When I got back from the two-week break filled with traveling that followed the summer semester’s end, my impression of returning to Beijing to start studying again was that everything would be the same. After all, I have already had a good three and a half months to get used to life at ACC. I thought that since I already knew about how our class schedule works, or which restaurants make the best gan bian si ji dou (green beans, one of my favorite dishes) and the differences between the four or 5 kinds of qiezi (eggplant) dishes one can order in Beijing, or that when walking on the street I will inevitably come across people spitting on the sidewalk, men exposing their round buddha bellies, games of mahjong, fruit vendors, and lots of loud honking, and that I finally figured out how to add money to my yikatong (Beijing’s public transit pass card good for using on the bus, subway, and even in taxis), of course, I knew everything. When my teachers asked me at the end of the summer semester, “Ni zai Beijing de shenghuo, ni xiguanle meiyou?” (“Have you gotten used to life in Beijing?), I could honestly answer, “yes.” But even though my summer experience certainly raised my level of Mandarin by leaps and bounds and gave me a first-hand education in Chinese culture, I’ve already been proven wrong in thinking my China experience wouldn’t throw me any more curve balls.
Fall has already started to arrive here. After traveling in Yunnan, where the capital, Kunming, is known as the city of eternal spring, and I comfortably wore jeans every day walking around in the cool, clear air, I was expecting to feel stifled by Beijing’s summer heat and pollution. To my happy surprise, there was approximately a ten to fifteen-degree drop in temperature while I was gone. Now I can’t wait to find an excuse to walk outside in the dappled fall sunshine, but my excuse (combating the heat, of course) for treating myself to bingguanr (popsicles) on a daily basis is quickly disappearing.
One delicious dessert may soon be replaced with another, though, because even though Zhongqiujie, the mid-autumn moon festival, is still a full month away, in every grocery store, bakery, and sweet shop, and yes, even at Walmart, shelves are now stocked with moon cakes in an unimaginable range of quality and price. Moon cakes are the traditional food of Zhongqiujie and are sweet-tasting and usually filled with red bean paste. I’m looking forward to munching on them this fall; I recently discovered that although I am allergic to raw tofu, peas, and beans, I can eat all three once they are cooked without a problem, meaning red bean paste should be no problem. I no longer have the allergy excuse for missing out on one of China’s most notable traditional treats, and I’m looking forward to the indulgence.
One of Beijing’s locations that I discovered over the summer is called Sanlitun, and is notable as a restaurant, shopping, and bar hangout with a variety of stores and cuisines (including both Western and Asian). Although I always took taxis to get to Sanlitun for a night of dancing, an ice cream cone (they actually have a Cold Stone creamery there and I am very proud of myself for only having made one trip there so far, seeing as ice cream is my favorite thing in the world; but don’t worry, I’ve found other, cheaper ways of getting my fix, including McDonald’s sundaes–delicious and a fraction of the price of Cold Stone), or to do homework at one of my favorite bookstores, today, my roommate showed me how to get there on the bus, which costs approximately 2 kuai instead of 15. Will I be frequenting Sanlitun now that I can be stingy about it? Well, maybe all the cab money I save can be put aside another Cold Stone trip when I’m really missing the flavors of New England 🙂
I also realized today that although shopping (especially the bargaining type) is a frequent activity for me in China, because of a combination of stinginess and indecisiveness I don’t usually buy very much. While doing homework at our favorite bookstore, the Bookworm, my roommate explained to me that she had just been hit with a wave of good old American consumerism, the hunger to buy something. We decided to go to Uniqlo, a clothing store (originally Japanese I think) across the street as our reward for our Saturday afternoon diligence. As we climbed to the second floor where a big sale was going on, it hit me. I had never actually gone shopping for new clothing while in China. I have already bought too many handbags, a pair of funky sunglasses, and presents for family and friends, but never had I purchased for myself a single piece of clothing. I realized that subconsciously, not buying or wearing any new clothes was a way for me to feel like I was asserting my identity while in China, like I knew who I was since I was comfortable in what I was wearing. But partly because China is now a part of me, and partly because buying new clothes always makes me happy, I indulged myself and bought a new shirt. It is not particularly Chinese-looking or even Asian, but to me it’s the start of my outward appearance reflecting a kind of inner shift.
Tomorrow I will go to my host family’s house for lunch. They are the same family that hosted me on weekends for short get-togethers over the summer term. So I thought everything would be the same. Wrong again. When my host mother came to our school to meet up and chat with me and my new “host brother,” another ACC student who just arrived for the fall term, the mood and the words exchanged were a stark contrast to our first awkward encounter at the beginning of the summer. Instead of barely understanding her Beijing accent, I felt at ease freely conversing about my travels, her daughter going back to school, and asking my classmate (and new host brother) questions about himself to help us all get to know him. Tomorrow I will get on Bus #115 and ride it three stops to Tuanhujie park, next to my host family’s house. Upon arrival, we’ll cross the street, climb up the three flights of stairs, enter their home, and change from our street shoes into slippers. Then we will chat with our host dad and sister while our mother finishes up cooking lunch. We will sit down to eat together and they will incessantly encourage us to eat more while scooping heapfuls of pork, vegetables, and dumplings into our bowls. It will be the same as before. But also different, because who knows what aspect of Beijing life they will explain or questions about our studies they will ask. As my comprehension and speaking ability improves, each meeting with them is new and different. Though they tell us “Bie keqi, nimen shi qinqi” (Don’t be polite, you’re family!), I am still in awe of the cultural world that I have begun to glimpse through my interactions with them (and don’t want to take the not-being-polite thing too literally yet).
My final, and in some ways, most daunting new challenge is that as a “4th year” student of Mandarin at ACC, I am starting #1: to study Classical Chinese, which is pretty much another language in itself, and #2: must do an independent project that encompasses interviews of native Beijingers and a 15-page final essay. Oh, did I mention the essay’s in Mandarin? Yes, it sounds scary to me, especially when I write about it in English, but somehow it will get done. At this point, I’m still not sure how, but I’ll let you know how it goes.
