting dessert. People compare moon cakes to the plum pudding and fruit cakes which are served in the English holiday seasons.

Nowadays, there are hundreds varieties of moon cakes on sale a month before the arrival of Moon Festival.

October 12, 4:30pm. Airplane somewhere between Tokyo and Shanghai.

Looking out my window at the clouds below, I am trying to collect my thoughts for this entry. I am returning from my first business trip for PMI – four days in Tokyo. Before we moved to Asia, cities like Shanghai or Tokyo were mystical metropolises, their existence felt only through scenes in films and news reports about economic booms and crashes respectively. I would never have imagined that one day I would be presenting to an audience of Japanese businessmen accompanied by my Chinese boss and Japanese distribution partner. How would I be received? What if I would say something wrong? In order to sell, one has to understand how to tap the needs of the counterpart, but the Japanese are even more opaque than the Chinese – smiling, polite, and gracious regardless of age, gender, status, situation. On the way there, I asked my boss what I should do, and he responded that I best put on my “lamb face,” which then became our inside joke for the rest of the trip. Not too aggressive, outspoken or direct. In the art of being indirect (and I am really starting to believe this is an art form), I am still a novice. During a dinner invitation with our distributor, we were asked if we could eat horse meat. I reacted with a hasty “no!” and firm shake of my head. I saw my boss looking at me, and I immediately understood my reaction was too “Western.” I asked him if I should have declined more kindly, such as thank-you-but-I-do-not-eat-horse-meat-etc-etc. And he said better yet would have been, “I really enjoy eating fish and vegetables.” Lesson 2: instead of contradiction, add phrases like “probably (not), maybe (not), I am not so sure, I do not think so…” – I have experienced this done in China as well, so I believe I have reached decent proficiency (at least in interpreting).

Other impressions in stream of consciousness (due to lack of ability to write comprehensive story at current time): lights, high-tech everything, dark suits, women with make-up, brightly-colored tights, warm toilet seats, sparkling white garbage trucks, taxi drivers with suits and gloves, bowing with arms planted at sides, adding “san” at the end of a name to show respect, long procedure of exchanging business cards, most tender sushi, rice balls, oolong tea, subway maps that look like something out of “Matrix,” boots, sake, tempura, Japanese breakfast, offices with workers packed in like sardines, seating in an office (long rows of connecting desks per department with the supervisor at a separate desk at a 90 degree to the others), smoking everywhere, expensive stores and restaurants, insanely long and tedious negotiations, relationship-building, details, clean streets, brightly marked crosswalks, coffee chains at every corner, aesthetics, beautiful packaging for everything, old women with PDAs, kimonos, sense of tradition, island culture.Tokyo is a place I probably could keep coming back to and never get tired of. I am fascinated by the people and the culture. So much so that Patrick and I are planning on celebrating New Year’s seeing other parts of Japan with my cousin Ece, who is teaching English in a small village there.

No words can describe the beauty of that dramatic, awe-inspiring mountain range. Unexpected but well worth it were the 8 hours on the bus (one-way) and the approximately 25 kilometers of elevated terrain we were ascending and descending all weekend. This trip was organized by Patrick’s segment, so that covered everyone from his Slovakian supervisor to the Chinese machine operator. It was a colorful mix of people and personalities, but we had a lot in common that weekend: the burning in our quads and the beauty of the peaks.

I wish time were not so constrained, and I could have captured my feelings directly after the trip. In hindsight, there are a few impressions worth mentioning:

– There is a real difference in mountain culture when hiking in different countries. Besides the obvious geological differences (in Austria, the mountains go up, reach a peak, and go down), there is something called mountain etiquette. In Austria as well as in the US and Canada, there are clear policies on littering as well as noise, respect the environment, etc. You may see a few groups of people on a hike, but never crowds. The attire is very sporty and casual – colors natural. Take a look at our photos in the slide show and you may be able to point out the differences. One thing is for sure: it was a lot more clean than Anji, but not because children didn’t throw their Coke bottles over the cliff while parents watched on, but because there was a large cleaning crew scanned the paths for trash throughout the day.

– There were so many people waiting for the gondola on Saturday morning that some of our group waited three hours to reach the top. In that time, we hiked. We were not prepared for neither the sleep incline nor the narrow paths often with no railing. In addition to avoiding all the climbers descending, we also had to be aware of the many small but sturdy, big-calved men carrying up to 90 kilos of hotel/restaurant supplies up the mountain. Respect. At one point, we were fairly tired and going slow, I noticed that one of the delivery men was just as fast as we were! I couldn’t help imagining their spines like in a sort of x-ray. I wondered about the kind of physical problems that would result from this kind of work. There are worse jobs in China, but this has to one of the toughest.

That is all time will allow for the moment. I hope I can soon also document my first few months at work and my daily commute to/from work!

All that anticipation. Of all the people we shall see, the places we shall go, the things we shall do. Now all laced in memory.

I have a terrible memory – I have to rely on friends to remind me of what happened in high school, college, and post-college respectively. My mother is also a good source. I am always amazed at older people who can remember specific conversations or detailed incidents from their distant past, as my grandmother did or Omi still does. They say it’s the short-term memory that becomes weaker. Well, I suppose I will lose both one day. But the feelings – the joy or sorrow, the excitement or anxiety, the anticipation or dread, will remain – prompted by hundreds of photographs and journal entries which the new digital age should protect for many years to come.

After two weeks of NY, North Carolina, and Philadelphia (in that order), Patrick and I touched down in Shanghai on Sunday afternoon, August 12th. The whole time it felt as though we should be returning to Austria. Shanghai is apparently not yet home. I actually found myself longing for my bed in Hernstorferstrasse 27/58. I turned to Patrick and said, “I could never do the 2-3 year expat routine in furnished housing.” I think I am “settled” enough now (nice way of saying “old”) to want some key items along for the ride: my own mattress, sofa, and  study desk/chair (I am adding these for Patrick’s sake).
Gone are the days that I could shift from one dormitory to the next, one flat to the next, without a moment’s hesitation!

The days, weeks in the US passed us by. I felt like I was in my own version of Four Weddings and a Funeral – only there were only two weddings, one funeral, and several new arrivals. The weddings were very merry, the couples well suited, and the celebrations worthy of our very special friends. The funeral was unexpected and tragic, a loss of a dear family friend at the age of 67 survived by his loyal son who had to fly in from overseas to not only mourn but also console his mother and take care of all necessary responsibilities. The arrivals refer to the children of my childhood friends, Deborah (who still has three months to go), Maggie, and Melissa. Life in both its pain and glory – throughout there was one common denominator though: LOVE.

In closing, I would like to thank someone I love dearly for making this vacation a dream come true (sorry, I have listened to one too many wedding toasts): my brother, Alpay. Those of you who don’t know him, you are missing one of the biggest hearts and greatest senses of humor humankind has to offer. He not only accompanied us on our tour of NY and NC, but he also drove endless hours for our sake, and took two precious days off work only to spend them doing what he loathes most: shopping. He took the place of our mother and father, whose shoes are not easy to fill. So I toast to you, Alpay, the best host in the tristate area and a new Philadelphian. I hope you enjoy your home and have many happy days there.

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.