Kristin Bair O'Keeffe: Writer. Mom. Teacher. Traveler.

We Pause in the Regularly Schedule Programming for...A TRIP TO BORNEO

Whoop! Whoop!

Those of you who've been looking for the regularly scheduled blog entries (Travel Tuesday: Writing the Far-Flung Life, Women Rock Wednesday, etc.) and my normal musings on writing, China, life, etc., thanks for checking in.

But...right now I'm lying on the beach in Borneo (well, actually, right now I'm in my hotel room, but a few hours ago, I was on the beach, and in another hour or so, I'll be on the beach again. And, of course, with a two-year-old there is much "lying on the beach" going on...mostly I'm chasing Tully, digging in the sand, chasing Tully...get the picture. It's lovely.)

Last week we were in China suffering a case of "too much, too many" (too much noise, too many people, too much traffic, too much smog, too many ____). So before one of us (hubby or I) began to exhibit bad expat behavior, we did what it takes to love our second home (China) again...we got out. It's like that sometimes.

Nothing a week in Borneo won't cure. :)

Here's a peek at our current digs.

Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh.

The South China Sea.

Ooh, this is gooooddddd.

Who's ready for the beach?

Travel Tuesday: Writing the Far-Flung Life (Chinese New Year: The World's Largest Human Migration)

What are we doing in China this week?

Writing?

Always.

Practicing our characters?

Heck no! We're getting ready for Chinese New Year...the national holiday when nearly every single person in China travels to her home province for the celebration of the lunar new year...yep, nearly every single person...which makes this holiday the world's largest human migration. (I'm going to head up to the train ticket office up my street tomorrow and take some photos...the line is crazy long!)

Even though the New Year doesn't officially begin until Saturday, February 14, folks have already started to leave Shanghai by the trainload. Believe it or not, something like 25.63 million passengers will leave or come to Shanghai this year by rail, plane, bus, or ship (Shanghai Daily). 

25.63 million people.

Want to join them? Maybe by train? Here...try this one. Looks comfy, huh? You know, for a cross-country trip in China.

 

Or maybe this train?

While you absorb those numbers and stare at those photos, let me remind you writers out there that holidays, festivals, and rituals are terrific fodder for articles, essays, and stories. If you're writing about a far-flung place, investigate.

Here in China, as we move closer and closer to the Year of the Tiger, I'll be sharing a good bit about the celebrations, rituals, and traditions go along with it.

But right now, I'm going to go hang my New Year decorations (including a tiger on the door). Photos to come.

QUESTION OF THE WEEK: Far-flung writers: Where are you living? Traveling to? What rituals, celebrations, traditions take your attention?

Travel Tuesday: Writing the Far-Flung Life (Me + New Place = ?)

Okay, all you far-flung writers, need a jumping off point for a new essay? Here goes:

When you:

• are transplanted in a new country
• are launched out of your comfort zone
• are separated from those you love by expansive oceans and thousands of miles
• are incapable of communicating with those around you because you don't speak the language
• spend minutes/hours/days pantomiming even the simplest nouns (and feel like a cross between an intrepid explorer and a complete ass every time you do it)
• struggle to interpret new cultural cues

you inevitably ask the question...

Me + (New Place) = ?

You can't help it. It's human nature. We're driven to define ourselves in relation to our surroundings. Especially those of us who are writers.

The first time I asked myself this question was back in October 2006, about six months after I'd moved from the United States to Shanghai, China. I was back in the U.S. on my first trip home and was feeling completely overwhelmed by the number of choices I faced in the cereal aisle at the grocery store and a number of other things. I wrote about it here (at my old blog).

Since then, I've mulled over this very question again and again...verbally and in my head...but I haven't yet (re-)tackled it on the page. It's time...I feel it coming. The distillation of who I am in China.

And you? Have you tackled this question in your writing?

Me + (New Place) = ?

If not, give it a shot. It has all the makings of a great essay.

If so, what was your answer?

Travel Tuesday: Writing the Far-Flung Life (Finding Your Own Chicken Man)

When you're writing about a far-flung life, your job is to get readers to see what you see. Remember, many readers have never been to the place or had the experience you are describing...and many never will. So...lure them in. 

How?

The #1 Way to Lure Readers In...

• Write About The Things That Interest You: Don't worry about trying to figure out what readers want to know. Follow your own heart...your own eye. If you're intrigued, your readers will be intrigued. If you're not intrigued, readers will close your book/article/essay halfway through and not pick it up again. Horror of all horrors.

(Example: If you're traveling in Milan, Italy, you may be captivated by the spires on the Duomo. Lots of folks are. If so, dig in and have at it. But maybe you don't give two hoots about the spires [or anything else] on the Duomo. Maybe you're more intrigued by the wacky folks who like to get the 1.22 million pigeons in the piazza to land on their heads for photo opps or the cranky old woman who sold you a strawberry tart. If that's the case, write about the pigeon people or the cranky old woman. Forget the Duomo and its spires.)

As for me, I'm rarely intrigued by the "big stuff." Sure, Shanghai's Oriental Pearl Tower is cool and interesting, and yup, the World Expo is coming to our fair city in May, but I'm drawn to smaller moments. Like the Chicken Man! He's one of my favorite characters in my neighborhood, and just this morning, my daughter and I ran into him on our street. (Okay, okay, I admit it, we were out looking for him...as we often are.) We were lucky enough to happen upon him just as a customer was picking out his chicken. Check it out.

The Chicken Man on the left. A discerning customer on the right.

"How about this chicken?" says the Chicken Man.

"No, I like this chicken," says customer, taking matters (and a chicken) into his own hands.

"Why does this crazy laowai (me) follow me around Shanghai taking pictures of me?" says the Chicken Man. "She must have thousands of pictures of me now."

And the Chicken Man kills and defeathers the chicken right there and then.

I tell ya what...he's good at it, too. He can kill and defeather a chicken faster than I can pick out a package of drumsticks at the grocery store.

This is the hard part...friends looking on.

Ta-da! Dinner!

WRITERS CHALLENGE: I haven't yet written a formal piece about the Chicken Man, but I know that eventually he will work his way into an essay or memoir. Your challenge this week? Find your own Chicken Man. In whatever place you're writing about, choose a person who intrigues you. Then write about him/her. A paragraph...a page...whatever it takes to see him/her clearly.

Me & the Panda in Chengdu

A few years ago I headed to Chengdu, China, to commune with the pandas. For a ridiculous fee, you could get your photo taken with one. I've got a thing about pandas so I stood in the photo line FOREVER behind the other 1.4 billion people who inhabit China. Just as I got behind the panda and set my hand on his back, the lady in charge stepped close to me and said something like, "When pandas get tired, they can attack." Then she stepped away.

Here's me and the panda:

HO HO HO...FA LA LA LA LA!!!

See?

Told ya I'd get to the fa la la'ing!

To be honest, it is not nearly as easy to get into the Christmas spirit in Shanghai as it is back home in the U.S. or Ireland, but we do our best.

Here, in our buzzing Asian metropolis, the fancy hotels decorate their lobbies, Nanjing Road sports a GIGANTIC gold Christmas tree (and a weird GIGANTIC gold rose...related?), I heard Bruce Springsteen singing "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town" at my favorite coffee shop, and I can even buy poinsettias on most street corners...see?

A few weeks ago, Tully sat on Santa's lap and was given a really cool (gender neutral) medical kit that has introduced into our home the daily ritual of taking everyone's blood pressure (including McGillicutty the Gorilla).

And we've partied and frolicked at a variety of Christmas parties...

But the thing that FINALLY stirred up the Christmas spirit in me?

Making peanut blossom cookies! A tradition in our family...and my favorite cookie.

(Of course, our family tradition has never included baking the cookies with an amazingly competent, incredibly sweet Filipina ayi...and then having someone to clean up the mess...but some changes to tradition are welcome, right?)

So Merry Christmas, world!

Or as we say in Shanghai, Sheng dan kuai le!

They Freed the Plum Pudding!!!!!

Last week, my husband and I got word that our family in Ireland had sent the annual Christmas basket of goodies, including, of course, plum pudding! Whoo-hoo!!!!

Then we got word that the Customs Dept in China was holding it for investigation.

Boo! Boo! (the crowd goes mad!)

And THEN we got word that they weren't going to release it until...what?

• First, an investigation into the contents. (cookies, brandy butter, plum pudding, Christmas cake...yum)

• Second, completion of an official (rather lengthy) form...in Chinese. (Shout out to the secretary at my husband's office for filling it in for us!)

• Third, cash. (Yup, knew that one was coming, didn't ya?)

So, after the Customs folks cracked open the beautiful box in which the goods were packed (and I mean cracked!), studied the contents, received the form, and yup, palmed the cash, we got the goods delivered!

So a big thanks to everyone in Ireland. Makes China feel a little homier at the holidays.

Here's a little peek...

 

Boys Against the Girls: Toy Store Triumphs in Gender Petrification

As a mom to an almost 2-year-old daughter, I think a lot about how to raise a strong, independent, adventurous, curious, self-assured, creative, loving, smart girl who will eventually become a woman. I think about my choices, my actions, my words...because I know from experience that that is how I learned the most from my mom...by watching, absorbing, listening, feeling.

Even though Tully is just 22.5 months old, I know already that raising a strong, independent, adventurous, curious, self-assured, creative, loving, smart daughter is not going to be easy. I watch my sister and friends and strangers doing their best with it...sometimes succeeding beautifully and other times falling flat on their faces.

I'm sure I will do the same.

But last weekend, I witnessed something that reminded me that the world isn't always supportive of my goal to raise a strong, independent, adventurous, curious, self-assured, creative, loving, smart daughter. In fact, in some ways, it may even be fighting me on this goal.

What prompted all this?

I went Christmas shopping at Toys R Us in Shanghai.

In the "Girls" area of the store, this is what I saw:

In the "Boys" area of the store, this is what I saw:

Um, HELLO?????? How am I supposed to raise a strong, independent, adventurous, curious, self-assured, creative, loving, smart daughter when the entire "Girls" area of the store is hot pink and filled with ironing boards, washing machines, dolls, and cooking sets? While the "Boys" area of the store (aka "Action and Adventure") is filled with action- and adventure-related toys? Cool stuff.

Why is this wrong?

Because pigeon-holing girls into this "pink, house-wifey" role shapes their self-images, their imaginations, and their ability to consider all the crazy, wonderful, innovative possibilities for their lives. While many toys encourage boys to imagine themselves as swashbuckling explorers or inventors, many toys encourage girls to imagine themselves as...as...house tenders. How is that fair? (And no, readers, I don't think that tending a house is a bad thing. It's an important part of how we manage our lives...and anyone who can run a household deserves respect...male or female. But come on...girls need as much of a chance to dream about their lives as boys.)

And to turn the situation on its head, what about little boys who want a washing machine from Santa? Boys who think it's fun to wash clothes? How will they feel when they open a pink washing machine in a box marked "Girls Only" (see top left corner of box in photo above)? I mean, if a toy store MUST sell a washing machine for kids, why not sell a cool, silvery blue one in a gender-neutral part of the store set up to make both boys and girls feel comfortable?

Boys or girls...this kind of stereotypical gender marketing doesn't work for anyone.

I shouldn't be shocked at this, right? I've been in Toys R Us before; I've seen the differences between the "Girls" section and the "Boys" section. I'm not clueless to the fact that this kind of gender petrification goes on. But this is the first year that I've really shop-shopped for Christmas presents for Tully. Last year she was a baby; Santa brought rubber-bottomed socks, books, and stuffed animals.

But I am shocked. And irked. How long are we going to nurture girls in this traditional housecleaning, button-sewing, soup-stirring role? (Don't even get me started on the princess myth...)

Gggggrrrrrr...

Of course, I had to laugh because at first my husband thought this was a "China" thing. That only toy stores in China were marketing toys this way.

He couldn't believe (and still isn't quite convinced, I suspect) that this kind of "pink, housewifey marketing" goes on in toy stores in the U.S. as well. (After all, many of the toys in Shanghai's Toys R Us are intended for the U.S. market...there's not even any Chinese writing on much of the packaging. All English.)

The thing that irks me even further is that we (the West) are teaching the Chinese about gender petrification and "pink, housewifey marketing." Although China has a long tradition of assigning value to boys and girls in significant ways, it is still in its infancy stage of consumerism and is not yet a "stuff" culture. The segment of the population with extra cash for toys from fancy stores like Toys R Us is small but growing rapidly. These folks are hungry for the "stuff" we "rich" folks from the West have...like pink washing machines marked "Girls Only" for our daughters. (Ironically, the majority of people in China don't even have a washing machine in their home.) And we, being the great leaders of consumption that we are, are showing them how it's done.

What I want to know is, when the heck will it be done differently? In China or the U.S.? Anywhere?

* * *

Related Article in The Guardian: The Power of Pink

Confession: I Bought a Pirated Book in China

Two days ago, the "pirated book" woman was on our corner. She's often there alongside the flower lady 
and the orange seller, with a suitcase of pirated books propped open on the back of her scooter.

Usually I walk right by. The "copy culture" in China makes me nuts. You can buy a copy of ANYTHING here: Rolex watches, Gucci bags, Jimmy Choo shoes, movies, iPhones, computers, cutlery, toys, wallets, pearls, strollers...ANYTHING. I swear sometimes I think I'm going to walk into a market and discover a copy of myself on sale for RMB 5 (about 60 cents).

Anyway, two days ago curiosity got the better of me. As I walked past the suitcase, a well-dressed, English-speaking Chinese man was picking through the books.

"She has everything," he said when he caught my eye. Dan Brown and Stephanie Meyer were on top of the pile. "Have to help keep the poor folks fed," he said, handing over his money.

So I stopped, looked through the piles of books, and bought a pirated copy of Elizabeth Gilbert's Stern Men. (Sorry, Elizabeth!)

What did I pay for a pirated copy of Elizabeth Gilbert's Stern Men?

RMB 15  = $2.20

This was a much higher price than the Chinese guy had paid for his book, but I expected that. I'm a laowai (foreigner) and all prices start higher for foreigners. Sure, I could have bargained the woman down and gotten the book for less than $1. After all we bargain for most everything in China: clothes dryers, flowers, furniture, etc. But honestly, I felt too damn guilty to bargain. I'm an author; I believe in protecting intellectual property; I discourage other laowais from doing exactly what I was doing.

But like I said, I was curious, and I knew this was a one-off. So without a word, I coughed up my RMB 15, hid the book in my jacket, ducked my head, and headed home. 

Once in the safety of my apartment, I checked out the book. It's a
copy of a Penguin edition, and the only difference I can find between the copy and an original is that on the back of the book above the ISBN #, there are six Chinese characters. I can only read one of them so I don't know what it says. Other than that, the paper is a decent stock, the jacket copy doesn't have any misspellings, and the pages are numbered correctly.

Will I read it?

Probably not. It just feels wrong.

Corpse

Yesterday I saw a dead man in Shanghai. On the street just a block away from my apartment. Minutes before I drove past in our minivan, he'd been knocked from his scooter by a car. The scooter was mangled...almost unrecognizable. Just a bunch of metal pieces scrambled on the road. Everything but the handlebars...I don't know where they'd landed.

The car that had hit the man must have been flying. But all cars here fly. Driving is a relatively new phenomenon in China and few do it well, consciously, or with care. There is no right of way for pedestrians and they (we) are at the mercy of every wheeled vehicle in Shanghai. No one wears a seat belt, uses a car seat for a child, or dons a helmet. People drive backwards on the highway when they've missed an exit, zigzag between lanes as if they don't exist, pull over for a piss when there's no shoulder, and drive at Indy 500 speeds. It is a ridiculous free-for-all.

The police had gotten to the scene and were trying to direct traffic. But everyone was slowing for a look at the corpse--cars, buses, scooters, bicycles, and pedestrians. All gawking and clogging up the already clogged-up road.

When we first saw the man, my driver Mr. C made a small noise in his throat and caught my eye in the rear-view mirror. Though I suspect he's used to seeing this kind of thing, he knows I never will be.

The dead man?

He looked rather peaceful despite the chaos around him. He was lying on his back with his left hand on his chest and his right arm stretched straight out as if saying, "Go that way."

"Why don't they cover him?" I said in English. Then to Mr. C, "Youguai." Turn right. I didn't want to pass any closer to the man than we had to. The guy had enough of an audience.