Getting tattoos in Shenzhen

My tattoos chronicle my life. My milestones, my adventures, my losses they are all there, inked into my flesh as a living reminder of the experiences which forged me. So of course while living in China I wanted to get a tattoo, however I was quite hesitant about actually getting the tattoo here. Sanitation levels in China are, to me, shockingly low. I have issues with the most basic sanitation levels of the most basic of necessities like food and water. So when it came to upper-level sanitation and sterilization standards which I wanted in a tattoo parlor I had great doubts about whether I could find those in mainland China, so we looked across the border to Hong Kong instead. After a brief search we settled on Star Crossed Tattoo and Piercing near TST in Hong Kong.

We visited the shop once to check it out, and being fully satisfied by what we saw put down a deposit and made an appointment. Their hourly charge was a little more than we were hoping to pay, but tattoos are something I’m okay with paying a little extra for (especially considering that to pay less would mean going to a parlor with sub-standard sterilization). Later when I had visa problems and had to reschedule, they were flexible and seemed happy to oblige. And when we finally made it back for our appointments, it was exactly what we had expected: art, pain and permanent memories.

Jack did my tattoo, and though he seemed a bit nervous at first (which made me a bit nervous at first too) he quickly settled into his work. In about two hours he had created an intricate, red paper-cut rooster on my shoulder. Josh’s tattoo was done by Ross (Turpin), a part-owner of Star Crossed Tattoo. The Buddha on Josh’s calf took a little longer than my rooster partially because of the beautiful shading on the Buddha’s belly and the leaves, smoke, fire and water surrounding him.

Our experience with Star Crossed Tattoo was very positive. I would and have recommended it to friends and other tattoo inclined people, and should I have enough money again before I leave China I would go back for seconds or thirds or fourths.

When did washing windows become so dangerous?

Window washer must be one of the most dangerous yet least appreciated jobs in Shenzhen. Window washers get lowered floor by floor from the tops of skyscrapers on nothing more than wooden seats with only a rope tied on to a harness. From the safety of the ground I’ve marveled at this high wire act as they wash, rinse and squeegee the glass of Shenzhen until it sparkles. And as I stop to watch the window washers at work I wonder what the interview is like for this particular position. The skill set needed to complete the task is quite basic, but the personal fortitude needed is off the charts.

Fire Massage

Because nothing says relaxing like fire; though honestly I am quite interested in trying this.

Learning to speak Chinese, or not

My Chinese is shockingly bad. It’s shameful really to be a person who loves travel, who has lived in a foreign country for over a year and yet cannot say more than the most rudimentary of things. I can ask for the bill in a restaurant but I can’t say my address. Actually most of my Chinese is related to food because my nonfunctional kitchen means that I almost always eat out. I can ask for a menu, but I can’t tell you the color of that menu. My Mandarin is limited at best.

I did try to learn the language. I started before we even moved to China by downloading Rosetta Stone (actually my brother downloaded it for me; thanks Walt). Rosetta Stone promises to teach you a language naturally. However, in order to follow RS you must forgo any sense of curiosity and simply follow the program, which I found difficult to do.  I became frustrated because I wanted to know the rules of the language; I wanted to know why. Why was my pronunciation wrong? Why is the number two sometimes said ‘èr’ and other times it’s ‘liăng’? With RS there is no why, there is only do. Really the kicker for me was one level in which a picture of three girls reading books appeared on the screen and try as I might I could not guess what answer RS wanted me to give. The girls are reading…wrong. There are three girls…wrong. The girls are young…wrong. Turns out the answer was, “the girls have no rice.” At that point I decided RS was not for me.

When I arrived in China I hoped that cultural emersion in the language would naturally initiate learning. However, after 6 months all I had learned was “ni chī le ma?” (Have you eaten yet?) and I realized this too was not a productive learning method.

The next step was taking Chinese classes and so Josh and I hired a private teacher and began weekly lessons. While we did learn useful phrases I continued to struggle with the four basic tones in Mandarin. Unlike English which is a stressed-time language, Chinese pronunciation is based on the four tones. Said in the four different tones táng, tàng, tāng and tăng mean sugar, hot, soup and lie down respectively (I think). I blame my tone deaf ear as the partial cause of this problem, and after hours and weeks and months of my Chinese teacher saying “táng, tàng, tāng, tăng” and never ever, ever guessing the correct tone I was utterly discouraged and eventually quit.

Not to sound excuse-y but Mandarin is a fracken hard language. A person needs utter determination to learn it, and more than a lack of language skills I think my lack of motivation (i.e. laziness) contributed to my linguistic failure. When I moved to China I knew the move was temporary, I never intended to spend the rest of my life in Shenzhen. So though I wanted to learn the language for convenience it was never crucial for survival. Within the first month we were able to find work, get an apartment, open a bank account and feed ourselves without learning Mandarin. Also in the southern part of China, especially Shenzhen which is so close to Hong Kong, many people speak at least basic English and most signs are printed in Chinese and English which further negated my need to learn Mandarin. Additionally communication is only partially based on language and where my speaking skills fell behind my body language has been honed to perfection. Now with only a month left my motivation to learn Chinese is nonexistent but not forgotten.

For whatever the reason (or excuse), the fact that I cannot speak the native tongue of the country I reside in has probably been the single most influential factor in coloring my experiences in China. It affects the relationships I’ve built, the opportunities I’ve had, the frustrations I’ve felt, the way I interpret the world around me and of course the blog posts I write.

More than once I’ve heard the critique that because I can’t speak the language I haven’t had a real experience in China (though I’m quick to point out that even Chinese people will tell you that Shenzhen itself isn’t real China). Perhaps this is true, though I’d use the word authentic instead of real because I think what they mean is that my experiences in China don’t reflect a native resident’s experiences. If I was to describe my time here I’d say I had an immigrant’s life in China. And while my experiences have not made me overly fond of Chinese culture (a sliver a regret can be found in that statement) it has made me hyper aware of the struggles of immigrants as they strive to build a life in a city that is utterly foreign to them and that is a very real experience for people not only in China but in my homeland as well. My linguistic shortcomings have also instilled in me a deep respect for my students as they attempt to learn English, and for anyone who can speak multiple languages. In fact in terms of super powers the ability to instantly understand and speak new languages is now for me third only behind invisibility and flight.

So no I can’t speak Chinese. Yes that is a shame. But I do not regret the experiences I’ve had in China simply because they weren’t the experiences I wanted to have pre-trip or could have had if I was a better student. As Douglas Adams said, “I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I’ve ended up where I need to be.”

Smuggling Milk

It’s interesting the things people smuggle across borders in terms of what that implies about the countries whose boundaries have been violated. A recent regulation in China has limited the amount of baby formula allowed across the border from Hong Kong to mainland China. So accordingly the number of hockers selling baby formula outside the train station near the China-Hong Kong border have multiplied. In fact it’s a hot market now in Shenzhen; a whole little black market milk ring is thriving at the Luohu border crossing. What can be said about a country where mothers have to or choose to buy formula out of cardboard boxes at train stations rather than at stores? For me it brings up the ongoing issues with food safety in China and the general distrust many people (both local and foreign) have with Chinese made food products. When I pass through this crowd of formula scalpers it also makes me wonder about what I will be eating later for dinner and how safe that meal will be.

My Favorite Travel Quotes #12

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.

~Mark Twain~

China please stop trying to buy my boyfriend hookers.

Adultery is rampant in China, not that that makes China particularly different than any western country, but compared to America the acceptance this action holds is very different. The acceptance I see in America is closer to forgiveness, like my spouse cheated so I can accept this and move on or leave. In China acceptance translates into something closer to inevitability. Like men cheating is akin to men breathing, it’s a natural action so just accept it.

My boyfriend’s male friends here repeatedly offer to buy him prostitutes; you know nice ones that do everything even shower you after. When he says no thank you to cheating his booty benefactor explains that men have to blow off steam because of all the pressures of work and life. Visiting a prostitute is just a physical act of stress relief and has nothing to do with loving your girlfriend or wife. Women here have continually offered to be Josh’s girlfriend. When he says he’s already got a girlfriend they flirtatiously reply, “Not a Chinese one.”  Additionally, the number of special massage parlors around the city is staggering.

Like spitting, cheating is an aspect of Chinese culture that I haven’t been able to accept (using either definition above). I find it personally disrespectful yet I know it’s not meant as such; rather it’s a weird type of compliment for Josh. Gender equality is a modern notion, a growing notion in China but not a dominant one. One day I believe it might be different, but in the mean time I must say again, China please stop trying to get my boyfriend laid.

Happy birthday here’s a wedding dress

My student bought me a wedding dress. I’m not sure how to take that. I know the reason, actually the two reasons. First she thinks my style is too manly (i.e. I wear pants more often than skirts) so she has taken to giving me clothes more suitable for my gender. I’ve told her repeatedly that her presents are too much, but it’s culturally difficult to refuse a gift in China. She gave me a silk scarf for Christmas, a silk blouse for Woman’s Day, and for my birthday a wedding dress. However, it’s about more than just making me look more feminine. The second reason my student gave me the dress is because she, like most Chinese, think it’s about time for me to get married and have children. At 31 they worry I am missing my chance.

It’s not an unfamiliar opinion back home either, but the difference I see is that back home motherhood is a choice, one of many career choices often done in tandem with other work. Here motherhood seems the sole and singular goal for women; it’s an unspoken expectation that women should be and should want to be wives and mothers.

When people ask me why I’m not married, I bat my eyes and bob my hair and say in a teasing voice, “I’m too young to be married.” It always gets a laugh though I’m being totally serious. Some of the more open-minded students share my notion that marriage and motherhood shouldn’t be a prerequisite but rather a choice. However, they are in the minority. As quickly as China is modernizing and growing, its values and customs remain largely traditional (for the betterment or detriment of the country depending on your opinion).

So I thanked my student for the wedding dress, and promptly put it in storage. It is after all a very nice dress, and my future is full of choices.

Saying goodbye to good food

It’s a wonderful thing when you find food you truly delight in, in a foreign country. It’s a terrible thing when you realize your travels will soon make you leave your food friend behind. This is my friend, Coconut Ball. Coconut Ball has a sweet, vanilla crème center inside a phyllo-esk shell. He’s been dunked in white chocolate then rolled in shredded coconut. He is light yet rich; he is sweet but doesn’t make your teeth ache; he is my taste buds’ new best friend. I’ll be sad to say goodbye to him. Maybe I’ll pack a few in my bag to delay the inevitable or if I’m lucky a specialty Asian market in Denver will stock them. However, odds are that I’m quickly approaching the day when Coconut Ball and I will separate. It will be a melancholy moment in my foodie life.

Personal Space and Skinships

Personal space is nonexistent in China. I blame the population size; there just isn’t enough room for a personal bubble with 1.34 billion people around you. It’s not uncommon at all to sit thigh to thigh with strangers on the subway or to literally feel someone’s front pressed against your back while waiting in line. While I’m not the most touchy-feely of people I’ve come to accept this involuntary physical closeness as part of living in China.

There is one time though when it really upsets me, and that’s when I’m actually upset and I’m trying to nonverbally show my displeasure but nobody notices. For example, when someone gets off the escalator directly in front of me then abruptly stops. Perhaps I will firmly bump into them to alert them to the fact that there are people behind them and they should move to the side (since my Mandarin skills don’t allow me to do it verbally). However, because physical contact is an utterly common part of daily life they take no notice of the bump and continue to block the way.

And if the physical distance between strangers is close, the space between friends is even closer. It is not uncommon to see two male friends walking down the street with their arms draped over each other’s shoulders. On several occasions my female students have held my hand while walking to class, and I often see women shopping arm in arm. There is no sexual component to the physical contact as homosexuality is still very taboo and would never be flaunted so openly in Shenzhen. Also this closeness among plutonic friends is always male to male or female to female, never across the sexes because that would imply some sort of sexual relationship. Recently a fellow foreigner taught me a new vocabulary word to describe these same-sex friendships that are physically intimate yet decisively a-sexual: skinships. I believe if my friend Mariah was here she’d say these skinships are good for me as she has been trying to shrink my personal bubble since the day we met. Though I don’t think I’ll ever be a skinship kind of friend, I do enjoy watching my boyfriend (who is as equally as anti-touch as I) squirm under the close and constant contact.