Baci Abroad Blog
My Seoulful Life: Sympathetic Joy
I took myself to dinner last night. I find that taking myself on dates can be an empowering, soul-filling, delicious way to treat myself after a long day or week. I begin the evening by doing my hair with care, applying make-up slowly, and finding a new, cute, bougie-ish place to dine. And then I sidle into my Sexy-Drifter self as I step into a taxi who I pretend is my personal chauffeur -- perhaps especially imaginative as most drivers pass gas as they shuttle me around Seoul.
I had hoped not to dine alone last night, though. After a full day of virtual professional development -- one incredible session after another from Seoul of a Leader -- I had hoped to find a new friend to adventure with, but each of my messages had been returned with a kind, "I'm so sorry, I've already got plans tonight."
Slumped into my sofa, I spent a few moments feeling quite sorry for myself. Will I ever feel as connected to people here as I did in Shenzhen? I mourned to myself. Eight weeks into my new life, I can see that I am about as patient as my father when we were growing up, waiting for his wife and three daughters to get into the car for church on a Sunday.
After moping about for a bit, I decided I should reframe how I was looking at the evening. I messaged a restaurant owner who I had recently become acquainted with when I offered my firstborn in exchange for good goat cheese. "Any space at a table for 1 person around 7 tonight?" I typed into our Kakao chat. When Ian replied that he did indeed have the space for me at Vineworks, I popped myself in the shower and gave myself a pep talk. Off you go now, I said to myself after a quick back-and-forth with my soul-sister Ceci about how to address the sheerness of the top I had donned. (Silk scarves from Cambodia work beautifully to cover up the boobies when you don't want to wear a bra.)
It was my lucky night because my taxi driver chose to squeeze his butt cheeks together and wait for the big release once I had exited his vehicle. I walked onto the rooftop of the restaurant right as sunset was starting, and the show did not disappoint on this particular Saturday. Alright, girl, you're just fine I reminded myself. And then Ian brought over the wine.
I settled into a chair at my small wooden table and opened one of my latest reads, Sharon Salzberg's A Heart as Wide as the World. Just a couple of pages in, I became distracted by a group of women at the other end of the rooftop. They appeared lost in their revelry, laughing and trying to get the perfect photo as the sun was painting the horizon in vibrant pinks and oranges. I snapped a shot of them as balloons bounced softly on each side of their table. And I smiled. How sweet it was to be privy to this moment of theirs. Rather than feeling left out of fun for the night, I realized I shared in their joy from a distance, and that distance did not lessen the depth of contentedness that I felt. My pouty-ness had turned to peace.
As I returned to my book, I chuckled. Right on the page in front of me, Salzberg was writing about the third Brahma Vihara, or third Buddhist virtue, that of sympathetic joy. I read and reread the passage:
"Sympathetic joy is the practice of actively taking delight in the happiness of others, rather than feeling threatened or diminished, as if the happiness of another takes something away from us ... with strong sympathetic joy, we are able to feel happy when others feel happy; we rejoice and take delight in their happiness."
As the sun fully set and I was surrounded by the city lights of Seoul, I sipped more wine; Ian poured a Sauvignon Blanc and then a fruity red. It was at this point in the evening that two of the women from party walked happily in my direction, carrying a tray of cupcakes. Upon their recommendation, I chose a strawberry chocolate cupcake, so touched by their kindness. I told one of the women that I had snapped a photo of them earlier and offered to send it to her. "Oh, yes, please," she said with excitement.
As I finished the rest of my wine, which paired so deliciously with the cupcake, I decided to read one more chapter from my book. I could not help but feel it was sweet serendipity that had led me to pick up this book on this night. From a section entitled, "Returning Home" I read:
"When we turn on the light of wise attention, we can see clearly. Seeing clearly, we realize that we have no distance to travel in any direction to find our real home, where we belong, where we can be at ease -- it is right where we are."
Sexy Drifting in Shanghai: A How-to Guide
Let's begin today with the term sexy drifter. This concept was first coined by Katie Venugopal (now Kathryn Hobbs). Before she met the love of her life, got married, had children, and became a sexy skater mom, she and her friend Amanda came up with the brilliant idea of being single forever and drifting from one exotic city to another wearing nothing but bikini tops and flowing skirts, meeting men for a flirt and fling, and then slipping onto their next catamaran to sail to the next adventure. This was the dream.
One day rather recently, Katie and I were talking about my most recent dating woes. As I began to reflect upon the many things my single life does afford me, though, sexy drifterhood drifted right into my mind's eye. "Really, how I have not been owning this?" I wondered to myself.
As this conversation was taking place mere weeks before my spring break was about to begin, I thought, to hell with men. I'm taking my hot bod to a sexy city and I'm going to be my own best date! I declared.
So, I packed a suitcase with cute clothes, a dozen shoes, my red lipstick, and I bought a one way ticket to Shanghai. And then I sexy drifted all around that sexy, sophisticated city. And this is how it went:
Step 1: Choosing the hotel
The most important consideration here: location, location, location. A hotel closest to some of the hottest eats in Shanghai is just where you want to be. Your best bets are hotels in The French Concession, Jing'an, or Xintiandi. Here, booking.com is your best friend. The second measure of the best place to nest for your sexy Shanghai stay is the size of the bathtub. After drifting by foot all over the city, you'll want to run that water, add your favorite essential oils, and soak away any soreness. Finally, as you are solo traveling, consider lodging where the hotel staff will see you and get to know you, at least enough to expect you to come home at night. In the midst of your drifting, you don't actually want to disappear in a foreign city, but if somehow you do, you'll want someone who's got your WeChat and has some tabs on your whereabouts so that they can assist the authorities, if need be.
The winning auberge for this trip: Miju House. While the room is just the tinniest bit musty, in short time it will be eau de must, which is the same as shopping at Tarjay rather than Target. The bed will having you feeling like Goldilocks with its just right duvet and perfect pillows and the huge bathtub will become an ocean of sorts in the evening. You will most certainly book this guesthouse again, especially as the woman at the small "front desk" is one of the kindest Shanghainese people ever. And she'll definitely be able to describe your face. If she were to need to. (Fact: many a sexy drifter has a wild and somewhat morbid imagination; it comes with the sexy territory.)
Step 2: Indulging yourself at restaurants (and shops) around the city
By the time you've become a sexy drifter, you are many, many moons beyond the time and space of "watching what you eat" in any diet-esque way. In this liberated space of listening to your body and not Weight Watchers, when she wants fresh bread, the large slice of chocolate cake, and the second glass of wine, you say, Yeah, babe, you got it. And when you're in Shanghai, know this: your body is gonna want a lot. As you've sagely chosen an inn nearby all the good eats, you'll be able to walk to Barbarian for a custom-made cocktail, to Tacolicious for the Street Heat Fried Chicken and Steak Asado tacos, and then to Tres Perros for late night tapas and the red, red wine.
As you're window shopping up and down Fumin Road (and then subsequently taking out your credit card to buy all the things in the windows), your SmartShanghai app will help guide you to Egg for an energizing peppermint latte, and then to incredible Tom Yum soup at the plant-based Duli. Before dinner at Mercato, sexy drifter whims lead you right to Spoiled Brat Jewelry where you'll find an incredible pair of earrings. The woman who crafted the earrings will remark that they have finally found their owner as soon as you try them on. Aaaand, you're sold.
Step 3: Drifting into the art and culture scene
As a sexy drifter who moonlights as a bookworm, your first touchstone for arts and culture is choosing the right book to read while sipping lattes and wine throughout the trip. A superb choice is Kazuo Ishiguro's When We Were Orphans, set in both London and Shanghai during the 1920s, 30s, and 40s; you'll find the detective-ish novel adds further allure to the city. While reading at breakfast one morning, sitting at a cafe on a busy boulevard, you'll feel all the feels as you read, "That's where she's gone now. Off to find true love. Perhaps she'll find it too. Out there, on the South China Sea, who knows? Perhaps she'll meet a traveller, in a port, in a hotel, who knows? She's become a romantic, you see?"
A rather romantic spot in Shanghai is Tsutaya Books in Columbia Circle, a historical expat compound.
From the arched entrance to the walls of books up to the cocktail lounge on the third floor, whether drifting alone or with a new companion, this bookstore has some very sexy literary vibes, especially when you enter under the waxing moonlight.
This cocktail I chose because of its description. The Grapefruit Gimlet is "reminiscent of the glamorous woman at the bar." Shameless, the entire trip.
On another night, you must drift along The Bund. The architecture is a marvel, and the lights that cast changing motifs onto the buildings are magnificent. Evenings on The Bund are bustling, and between the crowds and cityscape you get an incredible sense of how Shanghai simply pulses with life.
There is so much of China embodied in this photo. I find it all quite beautiful.
It's worth rising at an early hour to watch the day dawn on The Bund as well. A much quieter scene, you'll see ships beginning to drift about and runners enjoying the peace of a space that has calmed in the night.
The skyscrapers surpass the surrounding clouds at this early morning hour.
Later in the morning or early afternoon, the Jing'an Sculpture Park is the perfect place to plant yourself on a bench and read your book, surrounded by flowering trees, manicured lawns, and an altogether aesthetically pleasing array of sculptures by many different artists.
Love Love Love. This is how NieNie always signed her cards and emails; love, love, love is here.
This woman, she was made for this city and this trip and this day.
I offered to take a photo for these women. Instead they pulled me in! Loved it.
When you are ready for a break from the Shanghai sun, walk into the Propaganda Poster Art Centre. While a rather small and obscure museum, it offers as much culture and history as a university course. You'll find posters dating from the beginning to end of the 20th century, you'll learn about the rise and fall of Mao, how women rose to prominence in advertising, and how capitalism is portrayed in propaganda.
Step 4: Connecting with friends, and making new ones
Any trip is, of course, enriched by spending time with special souls; the known and the new.
Meeting for breakfast, navigating public transportation, dining on fine Italian fare, and dancing along The Bund are fabulous ways to be in the moment with your own people.
Hyon Jeong and her 6th grade son, Alex. We met this summer on a yoga trip, and we became fast friends.
I met Jenn in Hong Kong a few years back. She was a friend of a friend, and now she's my friend!
And then there are new friends you can make, if only for a handful of moments, that will have a felt impact on your heart. Keeping a smile on your face, an open spirit, and showing an appreciation for another's joy can lead to profound interactions. You'll walk away with a deeper sense of the way human connection knows no bounds of culture, age, or race.
The beauty here, in the movement and spirit of a morning routine.
A 67-year-old Shanghainese woman and a 38-year-old American woman find they are quick kindred spirits.
Step 5: Extending your stay
It felt super sexy to buy a one way ticket, but you didn't actually do it. Because someone inside the Sexy Drifter in you also lives Reason. So, you originally booked a 4 night, 5 day trip, reasoning that it would be a good idea to return to your home city with a couple of days to rest up in your own apartment before the reality of work begins anew.
But.
When you fall, for someone, or some city, you fall hard. You're all in. And so you're going to STAY LONGER. Trip.com does not do you wrong as adjusting your departure date does not break the bank. That task will be left to Madame Mao's Dowry where you'll find organic cotton cuddle duds for your unborn baby niece that will cost you your own firstborn. But, it'll be worth it in the short term because Baby Greta will be here so soon and you are not immune to the millennial's love of instant(ish) gratification.
Staying over the weekend will also afford you more time to simply sit at tiny parks in the midst of the hustle and bustle, devour more tapas, this time at Pirata, and finish the book you started on Day 1. After all, who could depart a city before the story is finished?
From a sweet, peaceful park situated in the middle of the city.
The Wrap-Up
I have found my relationships with people and with cities to be quite similar. There are those that you might be quite content to pass along or pass through quite quickly, those that, over time, become quite significant for you, and those that draw you in right away. Shanghai, for me, was the latter. It is everything I had imagined, and more. As my Taiji boxing friend said through a WeChat translator, "Shanghai is warm, safe and inclusive. Passion, friendly."
If Shanghai is your just-right-Goldilocks city, you will feel sexy, sophisticated, bold, while also grounded. In the end, sexy drifters can become a great many things. Like Katie, a sexy skater mom, or like others, sexy single moms, sexy book moms, or forever sexy bohemians.
Someday, I am sure my sexy drifterhood will drift into a new beautiful identity and space. For now, I will soon be sexy drifting to a city near you.
Enchantingly Ever After, a Christmas in Lijiang
Sipping cat-shit coffee at a cozy, eclectic coffee shop off of a stone street in Ancient Town Lijiang was arguably a defining moment of my Christmas trip this year. Usually, Christmas-time means enjoying champagne with Gram or making Mom and Dad spiced turmeric lattes. #2020 though, right? Instead, there I was imbibing the fruits of a wild cat's butt.
Really, perhaps Lijiang more than anywhere else in the world can make sipping cat-shit coffee enchanting. At the time that I was sipping, I avoided thinking about how the Civet, a beady-eyed Indonesian wild "cat" had eaten the coffee beans, fermented them in her belly, and then graciously pooped them out to be made into the grounds for the coffee in my dainty cup.
Rather than this imagery, I was engrossed in the adventure of author and seeker Kate Harris as she snuck through a Chinese checkpoint into a forbidden part of the Tibetan Plateau as I read her memoir Lands of Lost Borders: Out of Bounds on the Silk Road.
The book, the cat-shit coffee, anything really, becomes especially enchanting when this is your view.
Whether you're up for drinking the most expensive poop coffee (I can hear my nieces across the ocean having so much fun with this), or whether you're up for the an oat milk latte, Elegant Time Coffee is a must-visit when in Lijiang.
Lijiang, essentially "small-town China" with it's 1.2 million residents, does boast beyond its coffee. Each part of the town that we tromped into proved to be picturesque, each meal sublime, and each person we encountered so, so kind.
We were first welcomed to town by a driver courtesy of one of the former Shekou International School parents who found out we were traveling to Yunnan Province. Fleta paid for us to have the driver for the entirety of the trip, and we are endlessly grateful to her for making our trip that much easier.
When we were dropped off at the gate to the Ancient Town, we were met by our guesthouse staff who had come to put our luggage in a trolley cart and walk with us to our holiday abode. The Lijiang Gui Yuan Tian Ju Guesthouse felt like home the moment we unpacked for our weeklong stay.
Brad, Alli, Charles, and I all taught in Quito together. Brad currently teaches in Beijing with his partner Gavin.
It was wild and cool to get to rendezvous for this trip.
We sat down with our hosts for Pu'er tea, which is native to the region, as they offered us suggestions of where to eat.
At the end of our first lunch, Charles mentioned that he tries not to feel like a Butterball on the first day of vacation. By some magical elements of Lijiang, we all managed to fit into our pants by the end of the trip.
Perhaps it was the walking.
At the end of each day, we would all check our step count and state the numbers with pride in our voices.
Here are most of the places we walked around in this most lovely part of China ...
we walked all around ancient town
Well, we walked, except when we sat. Models gotta model, you know.
photo credit: Charles Denson
We weren't the only models in town, either. Some may argue we weren't even the cutest.
I was delighted to find that a river runs through the part of town where we stayed. You know the feeling you get when you want to squeeze a baby's cheeks so hard because they are so damn cute? That's kind of how I feel about Lijiang because it's so damn quaint.
We walked for miles and miles and got lost and found and turned around and were delighted by it all.
In my holiday cheer, I thought it'd be fun to sing to the cats, but this is how they felt about the way I carry a tune ... or don't.
It really was around every corner, in every shop, that we found the animals were the proprietors of the stores. Or, at least, they were good at luring customers in. I hope they get a good cut of all of the sales.
photo credit Alli Denson
And what's a woman to do when she finds that perfect boutique? Buy the new coat! For many years I have prided myself on being a more conservative (read reasonable) spender than my sisters. China has proved I got that Baci shopping gene as bad as any of them. My Gram used to go to her AEM (Arthur M Marquart) when she needed to "withdraw" money. I'm trying to figure out where my nearest cash machine is now, too.
We could have stayed within the ancient town for all the moments, but there was more to see in Lijiang, so
we hiked to a reservoir
Like father, like daughter; my heart belongs to the mountains.
My company and the mountains did lift my spirits out of their sadness at spending my only Christmas away from home. We had a delightful dinner with a wonderful group of friends on the 25th, which meant
we walked around the Christmas buffet at the Hyatt
Christmas in Minnesota will forever have my heart, and this family abroad is beautiful too.
The chocolate truffles got me so good this evening. After I'd enjoyed foie gras, dumplings, sushi, red red wine, the company, the view, the whole of it, really, I did an extra lap around the dessert table hoping to carefully pocket a few truffles to go, but, alas, they had all been eaten. In the end, I simply saved room for more dumplings the next day when
we walked to a reflection lake
The happy hikers here: Charles, Gavin, Brad, Alli, and yours truly.
Mom and Pop shops are the way to eat the best local food.
This sweet little spot that serves the most divine dumplings deserves a Michelin star, and the homemade food was just what we needed to fuel the hike.
When we did enter the park, we were serenaded by lyrical music. I think most any foreigner who is traveling of their own volition anywhere will share my sentiment that seeing and feeling the spirit of new people is one of the most beautiful parts of exploring new places.
After the bright light that this man was, we were hit by more beauty.
Behind the sparkling water and pagoda is Snow Mountain.
We indeed tried to walk around Snow Mountain, too, but of all the days we spent in Lijiang -- 7, in total -- our Snow Mountain day was apparently the one the Goddess of Travel decided to play with humor. There was a lot lost in translation, there was the wind that shut down a ski lift, but then there was also the beauty of the Blue Moon Valley below.
and so of course we walked around the valley
This was about the point where I had burned my Snickers off and I wanted to eat someone's arm and Gavin and Brad were bravely trying to still get on the ski-lift before it was shut down but they couldn't. But there was a great deal to smile for -- the two friends beside me and that turquoise lake.
Just, this.
By this point our legs had served us so well, we thought, why not log some more steps. And so we did when
we walked around another old town, baishazhen
Those friends, those mountains, and those old streets with stories to tell.
While in Yunnan Province, we wanted to hike Tiger Leaping Gorge. Alli and I have hiked many of the Andes Mountains in Ecuador, and it felt our time was due for another big trek. Tiger Leaping Gorge, though is currently seasonly closed. After speaking with an inn keeper near the gorge, we contemplated hiking on the sly, but eventually thought better of it, largely because why tempt 2020 further?
Instead, we opted for a night in Shangri-La, a 4-hour drive from Lijiang.
we skipped, we walked, we meandered around shangri-la
And by this, I do not mean a fancy hotel or a mythical place like author James Hilton created in his 1933 novel Lost Horizon. Shangri-la, or Xianggelila, does indeed exist at the seat of the Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture. For us, it was as lovely and magical as one might imagine with its sweet guesthouses
We stayed at the Shangri-La E-outfitting Boutique Hotel situated beautifully within the Old Town.
Tibetan hot pot
Photo credit: Gavin C
Those dumpling bows above are folded around yak meat, the plate-du-jour all day every day in Yunnan Province. We were all fans. Big fans.
cookie-baking cafes and warm Yunnan coffee at The Compass Cafe we ordered 17 cookies and 4 other desserts.
live music pumping reggae bar, The Den.
Charles played foosball, beat everyone in the bar, and that was enough to make fast friends of the owners.
and monastery
We walked many, many steps within the monastery. It is overwhelming in its vibration and its beauty.
As we were packing up to leave Shangri-la, I was taken by this rose outside of the guesthouse door. It felt like a reminder of the great beauty in stillness, in simplicity, and in nature.
Seven days after we had rendezvoused at our guesthouse in Lijiang, Brad, Alli, Charles, and I reluctantly packed up to return back to Shenzhen. It certainly is a good life back here in our big city, and there were also so many magical moments that we were able to share in Lijiang, and I will be peach rice wine toasting to that for decades to come.
I miss you already, crew. (Charles, you have a beautiful face. I am sorry my one-handed photo skills failed to show it in its full glory.)
As I have been developing a deep nostalgia for our trip, I have returned to The Lands of Lost Borders, which I finished on the plane ride back to Shenzhen. I connected to so many of Harris's words.
While we were not pedaling our way across the Silk Road, I think we all viscerally understand what Harris means when she writes, "Your sole responsibility on Earth, as long as your legs last each day, is to breathe, pedal, breathe—and look around.”
And so a final toast to looking around in this New Year. Looking around at the ordinary to see the extraordinary, looking around to see how we can be of service to someone else, to consider how we might bring greater equity to the spaces we inhabit. Looking around to see where we can take new chances, cherish moments with those we love and those who love us back and live in gratitude for what we have in this very moment.
All my love,
Jamie
About last night: I had a date with Spontaneity
Raise your hand if you are a creature of habit? (I have a hunch that the first hand to go up is that of Hannah Julien, my freshman year roomie and bestie, the one and only consumer of a nightly vanilla-pudding-with-sliced-banana snack.)
I am also a routined woman. Routines make me feel that I can control parts of my day, they make me feel safe, and they, probably like you, also help with my productivity. Some of my routines, like eating chocolate before breakfast and after dinner, are also delicious.
In the midst of Covid, many ... most? of our routines have been interrupted, though here in China we have largely returned to Life as We Knew(ish) It, so I am back to many of my routines with school and the gym and eating at my favorite restaurants. Yesterday, though, I got done with work and thought to hell with my Monday routine, which generally consists of mentally gearing up for Tuesday by making my food for the next day, fine-tuning lesson plans, and reading at my apartment.
There's a very cool part of Shenzhen called OCT-Loft, and after a bit of a pep talk from my soulie Ceci, I decided to make my own variation of her suggestion that I go out and find some salsa dancing ... by myself. Salsa dancing often involves wine, in my experience, and so I decided to take part of the plan she devised -- one that she felt would challenge my boundaries a bit -- and just go find a nice glass of wine.
I hopped in a taxi straight from school as dropping by home to change would have meant a longing look from my couch. After the 30-minute ride, I stepped into the artsy OCT Loft and took a few steps in the direction of a whiskey bar I knew of, glancing to my right to see Mo Wine written on an awning. Well, thank you very much, Serendipity, I thought as I walked towards the sign.
I walked into the small establishment to find a rather fancy but still cozy space. Fine wines lined the walls, a few leather chairs were pulled up to tables, and three stools stood by the window.
I ordered a glass of La Valentina Bellovedere and sat down at one of the tall stools with my iPad to finish reading Samantha Power's The Education of an Idealist. I sat sipping my wine, reading Power's conclusion about her time as UN Ambassador, and taking a moment to practice my selfie skills.
As I was finishing up the memoir, I glanced behind me to see that a table had been set.
The shy bones in my body have, in my 30s, become more emboldened, and I quickly set about inquiring what was taking place and could I please be part of it. Richard said that I was just in luck, he could set one more chair for wine tasting that would take place in another two hours.
While on many evenings I would have taken note of the fact that Mo Wine offered wine tastings, packed up to head home for dinner and crawl into bed by 9 pm, last night, I thought Woman, you are going to keep living your best spontaneous life tonight. This is your 37th year around the sun and let's remember 37 is your favorite number and let's forget 2020 is effing with some serious shit and let's drink more wine.
And so I stayed.
While I waited for the wine tasting to start, I opened up Jackie, Ethel, and Joan: The Women of Camelot by J. Randy Taraborrelli, ordered garlic fries, and started sipping the Prosecco Richard served me, a pre-wine tasting treat.
Just a bit before 8 pm, other wine tasters began to sidle into the bar and take their seats at the table. I was feeling particularly giddy to have happened upon Mo Wine on just this night and my anticipation increased as I watched a photographer take photos of our sommelier and the wine he would be serving us.
After giving us the history of the Seña and Chadwick vineyards, our Frenchman offered us glasses of five different wines to try.
I spent the next two hours feeling intoxicated, but not because I was tipsy. I learned that truly fine wine will simply leave you feeling fabulous rather than boozed. What was really intoxicating to me was that I was surrounded by strangers and making new friends of them, I was the the only foreigner aside from our Frenchman, and I was sticking my nose in glass after glass of the most aromatic wines.
My favorite sound of the evening was the frequent clicking of glasses.
Tonight, after school, I went a more traditional route and dined with my friends Craig and Ann on The Strip, the area right outside of school full of bars and restaurants and massage parlors. It was, of course, also lovely. Dates with them always are.
But I can't wait for my next date with Spontaneity. We agreed to see each other again.
Chinese Hospitality in Qingdao
The Tea Houseby j.n.baci
wearing a tamed top bun --dark glasses perched upon her nose,perfect lips painted soft pink --a mother lounges on the creamy couchshe leans over the tea tableand takes her daughter's phone;her mouth breaks into a smileat what the screen revealsmen's soft voices speakover the dark red lacquered table,while the clink of tiny porcelain teacupschime in the Qingdao air"every passing moment is the passing of life;every moment of life is life itself"she reads her bookas she sips the carmelized-amber liquorand lets the pu'er tea languish on her tongue,cradling the cup between her fingertipsbreathing in the scene,gazing out the window;her eyes cannot decipherthe meaning of the characterson the building across the roadbut she appreciates the shadowsthat green leaves caston the fine lines of words unknownwhat a wonder it has been, she thinks,to feel welcomed by her many hosts --the server at a tea house,the waiter at a restaurant,the manager at a hotel --locals who have worked to decipherher gestures and singularMandarin wordsso that they may offer herthe comfort of hospitalityin the form of fine teasand seafood still in the shellgratitude fills the world inside of herthat this unfamiliar placehas opened up spaceto her:the foreigner,the traveler,the seeker
Where I am typing right now, a busy Starbucks back in Shenzhen, is quite a different scene from the tranquil tea house I sat at in Qingdao, another seaside city in China. Today I am yearning for the cooler climate and slower pace of this "smaller city," thus, post-trip nostalgia has already set in.
While I have been residing in China for four years now, I have explored little of my host country as I have chosen to either return to Minnesota or travel abroad for vacations. That which a couple of months ago felt so upsetting -- a forced stay in China for the summer -- has opened up space to explore the culture and expansive space of this country more deeply; while I miss home, I am grateful to feel fully like a Shenzhener and a true resident of China now.
The trip to Qingdao was precipitated on the following: This fall, at a gala that auctions items to raise money for women and girls in China, I bid on and won a night at the Shangri-La in Qingdao. As I picked up my voucher, I giggled because I did not even know where this city (of some 9 million residents) was located, or why one would visit.
I did not yet even really know what I was celebrating in terms of a city. Mostly, at this point, I was celebrating that I am as good as any of the Bacichx at spending money.
With time on my hands this summer, I finally booked the Shangri-La -- originally for three nights -- with Alli and Charles, and we packed our bags and got on the plane, blindly, as none of us took time to look up any information about the city before we arrived. (We had, though, heard from friends here and there that Qingdao is known for its seafood, and having been friends in fitness and food for 7-years, this felt promising to the three of us -- or at least Charles and me. Alli does not like seafood but she is ever the good sport and will find something on the menu.)
After an early morning 3-hour flight, we landed in Qingdao and taxied to the Shangri-La. Upon check-in, I took out my voucher. The woman at the desk looked at me apologetically as she pointed out that the voucher is not good for July or August. Missing this itty bitty detail is mmmm, maybe a little bit on-brand for me. I made sad attempts to barter the point saying, "I understand that most years this is probably high season, but right now not as many people are traveling, so could you make an exception?" Losing a debate? Also on-brand. But, I shrugged my shoulders and we paid the mere $72 a night for each of our rooms, and promptly found our way to lunch.
While it was not our first lunch, our most notable one did include a tableful of seafood -- Qingdao certainly lived up to its reputation.
Once, when I was many, many years younger, and trying to barter with my dad about getting my own room, I "ate" a smoked oyster. I believe I spit most of it out. I suppose this was one time that I finagled a way to get what I wanted, but then he said he would have given me my own room regardless. And by own room, I mean Mom and Dad turned part of the downstairs living space into an open-air bedroom. And I was rather thankful, and then regretful because I missed talking with Linds as we fell asleep.
I digress, and return to the ways I have refined (those, like my oldest niece Natalie may debate my use of the word refined here) my palate over the years. Case in point, the shellfish I consumed on this day in Qingdao:
This clam is so much prettier than that smoked oyster. Photo credit: Alli Denson
Walking into the seafood restaurant hungry (or hangry if you are a Jamie or a Charles and God bless Alli), we struggled for a long minute to figure out what most of the raw seafood on display was and how to order an appropriate amount. After the use of phone translators, speaking English slowly -- as if the owners would then learn our language in a mere moment -- and many gesticulations, we were on the verge of giving up and trying another restaurant. Low blood sugar will hinder one's ability to problem-solve or have patience. But, just at this moment of greatest defeat, a woman who also worked at the restaurant stepped in with enough English to let us know that we could simply order a bamboo steamer full of mixed seafood and try samples of many new shelled sea creatures.
Photo credit: Charles Denson
We ate most of this. We were really full.
How many times have I breathed an incredible sigh of gratitude when I have been saved by someone stepping in to help with more English than I have Chinese even though we are in China? So many times. So, so many times.
We enjoyed the ocean air of the Yellow Sea on our first day.
Alli and me at the pier. Photo credit:
As we continued to venture around the city, we continued to encounter so much goodwill from our short or longer-term hosts, and often at just the right moment.
On our third day in Qingdao, as we were in the process of navigating different modes of transportation and buying tickets to enter the park surrounding Mt. Lao, a woman who worked at the (vastly Chinese) tourist center stepped in to support our cause. In part thanks to her, we were able to enjoy the following day:
Photo credit: Charles Denson
Life lived in translation is often entertaining. I do not post this photo to make fun of the translation at all. I find the translations often endearing, and I am humbled by anyone who can write in both Chinese characters and use a Roman alphabet.
There are several temples along the paths on Laoshan.
This guy was guarding the entrance to one of the temples. As we descended the mountain, we took in this view for a bit.
Photo credit: Charles Denson
The following morning, enjoying the delicious buffet at the Shangri-La, our newfound friend Wallance, one of the managers of hospitality, said that he had comped our breakfast. After Charles went back to the room, Wallance did tell Alli and me that Charles was the reason he, Wallance, was most inspired to take care of the cost. Despite the lovely ladies beside Charles on the trip, he was the one with the most admirers. The compliments that Alli and I received ... well, they were mostly from Charles. We didn't complain; we just kept eating the free food.
Wallance, we love you, fine friend.
And then we kept walking, all around lovely spaces. One of those spaces was the German quarter. Some 100 years ago, Germany had control of Qingdao. At least this is what we were told on the trip at some point; I still have not done my research on the city. Whenever it was that the Germans occupied Qingdao, they influenced the city through architecture. In the German quarter, a Catholic church rises high on the top of a hill and is surrounded by a plaza. People-watching in this square was fabulous.
So, so many brides and grooms every day of the week are being photographed at the plaza surrounding the church.
Take a few moments. Just take in the whole scene. We loved this space.
After three days of exploring together, the Denson's flew home to Shenzhen, and I decided to rebook my flight and stay another night at the Shangri-La.
Just a bit deliciously dizzy on half a glass of red Italian wine from Milano’s, biting into a piece of pan-fried sea bass with coarse black salt, I reflected about how on-brand (I'll tire of this phrase soon) for me to extend my stay in various places. I was supposed to be two years abroad, and it's turned to 7 and counting. I was supposed to go to Thailand for 7 days in February and it turned into 23. I was supposed to stay for 3 nights in Qingdao and it turned into 4.
Evident in all of these extensions is the great privilege that is so much of my life. Also evident, as one of my 11th graders stated at the end of this past school year, is the way that "nothing is certain until it's certain."
And so as my seemingly certain 3-day holiday out of Shenzhen turned to 4 days, I sat at a tea shop and sipped pu'er tea.
I sipped some more, read, listened to the people around me, listened to the soft water running in the little man-made stream in the center of the tea house, and just allowed myself to be.
While in Qingdao, I was reading Lisa See's The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane. The story offers some interesting history on pu'er tea, and of course, now I am low-key (read: I drink it every day now) obsessed with it.
As I went to pay for my $47 (that is indeed in US dollars) cup of pu'er tea, a tall Chinese man wearing lounge pants and a t-shirt began to converse with me in as much English as I have Chinese. After he named California and New York after asking where I was from, I tried to explain that I am from a state in the middle of the two. Minn-e-sot-a I repeated several times. Ahhhh he said as he pulled up a photo of Kevin Garnet. I laughed and thought, it's a big-small world, isn't it?
As I was asking about my bill for the cup of tea, the man insisted on paying for my extravagance. He expected nothing in return and simply waved happily as I walked out of the tea house, saying, Welcome to China with a big grin on his face.
And now I'm here, in Shenzhen, thinking about this kind man, and all of the spaces we were welcomed into in Qingdao, and I'm thinking about humanity and goodness and life as I am always The Contemplative.
Plans are always subject to change. Sometimes we change them, sometimes they change on us. Tonight, I am feeling particularly grateful that in the times that whoever's choosing the change of plans has been, the world has continued to offer hospitality to me in many ways.
And the Universe continues to call me to reflect on how I can pay hospitality, in its many forms, forward.
Buttery, the Story of a Neighborhood Café
It's Sunday afternoon. Lulu, the owner of my favorite neighborhood café, Buttery, moves about her open concept kitchen space gracefully. She's making lattes and delivering them in small artsy mugs to the few of us here working today. As Lulu moves over to the stove to check on her chili, Mary Wells' words Nothing you can say can tear me away from my guy/ Nothing you could do 'cause I'm stuck like glue to my guy softly float into the air from a tiny iPod placed underneath the table with hand-crafted jewelry that Lulu sells in the cafe.
Those of us enjoying this warm space today are breathing in the aroma of blueberry, raspberry and blackberry jams simmering on the stovetop. Fresh pumpkin spice and blueberry scones are propped up in front of me, deservingly elevated on a cake stand -- the flavors from Buttery have been raising the community's spirits for the past three weeks, the same amount of time fears and restrictions from the novel coronavirus have been spreading.
Lulu opened Buttery in May of 2019. I remember catching a glimpse of the café as I descended Nanshan Mountain in the spring. I peaked in a couple of times, but it wasn't until this fall that I opened the door and ventured inside her haven.
"This is so much of my love," Lulu told me as we sat down to talk last week, a lull in the afternoon business opening up space for some storytelling. When you walk into Buttery, you feel the love, the warmth, the sense of community that emanates outwards from Lulu into the space surrounding her.
Lulu at her industrial-sized mixer. She bakes bread daily.
The set-up of the café is an open-concept kitchen with a horseshoe of small tables and chairs surrounding one end of the cooking space. The decor is eclectic: carved gnomes stand on a shelf along with hand-crafted pottery and other knick-knacks; it's not kitschy, nor does it exude sophistication. The entire space works together to embrace you; you have the warm feeling of having just eaten your grandmother's best comfort food even before you've sunk your fork into Lulu's homemade dishes.
Photo courtesy of Lulu
The menu at Buttery is inspired by Lulu's memories of watching her grandmother cook homemade recipes for the Chinese New Year. As Lulu and I continued to sit and talk, her tone becoming more animated, she told me of how she wants people to understand that wholesome eating is achievable.
Soup Joumou, steaming with pumpkin, chunks of savory beef, squash carrots and fragrant herbs. Photo courtesy of Lulu.
In 2006, Lulu met her husband, Kodiak, at a wellness center in Harbin Hot Springs, California. Lulu's friends brought her to the retreat after she volunteered at an event for Obama's campaign in the Bay Area. Kodiak was helping to build a temple at the hot springs.
As the two were getting to know each other, Lulu shared with Kodiak her dream to open a café someday. "What will you sell there," he laughed, "frozen food from Trader Joe's?" Lulu stubbornly told him that living her younger years in Shanghai and Shenzhen, she knew about cooking fresh food. When he asked her to make something, she didn't have any recipes at her fingertips ... yet.
Kodiak and Lulu's relationship deepened, and the two moved to Mendocino County in 2007. They were surrounded by people who were growing their own vegetables and Lulu's consciousness of the impact of whole foods on our health deepened. She began spending time with new friends who taught her about growing her own food. She began to read and watch videos about food science. She began to experiment with making her own bread. She noticed how she felt when she ate such fresh foods.
You can dine in or out at Buttery. It is placed on a quiet corner, so it offers the perfect nook for some reading. Photo courtesy of Lulu.
After spending five years in Mendocino County, Lulu and Kodiak made the move to China. In 1983, when Lulu was four years old, she had moved to Shenzhen with her family from Shanghai. Over 30 years later, her return to Shenzhen would see the realization of the dream that she had shared with Kodiak, though not for some years still.
Lulu and Kodiak opened a language center once they had settled into Shenzhen. In a small space at the learning center, Lulu began to bake fresh goods such as bread and scones. In time, two food bloggers stumbled upon the space and wrote about her "mysterious confidence."
Over time, Lulu and her husband grew tired of teaching English at the center they had opened. Their vision did not always match what parents who sent their children wanted. When Lulu and Kodiak received a strong offer for the space, they sold the center, serendipitously drawing Lulu even closer to the location that would become Buttery.
On Sundays, Lulu, Kodiak and their son, four-year-old Atticus, came to Shekou to walk Nanshan Mountain. One day, as they were dining on their favorite dumplings after a hike, they noticed that there was a vacant storefront nearby. In January of 2019, Lulu and Kodiak began renovations and five months later Buttery opened to the public.
The public includes the neighborhood cats. When Lulu saw this sweet one outside, she rushed to her refrigerator to get fresh, organic chicken to serve her.
"I remember the day that you first came in," Lulu told me. "You were the first foreigner to order my chicken." I feel special in this moment, that I have somehow made a mark on Lulu. The truth is, I have, but so has everyone else that has entered Buttery. Lulu has a knack for names, and for remembering others' stories. It is, in part, the reason why, even after a lull in business from July until October, the café is now thriving. At Buttery, you are at home.
Most days, during this coronavirus outbreak, I have snuggled right into a chair here, feeling safe and cozy. While many restaurants have remained closed, Lulu has kept Buttery open, becoming a haven for the community.
Lulu uses her calligraphy to communicate to café visitors that we all live under the same sky and the same moon. We are one, she reminds us as she paints this Buddhist message.
As we close our conversation today, I am getting ready to go cuddle with the cats, and Lulu is getting ready to return home to Kodiak and Atticus, she leans towards me, and says, "Life just kind of takes you ... you plan ... but what's inside of you drives you. You will say verbally what you want to do, but in the end, you will be driven to where your heart is."
Update, May 5, 2022
The pandemic has brought so much change to the world, on global and community scales. Not so long after this article was first posted, Lulu and her family left China for Japan. Since Kodiak does not have a Chinese passport, the family was locked out of China long term. Due to these circumstances, Lulu and her family moved to the United States where they have extended family. Last we spoke, her spirits were high and she was doing well.
Reporting from China: Just Add Oil
This weekend saw Shekou, my little bubble of Shenzhen, tightening up on restrictions and protocols in order to continue to work to contain the virus. Published in the Shekou Daily, the new rules decreed that "Residents in residential buildings shall not visit other households in the same complex, and must strictly adhere to the requirements for wearing masks in public places." Having lived in China for four years and having been in Shenzhen since the coronavirus outbreak began, this kind of restriction does not feel to me now what it might have felt in years before. As it stands now, some buildings are not enforcing the rule as strictly as others, so a few of us did get to gather last night for some Exploding Kittens and Fishbowl shenanigans.
Charles appears quite tranquil in the midst of what Trey seems to be communicating as an epic ... something.
Katie, caught mid-gesture -- I think this was in describing ... newborn baby poop?
Which of those cards is going to save you from the exploding kitten, Alli?
Other members of the Shekou community who have decided to stay on in Shenzhen have put up tents for their children on their balconies, offering a new experience in the midst of masks and large periods indoors. This same primary teacher, the nature and bug loving Kevin O'Shea, has a vlog on YouTube that I highly recommend checking out -- you get daily insights into what the city really looks and feels like through his videos and narrations.
Before staying up until midnight (I felt young again), Alli, Ann, Charles and I started our day with a run at Talent Park, a lovely area with sculptures and a cushy running path that circles a small body of water.
New rules also say that while in open spaces, we do not have to wear a mask. The air quality on Saturday was perfection.
These three logged many more miles than I did -- 17 in total!
After running a 5k, I meandered along, taking time to stop and breathe into the balance of lovely art.
And this -- sending out Love to Wuhan, and to the whole wide world.
Today I got busy brunching with my fellow midwesterners. We dined at Gaga Garden. Again, we were the only ones, save for the employees who took a seat at a nearby table.
I am not entirely sure what the purpose of the red caution tape is -- and I cannot read the sign.
Craig and Ann and a cup of coffee. My kind of slow Sunday.
This is the state of my life right now. As I continue to feel safe in Shenzhen, I am also fortunate to be enjoying a slow, mindful pace, something I have not felt in many years. There is a part of me, the adventurous and very privileged part, that considers meeting up with my family in California or getting on a plane to Thailand. The seeker in me, though, has me staying put. My soul has been seeking this rhythm for so long, one that allows me to think more clearly, appreciate my sense of presence, and enjoy what is rather than wanting more.
Staying put in Shenzhen has also meant that I have had more opportunities to hear the stories of my immediate community. Tonight I was fortunate enough to cook for a new SIS friend, our primary school librarian, Megan, who also lives in my building. As a fellow cat woman, we shared stories of how our felines came to find us. We shared stories of living abroad ... and we shared a lot of vegetables.
Two whole bowls are better than one. This is the year of #wholebowls for me and my kitchen, and my gut biome (I am so that nerd right now) has been thanking me.
I feel blessed to be in Shenzhen, feeling settled in my high-rise apartment. I also feel especially blessed to have the option still to leave if that settled feeling changes. I know that during this outbreak, so many do not have the same options or sense of security.
One of our SIS administrators sent out a video this evening that returns our attention to the unsung heroes in Wuhan, the doctors, and medical staff that are bravely serving those who are sick.
The video is in English and has subtitles in English.
In closing, tonight, my friends and family all over the world, Jiāyóu加油
Add oil as the Chinese saying goes.
Reporting from China: Does Anyone Want to Join My Dance Team?
After another coconut milk matcha latte, drank at leisure with the cats, my day began something like this (video failed to upload because #thisinternetblows):
If you want in ... I mean, you want in ...
After this dance sesh and a 25-minute HIIT workout, there was indeed a lot of workworkworkworkwork.
While I enjoy the quiet space to #work, coming into to SIS has been strange.
I peaced out of school just before lunch to walk to Buttery, the best café in Shekou, for some food and more company.
It was lovely to settle into the quiet space of Buttery -- an SIS family, who also frequents the cafe, was there, and we chatted a bit about enjoying the nearby "mountain" and all of the things that Lulu freshes cooks, sautés and bakes. "Life is just better with Lulu," said the father.
I consumed those veggies, and the large chicken leg that accompanied them, a number of hours ago now, so I am about to dig into the dish I cooked up in the instant pot tonight.
Again, do you want to join my dance team?