Full Circle

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

We’re up around 7 a.m. No e-mail from John yet. No water, either.

I call GaoFei, the property manager and all-round translator, bureaucracy-sorter, and all-things Dalian savvy person who took us to register with the police. No answer.

Perhaps we’re stymied.

Within the hour, though, John calls. Our address is still undecipherable to him, or to Mr. and Mrs. Zhou. Sheri’s mother would like to know if we can go to the Kerren Hotel’s lobby at 2:00, where Sheri’s mom and a driver will pick us up. Works like magic. The Kerren is five minutes away by taxi.

Taxis here are like taxis in old movies. All you have to do is stand at the curb and one comes along every few minutes-usually less than two.

Now, back to the water problem. Bernie goes down to the gate. The young men there indicate, by hand motions, that the problem is “over there” and that everyone in the surrounding area is without water. Bernie pulls out his phone and pulls up the handy-dandy speaking translator. One hour? The men shake their head no. Today? They look doubtful. Tomorrow? Yes, tomorrow.

None of this is very reassuring. I’m thinking they have no idea and tomorrow (it’s always a day away, remember) is a response that will make Bernie go away.

Aiye comes to clean house. Last week it was no electricity. This week no water. That means no laundry, no mopping. Her stay is short; she’ll see us Friday.

I’m going for a walk. Bernie decides to stay home. I make a left turn at the gate and walk several blocks until the street ends, then I see the harbor just half a block away, so I continue, turning north when I get to the street that follows the harbor. Some very nice restaurants here, with waterfront views. I imagine they’re very popular with tourists during the summer.

Just as I run out of sidewalk, I see the cut in the hill I’ve seen described. Dinosaur sculptures are built into the hill, as if they are fossils. A T-rex rears its head. Trilobite reproductions dot the hill and the concrete below.

Walking back, I daydream about hot water. Without it, I’m going to have a heck of time getting cleaned up enough to meet the only two people in China I really hope to make a favorable impression on. I mean, who would like to find out that their daughter had been picked up by two disheveled, scruffy-looking people in a town halfway around the globe?

No such luck. Back at the uncleaned apartment, the taps are dry. Ok, let’s boil water. When I was a little kid, we did not have hot running water-just cold. Mom used to heat water every night, stand each of us three kids on a kitchen chair beside the sink, and wash us. I think about this as I fill the washbasin with the heated water and scrub down. I really feel pretty clean when I’m done.

We have no dressy clothes, and I brought two pair of well-worn and comfortable shoes, but off we go to the Kerran Hotel. We recognize the Mercedes because John told us it would be black with a license plate ending in 99.

Sheri’s mom is taller than I expected, attractive and vivacious, and very warm. She later asks me to relax and act as if I were her older sister. And really, it’s way easier to do this than anyone would think.

We drive into Dalian proper (we’re staying in Kaifaqu, or the Development Zone, a little north of town), and take the harbor road which offers a view of the sea on our right and mountains and forests on our left. The views are spectacular and Bernie and I are amazed at the amount of land set aside for parks and just because it’s beautiful.

We drive to the Ocean Park and aquarium, where we see seals, otters, sharks, penguins and polar bears. At 4:00 p.m. we take in the dolphin show, where a little girl from the audience is chosen to participate and gets to ride around on an inflatable boat in the pool with the dolphins. Quite a thrill for her.

Then we head to the commercial area of Dalian. We arrive around rush hour and the whole scene is astounding. There’s a huge traffic crush, what seems like hundreds of banks, office buildings, and crowds on the street.

Our driver picks his way through the traffic and takes us to the restaurant. Inside, we take an elevator and are escorted to a private dining room. Three servers are assigned to us. The table is beautifully set.

While we wait for Mr. Zhou, Gail goes to order us some “real Chinese food.” When she returns, she asks Bernie about whiskey. Apparently there are certain drinking rituals that men go through. Bernie is somewhat familiar with them from his days in Korea.

Sheri’s dad comes in after just a few minutes, and the introductions begin. He pronounces us healthy and strong. Gail explains that grandparents in China are frail and hunched over. I show Gail pictures of our grandchildren.

Sheri is an only child; China has a one-child policy. Gail comes from a large family, however, born before the one-child rule went into effect. Sheri’s grandfather, her dad’s dad, was a peasant. That his son has risen to be a successful businessman (he’s in real estate) is something to be very proud of, just as it is at home.

Gail is the best kind of translator for her husband, who knows very few English words. We don’t feel as if either he or we are losing anything in the conversation, though she has to translate everything. It all seems very natural.

The whiskey arrives just before the food. We toast, Gail and I with green tea, Bernie and Zhou with whatever that pale yellow liquid is in the bottle between them. As the meal progresses, the two men continue to toast one another.
First there is pork, crisply fried, broccoli, and “vegetables from the sea.” Bernie says this is seaweed. I try it. I like it. It’s deep green, with vinegar and some hot pepper, and I can only compare it to pico de gallo. Bernie, who does not like vinegar at all, passes.

Next comes a fish baked in a delicious sauce – it’s great; I wish I knew how to do this at home-the sauce, I mean. I’d have baked fish more often.

Then, a seafood delicacy which we think must be an oyster, and beef, both in another fantastic sauce, and rice. Gail shows us that we can just empty our rice bowl into the sauce. Lovely- cause that’s what I would want to do if I were alone. My comparison on this one is beef bourguignon, without the pearl onions. Caveat: my comparisons are very rough approximations.

Dessert is familiar yet not familiar. Could this be squares of squash or pumpkin in a honey-like sauce? But what are those translucent petals the color of white onions on top? No relation to pumpkin pie, though.

Fruit follows – melon, perfectly ripe and crisply chilled.

Our driver is waiting and before we go home we go to the top of a hill overlooking Dalian. It’s quite a skyline-this city has grown so fast in the last few years. We’re looking down on a huge red-and-white soccer ball in Labor Park. I plan to get a picture of it in the daytime to show Brookie.

On the drive back to Kaifaqu they tell us that twenty years ago there were no more than fifty houses in all of the area between Dalian and Kaifaqu. We’re driving past hundreds of high-rise apartments as Gail tells us this. It’s hard to imagine such a large influx of people.

Back at our apartment complex, the Zhous walk us to the door of our building, then say goodnight.

We’ve learned a lot in our conversation tonight. It’s apparent, for instance, that China’s people have worked very hard for the progress they’ve made, and that they have made sacrifices along the way.

Just a few decades ago, people in China were starving-within the Zhous’ lifetimes. The contrast between then and now is sharp, and no one in China wants to return to those days.

The Zhous’ main concern is for their daughter’s safety. Is she ok? Is her neighborhood safe? (We had been thinking about taking in a Chinese exchange student before any of this happened, and we think we’d like to have Sheri stay with us while she’s in school in Middletown.)

They want to know about Miami, both at Middletown and Oxford. They asked us about the weather.

They are, like us, middle-class parents who want their child to be safe, to succeed, and to have a good life. And they want her to return home when this big adventure is over.

Inside the apartment I turn on the faucet. Woo-hoo! We have water, and hot water.