As many of you know, last time we went to Kunming, our housing was the thing I worried about most. I'd seen way too many photos of Chinese kitchens that resembled closets with a hot plate, bathrooms the size of phone booths, and dingy cement walls. But I was pleasantly surprised with our apartment, so this time, our scant communication prior to our arrival included no discussion of our housing. I assumed it would be in the same building as before, if not the same third-floor apartment. This assumption proved accurate: we are living just one floor up where it is believed by everyone but John that mosquitos are less inclined to be an annoyance. The fourth floor also gives us a view of the local pond where legend has it that a white dragon lives. (A side note: Our neighborhood is called Bai Long Si / White Dragon Temple. The temple is long gone, but a surprising number of people sort of believe the dragon spirit is still in residence.)
In most ways this apartment is quite similar to the last one we had here, except that it is better equipped. I assumed that the first two things I would have to shop for would be a shower curtain and a teapot. The Chinese don't use shower curtains, but it's possible to find a few for expats. And even though this is the land of tea, at home people don't usually use teapots; rather they put the tea leaves directly in the cup. But surprise, surprise: we have a perfectly acceptable shower curtain and the very teapot of another teacher's that I coveted last time we were here.
Last time, I made good use of the very small ancient oven in our kitchen, but was trying to get used to the fact that it probably had not survived the two years we were away. Chinese kitchens don't have ovens because Chinese people leave baking to the pros, so getting an oven is not easy. In fact, we never once saw one for sale. I guess I successfully expressed my concern (and one point I even made an oven a condition for our return), because we arrived to find three brand new ovens: an electric one, a microwave, and a small "pizza oven." I'm back in the muffin business.
Actually, our problem this year is not what we lack, but rather what we have too much of. Our predecessor came with three children, so the room that we considered the master bedroom looked more like a dorm, complete with bunk beds and linens for a family of five. We spent our first weekend disassembling the bunk beds and rearranging furniture. We're now quite comfortably settled in, and the fact that you are reading this even means that we have finally gotten internet service at home.
Last time we were here, perhaps the most bizarre piece of furniture was the guest bed with a chrome and pink velvet headboard. This apartment lacks that particular item, but this is not to say that we have no surprises in the world of furniture: we have a new sofa and armchair set covered with imitation black leather. This furniture looks like the fruit of a collaborative effort involving a tattooed Harley Davidson biker, a K Mart production manager, and Auntie Em (before the tornado struck). It's a startling amalgam of incompatible styles, and really uncomfortable to boot. This is not to suggest it is the ugliest sofa in the neighborhood because I assure you, compared to what we've seen in friends' apartments, it is relatively tasteful.
As was also the case two years ago, the apartment itself is quite lovely. The bedroom floors are hardwood and everything else is covered with giant white tiles (mopped three times a week by the cleaning woman whose services are included as part of our free housing). The white walls are no longer pristine, but they'll do. The windows are large, with southern and western views, including the mountain range beyond the city. Several windows look out to a garden where senior citizens do qi gong in the morning, and beyond that, the local preschool. Spying on the old folks and the kiddies still fascinates me. I'd been trying to spot the two women in our complex who had bound feet, but recently learned that they had returned to their hometowns now that their grandchildren are in school. Although I definitely recall seeing these wizened ladies tottering on tiny feet while carrying chubby toddlers on their backs, it had not occurred to me that they were here for childcare.
We live in a housing complex for the college staff--not just faculty, but everyone from the president to the maintenance workers. This means everyone knows each other and there is a sense of community that is rarely found anymore in the States. We're on the northern outskirts of Kunming, a good half hour bike ride from downtown. There's been a tremendous amount of building in our neighborhood since we were last here, and yet it retains its rundown rural character: the one main street is still a muddy, pothole riddled road where occasional vestiges of paving appear to date from the Qing Dynasty. Several times each day, herds of goats still clog the road, and while buses are more numerous than before, the horse and donkey carts heading to the local market are no fewer.
Most importantly, the outdoor market across the road from our housing area is still in full swing seven days a week. My favorite flower vendor and the woman who sells the local goat cheese not only are still there, but remembered me well. Several of my other buddies in the market have left, hopefully for more lucrative labor. Although the market is about the same size--considerably more than 100 different vendors, there seems to be more diversity of products. In the case of interesting baked goods, this is good news; in the case of the densely packed cage of young dogs doomed to becoming dinner, it's rather sad. Interestingly, there has been no inflation of food prices in two years. In fact, my friends have said that prices may have dropped to such an extent that sometimes they don't have the heart to bargain. I can understand this: the price I was quoted for a kilo of great looking tomatoes was about one American dime.
We haven't yet visited all our old haunts outside our neighborhood, but from what we've seen, I'd say there is slightly more motor traffic, more new housing, and distinctly more western influences of the not so desirable kind. When we arrived in Fall 2000, there was not a single western fast food restaurant in the city; we were here for the opening of the first KFC. Now we've seen three KFCs ourselves, which means there are probably at least a dozen elsewhere in the city. We've spotted the first golden arches in Kunming, and heard that a second Walmart opened quite close to our own neighborhood.
Downtown, a branch of the French store Carrefour (Jia Le Fu in Chinese) has opened and this is clearly the best place for western or pseudo-western ware. In fact, they have some very snazzy plastic pitchers, bowls, and plates that are so sleek that I'd mistake them for Italian if I didn't read the "Made in China" label. I was tempted to get some, but then I remembered that what really charms me about China is the old stuff--the red and white enameled ware stenciled with luscious peonies, the characters for Double Happiness, or in the case of my favorite bowl, a red and blue chipmunk!
Somehow I think Carrefour is not exactly the same in Paris. The cashiers--all women who appear too young to enter high school never mind actually hold down jobs--wear uniforms. The Chinese adore unforms, so this in itself is perfectly normal. But their uniforms consist of short-sleeved camouflage shirts with matching kerchiefs, and cut-off shorts! Now that the weather is getting chillier by the day, I'm wondering what their winter uniform will be! Any suggestions from you fashion mavens?
Now it may sound as if we've done nothing but decorate and shop since we've arrived. While that has kept us busy, we've also had a heck of a busy social life and I began teaching this week. But that's a whole other story. Stay tuned...
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