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.