Our First Week in Beijing

The first two days we arrived in Beijing, I was feeling a bit hopeless. My prior experience in Beijing had always been in the city center where my parents lived. Everything was easily accessible-my office was within biking distance, the gym right across the street and my parents’ place an easy stroll away. Where we live now, it takes half an hour to get to city center and even longer to get to my parents’, and it’s so rural that we are practically villagers. Today on our way to register Mr. MP and the kids at the local police station we passed by a heard of sheep! The fridge started to get increasingly empty but since we didn’t have a car there was nowhere to go grocery shopping. The air was so dirty and smelly, the streets so dusty and the weather so harsh, that I felt like a loser leaving heavenly California, where we had to leave because we couldn’t afford jack.

Almost a week later, I am finally starting to feel better. I was kicking myself for not convincing my parents to buy a place within the city, but after taking Juju out for walks and visiting her nursery school, I am beginning to see the wisdom of being where we are. Our housing complex is divided into two areas and impeccably manicured with greenery. Our place is three-story multiplex—perhaps a description will be easier. It’s in a six story building with about five or six individual entrances. Each entrance accesses four units. The two bottom units occupy the first three floors and the two top ones top three floors (thus six stories). Ours is a top unit that overlooks a manmade lake. Compared to our two bedroom plus office, 1.5 baths Menlo Park apartment this place is sprawling. I often find myself having trouble finding various stuff, spread all over the house.

The other area comprises of townhouses, each with its own front and back yard. Many people house their dogs in the backyard and plant fruit trees. A stroll through the complex is quite a pleasurable experience, especially considering that I would never be able to take the kids out in the city center where the only sights consist of cars, bikes, and people upon people. Juju’s school is an easy 15-minute walk away within the complex and on the way I can let her lose when there are no cars within sight. The best part of all about living here has to be the resident-access only park where there is a lush lawn and a children’s play area. Last time Juju was there she peed under one of the play structures. Little children urinating on sidewalks and behind bushes is a commonly accepted sight especially in more suburban areas.

Juju’s Nursery School

Upon visiting Juju’s nursery school, I was pleased to find the director with preschool experience in America. Even picky Silicon Valley moms would be satisfied with her teaching philosophy—she preaches learning through play for young children and specific feedback to children rather than empty praise and blank criticism. I spoke to the on-site pediatrician (take that, Silicon Valley daycare!) and sat in on an English lesson taught by Uncle Robert, an American with a hint of Midwestern origin. Breakfast, lunch, AND dinner are provided everyday.

During my visit two other moms came along but it was evident that we cared about different things. I was much more concerned about their overall philosophy and handling of the children in difficult situations, whereas the other moms wanted to know if the children were taught specific subjects such as math, piano, English, etc. With their roots in America as well as in China, my children have the luxury of being children and enjoying their precious childhood. I simply want the school to help build their character and enjoy their play rather than to teach them a load of things for various entrance exams. On the other hand, the Chinese children face ruthless competition at every stage of their growth and one ruinous score on an exam could kill their chance of entering one of the top colleges, seen as the only path to success. Being good at math or playing the piano could help these kids get into the school of their choice, so the parents pressure the kids into participating in as many activities as they can. You think SV moms were kind of crazy? Wait until you meet these urban Chinese moms. I told the pediatrician that we don’t want the nursery school to actually school our kids. She said that even though it is their philosophy to let children enjoy free play, there is tremendous pressure from parents to teach the kids “stuff”.

The school still was a lot more orderly than Juju’s daycare at Stanford—the teachers line kids up according to height to shuttle them back and forth from classroom to playground. Well, I suppose a bit of conformity won’t kill Juju—I grew up in this environment for twelve years and I didn’t turn out a characterless communist drone (In fact, at times I’m a bit too free-spirited for Mr. MP). I think Juju will really enjoy going to school again rather than staying home with us and Auntie, starting July.

Hand the $$$ Over, Sucker!

The rent starts at $6,000 a month for a house in an expat community in Beijing. For that much you can rent a beautiful four bedroom-three baths Tudor style house in Atherton, township of ridiculously pricey McMansions. When I asked about hiring domestic help, one woman wrote back saying she pays about $1,800 a month to rent a car with driver from a professional service. Another said she pays her driver $1,000 a month. Obviously these people don’t mind paying the expat-premium. You can hire a driver here for as little as $300 a month, and it’s still a better job than driving a cab.

Some foreigners here are simply conned into paying ridiculous prices. My dad said that one of his colleagues, a Latin American, paid 500 RMB for a cab ride from the airport to city center, and thought it a marvelous bargain! To give you an idea, the right charge should have been about 60 to 70 RMB and that’s including the toll. For 500 RMB you could have had the cab driver take you to Mongolia! The next day he enjoyed a 200 RMB ride to the Summer Palace, a price eye-poppingly exorbitant for a local.

Here I am, laughing at the real expats for being suckers. My mom thinks we are suckers ourselves. Upon hearing that the monthly tuition for Juju’s school was only 2000 RMB (about $300) I almost gasped with delight. When I related that to my mom, she complained that even first-rate nursery schools in Beijing typically charge 700 to 800 RMB ($100) a month and that we will be paying heftily through the nose. She also thinks a cab ride for 60 RMB (about $10) all the way from our place to the city is a small fortune and that we really should just take the subway for 4 RMB (A Taco Bell taco costs more). My parents have been anchored to the locals’ expectation of prices and won’t change their spending habits no matter their income level. Curiously enough, whenever they visit us in the US, they don’t even blink before buying stuff like Crème De La Mer and stuffing their carts full at Whole Foods. Of course they both love stuff in the US; my mom is much more eager to go back to the US than I am.

Never Call A Woman “Miss”

Even though I am a Native speaker of mandarin Chinese and I am originally from China, I still struggle with addressing people by the right title. The Chinese way of addressing people of various positions and occupations is quite complicated. Whenever you talk to an expat in China, they will tell you that their Ayi is like their right arm, someone they can’t live without. An Ayi literally means auntie in Chinese, but has become the synonym for nanny in recent years. For example, if my children saw another mom, they will address her by Ayi, but it does not mean that she’s their nanny. Also, it is used for a nanny of all ages—even an 18-year old nanny would be an auntie. To make my specific situation more confusing, my live-in Ayi is my actual aunt, who is married to one of my mom’s real brothers. We pay her four times what she earns at her former job.

Today, at the police station, I didn’t really know how to address the police woman doing our foreigner registration forms. Then, a man walked in and addressed her as “Big Sister”. It didn’t matter that the man was obviously older than the police woman—it’s a deferential yet intimate way of address someone of authority.

When you hail a cab, call the driver “master”. Don’t call anybody “comrade”—it’s, like, so out!

What you really need to remember, is to never address a young woman by calling her Miss. It used to be a very formal and high-brow way of addressing a woman, but in recent years, the term has been corrupted. It is the euphemism for prostitute these days. Make this mistake, and you’ll never get lucky.

Jujube's Transformation

Jujube has had to deal with a complete life change for the past two months. She flew from Menlo Park to Beijing, had to learn a new language, and now answers to a different nickname preferred by my parents.

In barely two months, she learned to understand mandarin Chinese and can say some simple stuff. What's most astounding is that she can actually sing a verse or two of simple Chinese children's songs. My mom firmly believes that Juju is as smart as they come, and has told me that if Juju doesn't understand something, it's simply because we didn't teach her the right way. Funnily enough, even though I was just as precocious as if not more so than Juju at the same age, my mom always denied that I was smart when I was growing up. She's only very recently admitted somewhat begrudgingly that perhaps I have a few fast-firing neuron myself.

Back to Juju. Since a single syllable in Chinese can carry a lot of meaning, Juju's been able to express herself in simple sentences. However, she has a funny pronunciation. For example, when she means to say little doggie, she says "shiao dao dao", when the right pronunciation is "shiao go go" (小狗狗读成小道道）. She learned to sing "You are my good friend" in Chinese, and when she sees furry little animals she'll quietly sing that to them.

You would think that a little Chinese girl in China shouldn't stand out, but for some reason Juju's an eye-catcher. I'm flattered that many people have commented how cute or pretty she is, but worried at the same time as I don't want her to become enamored with her appearance.

Before I log off, I'd like to make note of one more thing. It is as certain as the sun will rise that Juju is a bona fide, proud badge-wearing, daddy's girl. It is clear that she adores Mr. MP; this is something that was evident ever since she was only a few months old. At the time, one of my aunts had commented that she simply lights up when Mr. MP walks into the room. Whenever Mr. MP and I are both home, Juju will always prefer playing with her daddy to me. When Mr. MP leaves, Juju sometimes looks forsaken. Today, the two of us accompanied Mr. MP to a cab so he could stay at my parents', and after the cab drove off Juju kept asking where Baba was and wanted to walk towards the direction where the cab headed off. As for Mr. MP, Jojo may be his son, but only Juju will ever be his baby.

Shut Your Mouth and Leave Me Alone

Many people in China have this irrepressible urge to delve into lives of others and to offer (often not very helpful) opinions and comments to complete strangers.

This weekend Mr. Mouse Potato and I took Juju and Jojo out for a walk in the housing complex very early in the morning. In a pagoda we saw one old woman and an old man practicing Taichi, and a younger old woman sitting and watching. Jojo, three months of age, was asleep in my Ergo carrier.

Upon seeing us, the younger old woman said in a tone which left little room for doubt, "He is cold not wearing pants so early in the morning." I simply shook my head wordlessly--it was already in the upper 20's Celsius.

The old woman initially thought we didn't speak Chinese, and later I wished I had left her to her belief. When she found out we spoke Chinese, she asked how old the children were. She then dashed over to take a peak at Juju, and commented that we simply spaced the two children way too close together. Then she said very matter of factly that we must be only children ourselves to be able to defy the one-child policy, and I simply uh-huhed to avoid further conversation on this topic or any other.

As if all this wasn't enough, she asked if I had the children at a specific hospital. I didn't want to lie to her, nor did I want to tell her the truth, so I pretended not to hear. However, Mr. MP, ever so honest, told her we had the children in America. Upon this morsel of information, the two women exchanged comments to the extent that in America they let everyone have as many children as they want or that if you were a rich Chinese you can simply buy birth quotas, all said in unflattering tones, right in our faces.

I slowly wandered off as if to appear that our initial intended purpose was to simply pass by so we could escape further scrutiny.

Then, something similar happened today. Auntie and I took the kids out for a walk in the morning, and Juju refused to walk by herself again. She stood in place and repeatedly asked Auntie to pick her up. I told Auntie not to cave in to her no matter what, which made Juju cry with her mouth wide open. An old woman pushing a stroller went by and said, "Stop making her cry", in a you-should-do-as-I-say tone I only tolerate in my mom and my business school professors.

I said, "We are not going to give in just because she cries". The old woman retorted, "You'll make her stressed out by making her cry". I said, "Stressed out child better than spoiled child", in a very adamant tone. You would have thought that she would have gotten the message and f*cked off, but no. She said, "She just wants to act up with her mom".

When it comes to children, my fellow Chinese seem to think that su business es mi business and no question is too personal. Time to develop pachyderm skin if I am to be the parent I want to be to my own damn children.