First step of Faith

In the new China -- Christianity isn't illegal...but evangelization is. As we chat in language classes, my teachers talk about horoscopes...lucky numbers...how your blood type can determine what type of person you are. I sit quietly and try to get a better perspective on what being Chinese really means.

Priests in China call themselves "teacher" and instead of Mass they organize a "party". To go to a Mass sanctioned by the Vatican (the Chinese Catholic church is under the government), you must go to a service at another country's embassy...and show a passport to prove you're not a Chinese citizen.

I joined a rosary/prayer group (called a cell) -- and met a wonderful group of new friends of faith...many of whom live in the same apartment complex as us. They're all from the Philippines and Malaysia. They love my name Ning...it makes me one of the girls!

First, we sing the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy. It's the same service from EWTN (Eternal Word Television Network -- the global Catholic satellite station) I used to watch every day before work back in Peoria! Then we lift up specific intentions and pray the rosary together. I was moved when one woman specifically prayed for husbands on business trips -- John is having his own adventure here in Asia.

Last night my new friends invited me to their apartment to watch the tennis match! It was like being back in the dorm in college. I actually yelled Hooray after they called -- We had a marvelous time drinking a glass of wine together.

Every day is different...every day I learn something new.

Mama hoo hoo

Sadly, Mama hoo hoo isn't my new Chinese name -- it really means, "so so".

But it's one of the reasons I'm in love with the Mandarin language. I answer, "mama hoo hoo" to as many questions as possible from my Berlitz teachers.

How are you? Mama hoo hoo. How was lunch? Mama hoo hoo. But after all these wish washy answers, they finally taught me the word for wonderful -- and it's fun, too -- Bang!

A bus is gong gong chi che. My younger brother Joe is didi. Darling Madeline (when she's not calling me Ning) could call me lou lou (which means granny from my mother's side).

My language classes have given me an unexpected benefit -- I've gotten to know a lot of smart, young Chinese people. We study hard...but we laugh a lot. I begged them to teach me to say to a taxi driver, "If you abandon me again, I'm going to punch you in the nose!"

This morning I went to a seminar called "Inspired Beijing" -- designed for expat-spouses. The women there seemed nice, but I was immediately drawn to the one young Chinese woman in the room... Laushe -- teacher

A key element of Chinese culture is not looking silly (losing face) or making mistakes. But my life is an endless mistake -- fumbling for words...getting lost in taxis...not knowing what the hell I'm eating...

One of my Chinese teachers (her name is Jing Jing because she was born in Beijing), has this charming way of explaining a clause or sentence -- she'll say the word and then go, blabity blabity blabity to fill in the gaps. Thank God I finally realized it wasn't new vocabulary!

I watch a lot of Chinese music videos (Asian MTV). Songs are slower than when people speak. I adore Chinese boy bands (shades of "New Kids on the Block" with a lot more hair gel). I thought I was really improving my comprehension until I realized that they often throw in a few English words! I even find myself humming the tunes...

When folks in China realize that I'm trying to speak Mandarin (I'm still that bad...), at first they're shocked...they often laugh...then help me correct my tones.

Everyone in China is my Laushe.

Technology Ning

Many of you might think I'm only learning Chinese over here in Beijing -- but I've also had a lot of technology adventures!

Getting our computers set up -- learning how to use a digital camera (a baby step most folks have taken already) -- getting our new tiny Chinese .mp3 players to work -- and finally, getting a cell phone!

The cell phone experience was crazy -- my only requirement was red color (hongse). My friend Joanne took me to the store -- I had a bemused expression as the Chinese language swirled around me. Our beloved (late) dog Ruby often had the same look, "I don't know what's going on -- but I'm certainly interested" as she watched us work in the kitchen...

I became truly Chinese because I paid extra for a phone number that had good mojo (numbers are very important here...). Mostly because I thought the numbers sounded fun in Chinese:

6 6 0 6 0

leo, leo, ling, leo, ling

My other technology adventure -- a word processing program that allows me to write in pinyin (the phonetic, romanized version of Chinese) with the correct marks for tones. It's time for me to keep notes!

Technology Ning!

Sheer Beauty -- Sheer Terror

Beijing is cold. Icy cold. Freeze you to your bones cold. So an ice show is perfect.

John and I went to a snow and ice sculpture event in the mountains outside of Beijing. It was incredible...and even had fireworks. But even gazing at ice can have it's challenges.

As we wandered among the sculptures, we saw folks entering another area and marched through. I noticed we were entering the mouth of a dragon...


We started taking escalators...up, up ... again up...up yet again -- over 8 (steep!) in all.

Finally, it hit us -- our guide had discussed an ice slide down the mountain. Our eyes widened in terror ... and we noticed the only folks with us were teen-age Chinese boys! Perfect ice sliders!

We got to the top and desperately tried to explain that we did NOT want to go down an ice slide. Bu yeo! Bu yeo! Bu FLIPPING yeo! I don't want to...I don't want to -- I REALLY DON'T WANT TO!

No one understood us -- and there was no way out. The boys hunkered down, entered a little door, and began to scream. We looked at each other with horror. We noticed a tiny old woman -- and thought in a panic, "Are they going to fling granny down the slide, too??!!" We figured if she could do it, we could, too. And anyway, there was no option.

So we entered the door. We were on top of a sheer drop (a dam in the gorge) of over 500 feet. Straight down. In the night air we could see the ice sculptures far at the bottom. I began to make animal noises of terror...John grabbed my hand. We shuffled along the ridge...in granny's footsteps...and got across. What part of bu yeo do you think they didn't understand??

When we reached the other side, we realized we weren't headed for the slide of death...instead, we were walking into another display area. But we were grateful for every downward incline... we kept expecting to be forced to slide.






We ended the night in a Chinese restaurant...we were the only weiguoren (foreigners...). As we ordered our beers (we deserved it!), we could hear the boys at the next table making fun of our language... sigh...

The adventure that is China!

So Why Aren't We Thinner...?

Beijing is a wonderful place for food ... if you know what to order -- and how to eat it.


We're getting the chopsticks thing down -- though we're not completely skilled. And even pointing at photos on a menu doesn't always work...we usually end up with a beige, bubbling cauldron of who knows what.

Our second visit to the Hot Pot restaurant was wonderful -- it was less crowded and the manager wanted to practice his English. So he came over and actually put the stuff in the pot -- and showed us how to use the broth as soup after everything was done. And this time, we knew enough to avoid the pig blood patties (which even most Chinese folks don't eat...)

Our next step was to try to learn the Mandarin phrase for "please just bring us something good to eat -- what's most popular" which sadly doesn't work because it makes the waitress uncomfortable. The other confusing thing is that most restaurants have their own signature dishes...so if you find something you love...you can't simply order it again and again.

Maybe we're fat because of my strange addiction to odd flavored Pringles chips...shrimp flavor...cucumber flavor...spicy pork. Or perhaps it's the cocktails that are required at the end of a day of intensive language training...

I hope versus I will ...

Every morning as I go to Mandarin language class, I squeeze into an elevator with Chinese people -- more than you think could possibly fit.

Today, for the first time, there was another foreigner -- weiguogen --next to me. He said, "Berlitz? Teacher or student?". I gasped, "Student...I hope I can learn Mandarin." He responded, "There's no hope involved -- you either do or you don't".

You either do or you don't.

I sucked in my breath, went to class and spent two hours being drilled on What -- How -- Which -- Where -- What time -- Who. The most fundamental basics...not unlike the multiplication tables we learned in 3rd grade.

I choose do.

I'm amazed at the patience and kindness of my professors (Laushe). Repeating things again and again. Correcting my pronounciation -- again and again.

Mandarin is less like a language and more like a song.

There's a beautiful symetry and poetry to the words. The grammar makes sense. There are no verb tenses. You start to see how words are built -- a cell phone is a hand machine...an airplane is a flying machine...with the same base. You can almost see how the characters come together.

On the left is the character for rabbit -- you can see the animal!

But pronouciation and tone are key. Imagine saying the word apple in three different ways:

apple APple apPLE

In English, those are all the same word... In Mandarin, you've just encompased an entire dictionary...it could be a verb...it could be a noun...it could be an adjective.

But the poetry! One of my professors first name means "pillar of nations" and his girlfriend is "small shining light"...

I love this language. And even as I bumble through, people are kind...and help me at every turn.

I do want to learn it.

Cooking in the Hutong

John plunged into his job today... with a trip within China. It made me realize what a wonderful time this has been...learning about China together...sharing Mandarin language training.

And now our lives begin. We live in China.

So what is my life going to look like? The language training is wonderful -- so exciting! But that's just the beginning.

So I signed up for a cooking class in a historic area of Beijing --in a traditional Chinese home called a Hutong.

Back home, this would be easy...here in China, it took every ounce of courage I have...courage to take a cab (we're always ending up in the wrong spot...abandoned). Courage to meet a whole new group of people -- alone. Things I took for granted back in the US feel like a huge success here.

It was a great night -- a cooking class with 14 people...we divided into 7 teams and each made a dish that was judged! I was older than everyone else by about 20 years... (I didn't realize what "Hook and Cook" really meant...) but it was great fun!

We drank wine...created a song about our dish, "I'm a little clay pot, full of pork..." And most importantly, my matchmaking skills were in high demand!

I met some terrific girls who reminded me of darling Andi. And a guy from Toronto!

My goal is to meet everyone in Canada -- there are about 4 million more people in Beijing alone than in the whole country of Canada!

I AM a Chinese claypot!