Asian Chronicles-7

Asian Chronicles 7 - Suzhou => Shanghai

Suzhou was built with new money. It is a manufacturing town grown from the plain, watered by international joint ventures, and sprouted through the ant-like labors of the Chinese proletariat marching ten-by-ten toward middle class.

All the major players are there: Apple, BMW and Boeing, Nike and North Face and countless others. 

Condo-farms have risen on the plain, 

to house the laborers 

that work the factories 

to make the products

that prod consumers

in the economy that Joint Ventures built. 

And cars... 

On this sprouted plain, 

With no place to go ‘cept crossing Suzhou, 

Get out of the way, their blaring horns say.

Remember Suzhou was named Venice of the Orient for all its canals? Like Venice and Bangkok, people and goods were moved via the waterways. Not long ago, they confiscated a major canal for the new subway line, to ease congestion. The subway has disrupted cross-flow water traffic, moving water traffickers to the streets, exacerbating congestion. We call this progress.

Our Holiday Inn, just one block from the Grand Canal, was built with new money - and new features that new money might desire - like all-glass bathrooms. From the main part of the room, the line of sight was through the glass shower, past the sink, to the toilet. What the Hell? You have got to be kidding me! 

I hunted frantically for a button that MUST lower a shade. There must be something! Oh this is not going to go well for Lael and Collin, I thought, brother and sister sharing a room. I found a button that lowered a privacy shade. Whew!

Suzhou is the home of fried rice - that beloved combination of rice, vegetables, and meat. It is a fast, one-dish meal popularized by Chinese immigrants working fields and railroads of the western US.

Chinese people say you want to be: 

Born in Suzhou

Play in Hangzhou

Eat in Guangzhou

And die in Liuzhou.

Why?

Born in Suzhou - because it is home to many great scholars and excellent education.

Play in Hangzhou - for its beautiful scenery on the SE coast of China.

Eat in Guangzhou - historically known as Canton. Need I say more?

And die in Liuzhou - known for its camphor trees and artisan caskets.

Before we leave Suzhou, let me expound on the facilities. Most of China’s antiquities date back hundreds, if not thousands of years. They have been retro-fit with toilets - most commonly squatty-pottys. During times of heavy use (say... a week long national holiday) the facilities are completely overwhelmed - as are the janitorial staff. 

While the Chinese feel squatty-pottys are more sanitary because they don’t touch anything, my experience was anything but. Most often, I stood in urine to use the potty and then tracked urine on my soles. Auwe! One of our drivers kept a bleach-soaked towel covering the first step into the bus - so that every entering sole was daubed in disinfectant. 

I more fully understand why Asians remove their shoes when entering the home, why wearing shoes inside is an affront and considered both rude and disrespectful. 

Another squatty-potty hint: control your flow to decrease splashing, lest you wear urine on more than your soles. I’m just sayin’ ...

After breakfast we boarded our bus and crawled onto the freeway bound for Shanghai, stopping once again at the midway rest-stop selling teriyaki chicks and duck tongue.

The guide book read: “The largest city in China, Shanghai contains the most striking blend of oriental and western cultures. Originally Shanghai was a seaside fishing village, today it is a multi-cultural metropolis - the largest city in China” where real estate sells for 20,000 USD per square meter and the average Lamborghini buyer is 29 years of age.

They say the best husbands are found in Shanghai. Why? At the early morning market, shoppers are 80% men who shop, cook, and clean. But of course! The 29 year-old Lamborghini owner who can afford a condo at $20,000 per square meter is a WOMAN!

Our first Shanghainese stop was a tea house. Not the open-air, open-beamed, countryside structures with rice-paper screens, low wooden tables and benches, run by an ancient inn keeper and his wife and protected by kung-fu warriors. No, this was a modern facility that turned out $100+ wheels of tea for tourists. The “induction room” of these state-run stores are nearly identical. Low slung benches line the walls and fill the middle of the room. Young women linger at the front, readying for the demonstration.  

Tea cups were nestled, spooning in a large circular bowl and were bathed in hot water from a steaming tea pot - to warm and clean them while our hostess began her pitch. She was a tiny woman, maybe 90-pounds, in a tight, full length, silk skirt with matching shell that flaunted her flat tummy and petite figure. I expected her to dance at any moment.

“You dink tea?” she asked, “I dohn sink so,” she waggled a finger back and forth, “Or yahw belly smahw like us.” She giggled, covering her mouth shyly. (If you are a portly American - expect chiding for your belly across all of China.) “Gheen (green) tea,” (remember, southern Chinese have difficulty with the letter R, it is not in their alphabet. My Popo always called me Loli.) “Gheen tea no fahmentation (fermentation). Oolong tea fity pahsent (50%) fahmentation. Black tea 100 pahsent fahmentation.” Her enunciation was slow and precise. “Why Chinese peepoh can smoke and keep vey good heoht (health)? Because Chinese peepoh exahcize ehvey day and we dink tea and we sing-a-song to detox owh body. Dybeetee looking foh yawh beeg belly.” She covered her mouth with a tiny hand and giggled again.

And while she is 100 pahsent correct about dybeetee looking foh yawh beeg belly, she apparently missed the memo that liver and lung cancers are the leading cause of death in China - unusual by western standards - but we will discuss that later.

“Slow tea good foh yawh leevah. Fähst (first) taste beetah (bitter), then sweet in yawh thwoat (throat).” They poured the first round of tea and it was indeed bitter with a sweet aftertaste. “Beetah taste weduce (reduce) leevah heat, good foh yawh heoht.

Then came the lesson in to properly hold a tea cup. Hold the teacup between thumb and index finger. Support the bottom with the middle finger. When drinking, use the middle finger to tilt the teacup. Notice the cup tilts, not the head. Ladies: splay the 4th and 5th fingers. Men: keep 4th and 5th fingers together. “Guhl-man index fingah point up, foh and fyh fingah (4 & 5 finger) like dis,” she demonstrated, splaying her 4th and 5th fingers before covering her mouth to giggle again.  Alrighty then!

“Peoh tea (I thought pure tea; we would later learn it is pu’er - pronounced pyuh-éhr - tea is a slimming tea) get wid (rid) of yawh beeg belly - like you and you and you,” she pointed at some of our men, her finger stabbing in their direction.

“I’ll buy the tree,” Roy volunteered to our guffaws. 

Drink it hot for slimming, she instructed, cold with salt for poo-poo. “You know poo-poo?” she asked. When everyone laughed, she covered her mouth. “Use tea leaf eight time, then mix leaf with egg-white to make skin white in two week.” She made small circles with small hands to demonstrate smoothing the concoction over her face. 

“You Uncle,” she pointed to golf-addicted and deeply tanned Stan, “You take two yeah!” Stan’s face broke into a wide smile while his shoulders bobbed in laughter. No measure of tea and egg whites would ever turn Stan white.

Pu’er tea is thought to lower triglycerides, raise good (HDL) cholesterol and lower bad (LDL) cholesterol. In February 2012, Dr. Oz recommended drinking several cups of pu’er tea each day to aid in weight loss.

Pu’er tea is a black tea that undergoes microbial fermentation and oxidation after the leaves are dried and rolled. Western black tea is called red tea in China. So this black tea is a completely different. It undergoes gradual fermentation and maturation over time and its price is commiserate with age. Hence, this tea is labelled with year and region of production and at the tea factory - cost 100 USD per wheel.

Tea take home messages: Black tea needs to breathe - hence the use of tea caddies for black tea storage. Green teas are not fermented and will stay fresh longer in an airtight container. You’ve seen the tiny and ornate Chinese teapots? Make tea in a tiny teapot, add hot water as needed, after eight times, use the leaves for your face (or garden). Lastly, “No buy tea in bag. Dey put wuhst (worst) tea in bag. Buy loose tea.”

The afternoon was spent at City God Temple, an outdoor shopping mall and replica of an ancient city, built up around a functioning temple. Loo-Loo took the ladies several blocks away to a low slung building with a side, alleyway entrance. We ducked-down through the doorway into their hideaway - a windowless room compressed by low ceiling, and shelf-lined walls displaying knock-off, designer handbags: Michael Kors, Gucci, Dooney & Bourke, Louis Vuitton, Prada, Dolce Gabbana, et al.

“The color is off,” Lael said, her face lined with disgust, “And the hardware is wrong. I’m not buying a fake bag but why would you even want a bad fake bag?” 

We made our way back to City God Temple and I wandered it’s alleys and streets alone. As I gazed through a shopkeepers window admiring the beautiful teapots and cups, a man sidled up to me.

“Lady, you like tea? Come wit me, I have bettah one. I give you good plice lady.” 

I shook my head and waved him off, “No thank you.” I moved to the next window and he followed me, pestering and imploring. 

“Come lady, come. I give you spehshow plice foh nice one!”

“Don’t go,” Derek spoke in my head. “People will ask you; don’t go because when dey close dat door, no one know where you are.”

I had just finished Amy Tan’s book, Saving Fish from Drowning, about a hapless group of foolish San Franciscans who did just that - accepted an invitation and were swallowed into the Burmese jungle.

He walked abreast and sometimes two steps ahead, beckoning past three shops until I stepped into a tobacco vendor to rid myself of him.

“I saw you walking alone,” Kevin said when I rendezvoused with the younguns drinking beer, “I thought you were brave.” ... or foolish.

The locals ate soft-shelled crab from swirling, steaming vats. Hot crabs, eaten shells and all, were shared by families to the same gleeful exclamations American kids make for ice cream.

“I don’t get this,” Lael said quietly, “We have 45-minutes in the Suzhou Museum but three-hours in a tourist trap?” Amen sister!

That night we assembled in a tightly packed, windowless, wooden theater to watch a performance by the Shanghai Acrobats. The theater was dimly lit, the stairs to our seats, steep. This place is a fire with countless fatalities - waiting to happen. It made me nervous.

DIGRESSION: China has little sensibility or sensitivity for the disabled. The Chinese government is focused on bringing the country into the industrial age through productivity. Those that cannot be productive fall through the cracks. And while the aged are venerated in Asian cultures, there are few concessions made for them. Our tour guides had no sense for it either, for if they did; they would purchase seats with easier access for our elderly. Its just not on their radar. It is a generous society that takes care of its disabled and elderly. But I digress, as I am wont to do.

On stage, a globe-like, metal cage - waited. The act was very Cirque de Solei - less polished, less fancy but highly skilled and acrobatic. The grand finalé involved eight motorcyclists, precision riding at high-speed, inside the globe: weaving, criss-crossing, upside down and mostly at 90-degrees to the ground. Without windows or ventilation system, the air filled with the exhaust of two-stroke engines. I wondered about carbon monoxide poisoning as my eyelids felt heavy and closed.

Cliff Notes from The Relationship Seminar

My girlfriend called upset because her husband had placed a glass tray on the laundry room floor. Walking into the unlit room, she stepped on it. Fortunately, she was unhurt when it shattered into shards and sherds. 

In talking about it, she realized two things about her upset: 1) The floor is a stupid place for a glass tray. Why would anyone do that? Even he would not do that - therefore he must have been distracted and set it down. 2) Her bigger upset was that he seemed insufficiently contrite. He apologized, said he liked the tray too, too bad it was broken, etc., nonetheless - in her view, while he was sorry, he wasn’t sorry enough. He was insufficiently contrite.

I have had that very thought - even as a man apologizes, Monkey chatters in the background. He doesn’t SEEM very sorry. 

My girlfriend’s call spawned thoughts of relationship and the differences between men and women. Females are typically characterized as emotional and men - stoic. We will let you know how we feel ... and men - kinda don’t. 

Intermission: Some years ago I attended a course called, Transforming Yesterday’s Strategies. One man shared, “This is how it is for me. I told you I love you, that means forever. What don’t you get about that and why do I have to repeat myself?”

I rest my case. He apparently missed the memo stating nothing lasts forever, least of all untended relationships. I know he was joking... sorta.

End Intermission.

When a male friend does not have/make time for me or worse, cancels our date - he calls, apologizes and reschedules. Its all very quick and matter of fact. 

“Hey Lorin, bad news. Somethings come up and I can’t make that beer on Tuesday. Can we reschedule? How about X. Good, thanks, sorry.” Baddah-bing; baddah-boom. Done.

I am always seemingly more sorrowful, filled with more longing and fret than they. They don’t seem to care as much because if they did... they would be more contrite. As a species, they are insufficiently contrite. 

My reflex arc perceives such calls as a lack of love and affinity rather than a scheduling conflict. I doubt men reflex similarly. When I am disappointed by a man; can he ever be sorry enough? What does sorry enough look like, sound like? 

A woman would apologize differently, exuding emotion, “I am so sorry. I was really looking forward to catching up. I have so much to tell you. But we’ll do it soon, promise.”

 I would feel her remorse and thereby - feel heard, known, understood, and comparatively better about the cancellation. Knowing that I knee-jerk to I’m just not that important to him, helps calm the Monkey and quiet his shrieks. This process is me working on me versus me working him over.

However, if that man says, “I, too, have regretted that there hasn't been more time and space to talk,” or more authentically, “I’ve missed you,” I am instantly restored and the stories in my head are put to rest. Easy-peasy. Why can't he just say that?

Why is authentic communication sooo uncomfortable? What are the barriers to authentic, heartfelt words? Answer: upsets comprised of broken agreements, unmet desires, unrealistic expectations, and undelivered communications. Over time, these accumulate and like shards of glass, hurt, annoy and bleed happiness from relationships. How do we transfuse new blood into anemic or exsanguinating bonds?

We well know the adage: actions speak louder than words - and to some degree its true - though not entirely. An overarching tenet of Landmark Education is that the quality of our lives is created in language. If the nature of our lives is created in language - what new words and conversations are required to infuse new life into stale or faltering friendships? And what of elevating great relationships to new heights of care, understanding, connection, and love?

The Relationship Seminar posits our relationships often focus on crisis management and quotidian mechanics (day-to-day details) rather than that which fosters true connection: creating and nurturing. When the majority of communication is based in crisis management and quotidian mechanics, people are left feeling unheard and forgotten. After all, there is little connection in deciding who picks-up Junior and what’s for dinner.

Additionally, human beings operate from a body of concerns, i.e. finances, kids, being right, looking good, safety, companionship, avoiding “alone”, to name just a few. 

In session-4, the Relationship Seminar proposed that our body of concerns gives rise to a set of in-order-to’s, that our actions, responses, behaviors, and choices are informed by in-order-to’s: in-order-to be loved, in-order-to be good or at least look good, in-order-to keep the other happy, in-order-to keep the peace or avoid upset, in-order-to belong, in-order-to stay together, in-order-to be accepted, in-order-to not be alone, in-order-to give or get, in-order-to to pay the bills, in-order-to fit in, in-order-to have someone, in-order-to dominate or avoid domination, in-order-to be right or avoid being wrong, in-order-to be (or not be) like Mom or Dad, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera... (said in my very best Yul Brenner with rolled R’s of course). What are your in-order-to’s?

If that proposition is so, consider that the highest state experienced in our inauthentic relationships is RELIEF.  And relief could feel like love because for today - there was no upset, no argument, no fight, no struggle, no avoidance, no perceived in-order-to. Surely that MUST be love!

Notice these concerns and subsequent in-order-to’s are borne of “I” and “me” versus “us” and “we”. What is possible in a relationship borne of “we”? What if I was for you in every way and you felt completely supported, loved, nurtured, treasured, respected, honored, cherished, and adored? That would take something. Could I generate that faithfully? Doubtful, bulldog that I am, lest you threw more than the occasional, obligatory bone. 

In all relationships - stuff happens - and distance grows with each small hurt, each unkind word, each perceived offense, each shard of glass.

How then to reestablish love and affinity? What follows is The Recipe, a new conversation that removes shards and stems bleeding, words to apply salve and begin healing. Often we don’t remove the splinter, rather, we slap on ointment and bandaid and hope it heals. (Commonly referred to as sweeping things under the carpet.) What we get is momentary relief before the onset of festering. 
       The recipe provides a way to work through upset by acknowledging (versus ignoring) the upset, giving voice to each persons experience in the upset, creating new actions, and restoring love and affinity. If applied at every upset, no matter how slight, participants can find safety during conflict, shuck their armor, and begin to feel partnership again. The shift from combatants to partners is a dramatic one.

THE RECIPE:

1. Take responsibility (distinct from blame or fault) for that which is yours to own. My ex-husband used to say, “It’s my fault; I’m a bad boy.” End of conversation. That kind of communication is neither helpful nor open, rather, it shuts down all communication. 

What was your role in the upset? Did you fail to communicate or break an agreement? Was there an unmet need or unrealistic expectation?  Own what is yours to own and admit it - out loud.

Steps 2 and 3 nurture.

2. Ask, “How is it for you?” Relationships are entwined with perceptions of how the other is left. Hear them without argument or defense. Get their point of view. 

3. “What’s it like to live with/in/like that?” Get the impact over there.  How is it for them living with your rage, drinking, silence? Get the impact, whether you agree or not.

4. Together, identify new actions to take. (This step creates in us and we language.) Among other things, men - this is an invitation to express through a broader spectrum of emotion. Women - this is an opportunity to bury the sword and accept that your man is not your girlfriend. Don’t expect him to act like one. Explore new ways of relating.

5. Be willing to be responsible for communicating anything that creates distance or upset.

“I can’t do that!” a friend said, wide-eyed with exasperation, “If I did that you would think I’m whacked!”

“Yes I would,” I laughed, “And we would have the cleanest relationship in the world, filled with love and affinity.” I dunno - whacked and crazy loved or withheld and making do - you choose.

6. Stop knowingly causing upset. “How many of you know things that upset your partner?” The Landmark Forum Leader asked for a show of hands, nearly every hand rose.

“How many of you do them anyway?” Nervous laughter flitted about the room. “STOP doing that!”

This - my friends - is the path less traveled ... the other is strewn with bodies.

Why bother? 

A friend recently said of her dying friend, “His family is not stepping up or showing up in a way that he needs or they could.” Glass shards in their eyes, they are blind to a different path. So common is this experience, we have aphorisms like - too much water under the bridge and he made his bed, let him lay in it - as if an explanation is what’s called for. They have not attended their small hurts and wounds  along the way. Now one of their own is dying and they are unable to stand vigil. Often, very often - the path is revealed after someone dies. Tragic. But why wait?

Months ago, my ex-mother-in-law was destined to spend Thanksgiving alone because of circumstances surrounding my ex’s car. “She understands; she’ll be okay,” my ex said. I had just returned from China, Honolulu, and nearly 30-days of rooming with my Mom. I was acutely aware that she valued every moment with her kids and grandkids. Our Mom’s are in their 80’s, my ex is an only child, his mother, a widow.

I contemplated overnight before offering him the use of my vehicle. He initially balked but ultimately borrowed my SUV and spent Thanksgiving with his Mom.

“That’s just you being co-dependent,” several of my friends chimed in instantly.

I think not. Co-dependence is a reflexive, self-denying response to domination and manipulation (perceived or real). This was not that. This was a choice borne of generosity and forgiveness. Those who know the story know there are many reasons and much evidence for why I am divorced. In generosity I will assert he is perfect just the way he is and we simply were not a match. I was codependent in my marriage to him but I am codependent no more. In this instance, I chose for generosity - for his Mother. And I must say, it felt good to be big enough, to have the capacity for something larger than defending my righteous hill. While he benefited, I was by far the greater beneficiary.

My point? Follow The Recipe for YOU. Who can we be for ourselves when we mend those bonds, forgive, and cross the burnt bridge yet again. It is a very small and limited life defending the hill of righteousness. Don’t do it. Let us reach out again for parents, partners, siblings, those valued friends who strayed or hang-on by a thread. Abandon our pretense, games, armor, and in-order-to’s to be authentic with one another. Its not hard work, its different work with a predictable serendipity - the rise of connectedness, love and affinity.

“Click” more often. Science demonstrates that connected and loving people live longer, happier, and more fulfilled lives. Find love and connection in the numerous micro-moments surrounding you. 

Barbara Fredrickson, who studies positive psychology writes, “Evidence suggests that when you really “click” with someone, a discernible yet momentary synchrony emerges between you, as your gestures and biochemistries, even your respective neural firings, come to mirror one another in a pattern I call positivity resonance. Love is a biological wave of good feeling and mutual care that rolls through two or more brains and bodies at once.”

Relationships with a high degree of love and affinity are borne of generosity. Ultimately, I find friends in those who are willingly and willfully generous with me, who correct and forgive. Corrections inform our relationship; you teach me how to treat you. Please teach me kindly. 

When I am not feeling connected and loved, I can look for my concerns, those blocks to relatedness. I can abandon my pretenses, my armor and righteousness, Amore’ resurfaces, I could let it in and give it voice. When you too can set aside your concerns and in-order-to’s - you will likely hear I love you in surround-sound. Fundamentally, isn’t that what we want?

Let me close with a poem I wrote several years ago entitled, I Promise to Never Know You. It was penned after hearing those very words - a man’s promise to his wife. In this context, not knowing allows the other to occur newly without the constraints of past knowing.

I Promise to Never Know You

I promise to shuck your history with me,

Your thorny crown of crimes and offenses, 

Those broken agreements and heartstrings I bear like a cross.

I promise to let you begin today 

With a clean slate, a clean plate,

...From this day forward, ‘Til death do us part.

I promise to recreate this daily.

The warden’s keys, Resurrection and life anew

In an act of pure generosity and love.

May you find that kernel of generosity within 

to grant others freedom from your knowing. 

2013 New Year's Letter

Tap on photos once to enlarge and tap X in upper right corner to shrink.

Can you believe another year is behind us with yet another on the horizon? How lucky are we? Despite the fiscal cliff, gun control (or lack thereof), an unconciliatory Congress reflecting a divided people, no peace in the Middle East,  and the doubling of cat-tuna prices at Trader Joe’s - my glass is 7/8s-full and will likely remain so.

This year my adventures were distributed across the calendar and brought a continued sense of excitement and preparation to 2012. 

the Narrows

In July I explored the canyonlands of the Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument (GSENM) in Utah. “The GSENM,” you ask, “What and where is that?” The national parks of Utah sit in a large ring and that grand expanse of wilderness between them, that great treasure trove of mineral and ore, THAT is now the GSENM.

In his establishment proclamation of 1996, President Clinton acknowledged that our national parks protect gems that become magnets of commerce and islands unable protect animal migration corridors and species from extinction (i.e. wolves in Yellowstone). With the stroke of a pen, he created 11-million contiguous acres of the GSENM and in so doing, stopped all mining, drilling, and destruction of this vast wilderness.

This is not a national park: there are no visitor centers, no carefully manicured scenic overlooks, no trash cans, flush toilets, shuttle buses, handrails, paved trails, no quick and easy rescue. It is as it is. And what it is is raw, naked mysterious and dangerous. There are flash-floods in narrow, unscalable canyons; there are sand pits that eat cars; pools of quicksand; rattlesnakes, scorpions; there are roads passable only by four-wheel-drive vehicles... There are box canyons, crevices, sharp cliffs, bone breaking falls; there are twisted ankles and heat stroke and inescapable situations.

   And there are sunsets bursting behind storm clouds, shooting stars the likes of which you haven't seen since you were a kid; there are sounds of desert waters, chattering coyotes, wind against sandstone, silence. ~ G K Chesher, Heart of the Desert Wild.

wind-sculpted sandstone

Half the trip was spent river-walking, the other half scaling sandy banks teeming with poison ivy, snakes, and ticks only to drop again into cool, canyon waters. Cliffs towered overhead, the rock a soft pink, the world - silent except for its own gentle heaves. And this is why I go to the wildz - to re-set and resynchronize my own heaves to that where God is most present - in the world of Her creation, the natural world. 

Lael and Mom in Guilin

“I want to go to China one last time and I want you kids to go with me,” Mom said last year. And so we did, six of us: my sister Gina, her husband Michael, niece Lael, nephew Collin, Mom, and me - for 16-days. Such an adventure starting with the Forbidden City, Summer Palace, and Great Wall in Beijing, to the Terra-cotta Army in Xi’an, the Floating Mountains of Guilin, hoú-hoú sung (good, good food) of Hong Kong, and the Portuguese settlement of Macau. Follow my nearly complete Asian Chronicles at http://lorinzmuze.blogspot.com.

China’s antiquities are mind-boggling and breathtaking and... much walking is required. Go while you are still mobile; China does not indulge the immobile.

w/the Fred and Tina

I paused in Honolulu for ten days and readied Mom’s condo for sale. We met visiting Portlander's, high school beau Fred and his lovely wife Tina, for dim-sum breakfast in Chinatown.

“What happened to you,” Mom exclaimed, ever the wordsmith, “You were such a cute kid!”

“What do you mean what happened to me,” Fred chuckled, “I’m still a cute kid!”

Mom is moving into Craigside - a continuing care retirement community that offers all levels of service from independent living to skilled and memory care. She expects to move for the last time by February first. Craigside sits not more than 1/2 mile from both her birthplace and lifelong church. Many fellow parishioners have taken residence there so her Christian community is imbedded within.

I am continually impressed with the results of my parents future-planning. Sprouted in times of true scarcity, their means were meager, their plans frugal, their tenacity unwavering, their results - fruitful. I hope it can one day be said that I was a good student and learned their valuable lessons.

I returned from China/Honolulu late October and on November 5th, I moved into my new office  at the Kaiser Roseville hospital campus - hired as a nurse practitioner in the new, Neurology Memory Clinic. Some minuscule part of me grieves in leaving the world of diabetes and cardiovascular disease and... the brain is the next frontier.

The bulk of my work will be in Alzheimer’s disease. Alzheimer’s occurs because a build-up of plaque and tangled proteins inside the brain clogs the pathways of cognition, memory, and synaptic plasticity - thinking, learning, memory, mood, even functions like swallowing. Not a day passes that I don’t remember, sometimes tearfully, Dad’s struggle. His plight lends valuable insight and infinite compassion for these patients and families. 

To date - there is no cure. What about prevention? A healthy lifestyle is believed to help. If you smoke - stop. Eat a healthy diet (more plants), get regular exercise, and maintain a healthy weight. While this is not new news - the good news is a healthy lifestyle is within your control.

I tendered my resignation at Mercy General Hospital in November and left the open heart team, a job I’ve held since 2004. You know I loved that job, loved the work, loved the skill-set, and patient population. But it was not a job I did easily or well just 3-4 days/month. I feared missing something and causing harm. And working Saturdays at Mercy had me with split days off; that was tiring. So with great sadness, I resigned.

On December 13th I organized a walk: Neuro Steps UP & Steps OUT. It was an employee Live Well Be Well, 25-minute, lunchtime walk that resulted in 20 walkers and a burgeoning walking movement on the 4th floor of Med Ofc Bldg 2. I organized a rain route and a sunny route and subsequently have six new, lunchtime, committed walkers in Neuro. And so it came to pass that I was knighted the Live Well Be Well champion of Neuro - a role that is well-suited to my natural proclivities, energies, and interests.

Jaydalyn

On December 18th and through no efforts of my own, I became a great-aunt for the second time. My nephew Nicholas and his wife Lindsey welcomed their first child Jaydalyn - and we did too.

Lastly, some of you know that my cat Puck discarded me like a stinky piece of cheese and went Rambo 2-years ago, only to return at Halloween 2011. While he remains feral, he does come home almost nightly to eat and sometimes sleep in the garage. The prodigal son returns...

What’s in store for 2013? 

I have been practicing Power Vinyasa Yoga for eight months. I am working on balancing poses and handstands - having mastered the headstand. Always another mountain, eh?

Classmate and dear friend John and I attended the annual reunion, UCSF Days in April. A subsequent conversation resulted in an invitation to give the in-patient/out-patient Diabetes Management lecture to the Acute Care NP class of 2013. I am thrilled and will lecture in April.

In July, my best backpacking buddy Bill and I intend to bite off another piece of the Pacific Crest Trail from Sonora Pass to Yosemite. “We have to get in there,” I said several years ago as we gazed into the wildz beyond Hetch Hetchy Reservoir. Our route will bring us into Hetch Hetchy from the north-east, hiking along the water for the last few miles. We will be in-z-wildz for a week; care to join us?

My next frontier: “I’m still trying to figure out how to wean them off their dementia.”

Love hearing from you - please do stay connected. 

May 2013 be an expression of your heart’s greatest desires 
and deepest yearnings. 
Hau’oli Makahiki Hou!   Lorin

Asian Chronicles - 6

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To Shanghai / Suzhou - Tuesday 10/2/2012  

If its Tuesday, it must be Taiwan Shanghai.

“Xian is the root of China,” Peter explained as our bus raced toward the airport. “Beijing is like a branch; Shanghai is like a leaf.” We were headed for the newest, shiniest, showiest leaf in China’s ancient forest - Shanghai.

I am not a city lover and have no real desire to tour Asia’s leaves. Cities worldwide have become amazingly homogenous with Starbucks, McDonald’s, and “Kentucky.” The days of buying cheap in Asia are past. Most of what I saw could be purchased on Amazon at a better price and sans the need to lug it home. 

I would much prefer eco-travel while touring their antiquities. Peter encouraged our return to Xi’an for deeper exploration. He leads tours down the Silk Road toward Istanbul. “We ride camels across the Gobi Desert and sleep in tents.” Now yer talkin’!

“No thank you-u-u,” my niece Lael said softly, rolling her eyes.

Deng Xioping was a reformist leader in the Communist Party who led China’s charge toward a market economy. In 1979, he opened Shanghai to outside investment companies. Today, 60% of multinational companies have offices in Shanghai. 

The Shanghainese have new money; their women are known to be “Hi-i-i-gh maintenance,” Derek said, lifting his nose in the air before cackling like one of them. “They talk high and fast. You will hear them ngah-ngah-ngah-ngah-ngah,” he yammered in falsetto, opening and closing his hand in the form of a yapping mouth. Derek giggled again.

At the airport’s security check-point, passengers relinquished their lighters - scads and scads of Bic lighters. At the other side, exiting airports, peddlers peddled those lighters for a few yuan. Talk about a racket!

“Good afternoon,” our Shanghainese tour-guide said, “Aloha.” She was a tiny woman, about five-feet tall, in her early 30’s. Her black hair was trimmed pixie-style; we call that rice-bowl in the islands. A rice-bowl haircut is a blunt cut of every hair extending beyond the lip of an inverted rice-bowl placed on the head. It was the typical haircut of Chinese immigrants to Hawaii at the turn of the century. Hence its name: rice-bowl haircut. Okay, she was Shanghainese, it wasn’t quite a rice-bowl haircut.

“You are from Honolulu.” she continued. “My name is Loo-Loo. My family name is Loo, L-O-O,” she spelled it out for us. “You can call me Loo-Loo. You can remember?” 

She began to lay out the rules. “Shanghai streets very busy. You cross at zebra-cross.” Zebra-cross? Loo-Loo pointed outside the bus - to white striping painted on black asphalt creating black and white roadway striping. Ah, zebra-cross is a crosswalk. Loo-Loo pointed to an overpass, “You see the camera? They send us ticket for no seatbelt.”

“If you need to go to the bathroom, you say, ‘I want to sing a song.’ We don’t say, ‘I go to the bathroom.’ We say, ‘I go to sing a song.’” Seriously? “When we are near a bathroom, I will ask if you need to sing a song. Okay?” 

Can I just say... there is something seriously warped in a culture that suppresses communications regarding the universal, biologic need for elimination to that degree. I’m just sayin’...

“You know Chinese banana?” Loo-Loo asked. We gave her a puzzled look. “Chinese banana are Chinese people with no Mandarin.” er... that would be us. “You know what is an egg?” Yellow inside, white outside, I began to problem solve. I would think that was the Chinese person who did not speak Mandarin because they are yellow inside and seemingly white outside without Mandarin. But noooh, eggs are Caucasians who speak Mandarin. But... but Caucasians aren’t yellow inside... Whatever.

187 mph

Our destination was the Bund, Shanghai’s business waterfront. We could arrive one of two ways: via tour bus or Maglev Train. Maglev = magnet levitation. In a joint venture with Siemens, China built the first commercially operated, high-speed, magnetic levitation line in the world, to connect the Shanghai Pudong International Airport to the outskirts of Shanghai. Construction of 18.6 miles of track began in 2001 and was completed in 2004 at a cost of 2.1 BILlion. (They ran into swamps requiring deep pylons and likely more than a few corrupt officials with deep pockets.) Top operational speed of the train is 431 km/h (268 mph) though is was clocked at 501 km/h (311 mph) in a test run. The journey to the airport takes a mere 8-minutes. The hope was to ultimately connect China by affordable and time efficient rail, i.e. Shanghai to Beijing. (Stats from Wikipedia)

Collin awaiting blast-off

However, ridership has lagged as the depot is located 20-minutes outside Shanghai’s City Center, forcing riders to board yet another form of transportation. Additionally, ticket prices are double that of local cab fares. We paid our fare and boarded the virtually empty train; our ride was smooth and quiet. No clackety-clackety-rickety-rackety, this was first class comfort terminating at a fancy depot in the middle-of-nowhere. Hmmm. What pocket-lined official approved THAT? The larger project, the unification of China by Maglev rail, was scrapped due to cost overruns and low ridership. No duh!

OOPS!

The Bund is like ... like Hong Kong harbor’s Mini-Me. (See Austin Powers - The Spy Who Shagged Me). It has it’s share of towering glass and high finance, a dirty waterway, and luxury shopping. Again, nothing I couldn’t get on Amazon. But don’t take my word for it as I am constantly perplexed with the near universal enchantment of modern cities - give me Petra or terra-cotta soldiers.

We boarded our bus again, this time destined for Suzhou, approximately 90-minutes from Shanghai. Suzhou (pronounced Sue-joe, where the J is soft - like Jacque and Beijing) is within the southern Yangtze River delta and is known for China’s silk industry and series of canals that has it dubbed the “Venice of the East.” 

The Grand Canal is the longest (of course it is) canal (meaning artificial and manmade = hand-dug by Chinese peasants) in the world (1,400 miles). Beginning in Beijing, it connects the Yellow River in northern China to the southern Yangtze. Oldest sections of the Grand Canal date back to the 5th century BCE and various sections were combined for its completion during the Sui Dynasty in 581-610 CE. With the completion of the Grand Canal, Suzhou found itself along a major trade route when, in the 10th century, China invented the pound lock (think Panama Canal). Locks allowed river barges to traverse the 138-foot Shandong mountains and float goods up and down The Grand Canal’s length.

The names of southern cities along the grand canal: Xuzhou, Chuzhou, Yangzhou, Taizhou, Suzhou, Huzhou, Hanzhou all end in zhou, meaning boat. 

More recently, Suzhou’s New District is a designated region for technological and industrial development. Think iPhone. 

“In 2003, the district's total output value was 25.1 billion yuan. Industrial sales equalled 70.06 billion yuan. ... with exports of 8.76 BILlion USD.” - Wikipedia. THAT was 2003 - pre-iPhone!

shoyu duck feet

Our bus raced along a multi-lane freeway past large, high-rise industrial complexes, each housing tens of thousands of workers. Mid-way between the two cities, a rest stop provided a place to sing a song and vendors with local delicacies: shoyu (teriyaki) chicken and duck, duck feet, duck tongue, chicken feet, and crucified chicks.

shoyu chicks

The bathrooms were mostly squattys and hand-washing occurred at a central, stainless steel trough outside. There, an old woman vomited into a trash can and young mothers were known to hold their children over the trough to urinate.

“Don’t touch that Amma,” Collin grabbed Mom firmly by the arm, “We have hand sanitizer.”

“Gawd Collin, I didn’t know you were such a germ-a-phobe!” Mom exclaimed as he led her away. Such were the beginnings of calling him “the Phobe” for the remainder of our trip.

Bicycle and tricycle traffic was infrequent on the freeway that was marked with pedestrian crosswalks! If flagged, the public bus stopped anywhere along the freeway. Grace and patience are requisite for driving in China.

deep-fried fish

We disembarked in Suzhou and walked a narrow path between construction site and crumbling building to a restaurant. Chilled appetizers of aspic and liver paté turned out to be variations of dried, pickled, and smoked tofu. The deep fried fish had an unusual presentation, one I’d never seen. My companions said the food was greasy. I picked at vegetables to put on my rice and then... then they brought me a plate of stir-fried vegetables: cauliflower, broccoli, snow peas, green and white onions, and carrots followed by an egg fritter in broth - I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

We were serenaded by a woman playing a pipa - a pear-shaped, fretted lute. I’m sure she was good - if one has an ear for the screechy, nasal songs of China.

After dinner, we checked into our hotel - the Jasmine Holiday Inn. It stood alone, adjacent to several blocks of pure carnage, fields of rubble and destruction. Woe be to them when reconstruction begins, we thought. The place will be a construction dustbowl. 

That night we hit the streets, wending our way past food carts, shoulder to shoulder with the locals, past a “Kentucky”. 

“We like Kentucky,” Loo-Loo said. “McDonald’s not so popular.” Apparently Kentucky has made a teriyaki-like recipe that is quite popular in China. Smart guy that Colonel Sanders. Hawaiian islanders eat teriyaki chicken sandwiches and burgers. McDonald’s would be wise to figure that out in Hawaii and China. Wait! What am I saying? Fast-food is a leading cause of morbidity and mortality! I hope Mickey Dz fails and leaves China altogether! But I digress.

The curbs and sidewalks were uneven and unlit; the footing treacherous. The streets were streaming with cars and scooters, all with horns a-blare, as if to say, “Look at me and my new moneeee.” The annoying and incessant honking did not abate until shopkeepers closed after 10 pm. 

The dawn was quiet, the denizens of Suzhou still sequestered within save the errant motorist careening down the street, horn blaring like a rooster announcing dawn - look at meee, look at me and my new moneeee. I pulled the curtains back to glare disapprovingly.

Breakfast was a wonderful, international buffet on the sixth floor. Suzhou was gray and drab in the morning light, a real industrial town. 

“Nē hoú,” we said aboard our bus. “We don’t say nē hoú in Suzhou,” Loo-Loo corrected. “We say jóusàhn.” (pronounced jow-sun) Ah, we know jóusàhn - it’s Cantonese. My Popo (grandmother) was from Canton, spoke Cantonese and used jóusàhn. We had arrived in southern China, where Cantonese - pure Chinese - is spoken and the temperate climate allows for vegetables and the food Americans know as Chinese food.

Our first destination was “The Lingering Garden” - a renowned, classical, Chinese garden. What are the elements of a Chinese garden? Do you remember? They are: water (yin), rock (yang), flora, and architecture. 

The Lingering Garden was commissioned in the mid-1550’s by a local official. The bamboo groves and stone forest were added by subsequent owners and in 1823CE it opened to the public as a resort. The garden has been abandoned and fallen into disrepair during multiple eras. After the establishment of the People’s Republic of China, the government of Suzhou took ownership of the garden and its restoration. It reopened to the public in 1954 and was added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 2001. 

Lingering Lael

As we waited in the queue outside, a young Chinese mother stopped to request a picture of her toddler with my niece Lael. Lael lifted the child while mother and grandmother cooed to get the child’s attention. 

“It’s because you are so model-esque,” I said.

“It’s because I’m the only black girl in China,” she countered, “And they’ve never seen one in real life.” Lael was gracious and accommodating with their curious stares.

Lael, Mike, me

Auspicious Cloud Capped Peak

The buildings of the garden occupy 1/3 of the total area and are traditional Suzhounese with black-tile roofs and white-washed walls - all very yin-yang. The central garden harbors the oldest sections and the great Auspicious Cloud Capped Peak.

The crowds were thick with tourists and tour groups. We shuffled slowly, shoulder to shoulder. Loo-Loo provided a running dialogue through our earbuds while some groups used bull-horns, though signage clearly prohibited their use. 

“It’s a holiday,” Derek said. “There is no one here to enforce; that’s why.”

And why did we spend a fortune to come to China during their national holi-week? Grrrrrrrrr. My bad. We should have paid more attention. Be advised - DO NOT go to China during the first week of October!!!

“Look out the windows,” Loo-Loo said. “Each window is a picture frame and each frame has three views.” The main structure contained men’s and women’s chambers. The men’s chambers were ornate with carved rafters and window casements, better views, and cushioned chaises for smoking opium. The women’s chambers were spartan.

I was intrigued with several ancient weather stations: a wooden plaque holding two stones, one round, one square. The round stone is above the square - remember round is a symbol of heaven and square a symbol of earth. The round stone (a barometer) becomes moist when barometric pressure falls and ambient humidity rises. The square stone turns a reddish hue with rising temperatures. I wondered if forecasting was possible or if the stones merely confirmed the current weather pattern. 

The bonsai garden was fabulous... but there was no lingering in the Lingering Garden. We were off to the Silk Factory. Why is the silk industry in Suzhou? Because the climate is favorable for orchards of mulberry trees, on which silk worms feed.

Loo-Loo pointed to the treelined roadway.

“Camphor trees,” she said. “You know camphor? C-A-M-P-H-O-R, camphor. Camphor tree is all over Suzhou; everyone has camphor tree. When you have daughter, parent plant camphor tree. When daughter about sixteen, matchmaker come. Don’t look at girl, look at tree. Tree big and strong, girl too old, no one want her. When girl marry, parents cut down tree, make camphor box for wedding.”

My Popo was matched by a matchmaker. She was a picture-bride from Canton, bound feet and all, sold to my grandfather’s family in Hawaii. I wondered if the camphor story was still true in China, where a girl’s value is determined by the horticultural skills of her parents and a tree in the yard. 

Loo-Loo expounded on the one-child policy. “Now, not enough girls. No baby girl adoption to US anymore. You know? Now, you want grandchildren? You buy condo for son and his new wife. You buy BMW.” Loo-Loo laughed, she - the mother of a young child. Well that’s an interesting turn of events, eh? So much for the camphor tree!

We gathered in a large room where they delivered Silk Basics 101. The lifespan of a silkworm is thirty-days. This is a government store; no price negotiation. Silk is sold by weight. It is lightweight, warm in winter, cool in summer. 

“Polyester is shiny; silk - no. Polyester is itchy and if you catch it on fire - the smoke is black. Silk no itch and when it catch on fire - the smoke is white. It smells like burning hair, like natural fiber. Silk pillow very good for you, good for migraines. Inside, a little pocket of herbs and silkworm poo-poo,” Loo-Loo held up a long, narrow sachet. “We call poo-poo pillow. You have neck problem; you get poo-poo pillow and neck problem go away. Very good for you.”

We poured out onto their showroom floor, stopping at a clickety-clackety machine that unwound cocoons. “One cocoon is one thread,” Loo-Loo said. Women stirred cocoons floating in hot water with a natural-bristled brush, until it snagged the thread’s tail. Then both thread tail and cocoon were lifted onto the machine for unwinding. The pupae (the worm metamorphosing into moth) at the center, looking a little like a shelled pecan, were discarded and likely used for fertilizer in the orchards which gave them life.

Dbl Cocoon

Silk Stretch

Double pupae, two pupae in a single cocoon, were de-bugged by hand because the cocoon is not unwound but stretched over a frame for blankets and comforters. The dried cocoon felt soft and lightly textured, like merino wool. We watched factory workers stretch a double cocoon over a twin-sized wooden frame. They let us do it next and I jumped in to try. The cocoon was amazingly tough and difficult to stretch, but stretch it we did without a tear - a sign of silks resilience over our skill. Our purchases were compressed and packed for shipping.

Carved Elephant Tusk

Lunch was followed by a visit to the Suzhou Museum of Art designed by Ieoh Ming Pei - better known as I.M. Pei. I.M. Pei was born in Canton in 1917 and moved to the US to study architecture in 1935. He is an award winning designer, best known for the Pyramid at the Louvre in France. The museum at Suzhou is his most recent work and, given his age, perhaps his last. The museum was beautiful, the works of art contained therein, breathtaking. We did the breakneck and breathless, 45-minute tour where I could easily spend 3-4 hours.

Eight Immortals

Intricate Fretwork

The walk back to our bus was through a street-fair of merchant booths where a pungent odor filled the air.

“That’s stinky tofu,” Derek said. “It’s fermented more long.”

Squares of tofu simmered on an outdoor griddle, filling the air with ... stink. Christie (one of the younguns) bought a small bowl and we all had a taste. It was tart, its flavor much better than its smell.

Just before dinner we took a short boat ride down the Jing Hau, the Grand Canal where some Suzhounese have homes along the water. Near the dock, a man red-faced with drink tailed us looking for a handout, “Hey money, money,” he called out, “Hey money, money.”

The pace of this tour was getting to us and we welcomed the opportunity to eat-in at our hotel.