Today is the Moon Festival. I don’t even remember when I last celebrated. I mean, real celebration. Sure, I have managed a few bites of moon cakes, but since I’ve never really enjoyed this part of the Moon Festival, it should not count. Being with my parents and sister. The last time this was even possible was 1994. Ten years ago. It’s been a long journey.
People say the Mid Autumn Festival (the literal translation of 中秋节, the Chinese name) to Chinese is what Thanksgiving to Americans. But from my memory, the Festival is always more associated with distant love than family reunions, right from the origin of the story. The image of 嫦娥 (Chang E) waving to the husband in the moon forever etched in my mind. Being physically apart, yet never closer in heart--it is type of romance we understand all too well. Not the chocolate, flower, fragrance type the westerners are more comfortable with.
When I drove back from Chicago last night, the full moon was hanging above in the sky, pouring the silver light all over the prairie. With me being one of the few cars traveling on the highway, cruising at 80 miles an hour, and Chinese pop music playing in my CD, I felt like I’m in another world. It is a strange feeling, but at the moment I enjoyed it. Being oneself and enjoying oneself in such a setting does not happen often, and I made sure I treasured the moment.
Happy Moon Festival, everyone!
Today I went to Starbucks and bought a cup of coffee. Man, it’s like 100% caffeine! I had the coffee at around 3PM, and even now at 10:20 I feel like I’m going to be up all night! When I think how many people come in here and get their fix every day, this is kind of scary.
Which reminds me of my most favorite comedian, Bill Maher. (He is the best, period.) He’s an avid supporter of the legalization of marijuana. To him, smoking marijuana is no different from smoking cigarettes, drinking alcohol or drinking coffee. Each is addictive, makes people high and does not harm others in any way (except second-hand smoking, which is why it’s banned indoors almost everywhere). It should be each adult’s own responsibility to not abuse them.
If I visit Starbucks, I’ll be in for the T-Mobile HotSpot wireless connection, not the coffee. Maybe a cup of tea, at most.
I’ve been adjusting to the weekly commuting life for the past three weeks. It’s not easy, but I got something positive out of it—the switch of cities and atmosphere is a nice reward for the time spent on the road.
The next few weeks will be adjustment for me again—I’ll be taking public transportation (Amtrak) instead of driving. The inhibitive parking expenses are just too much, at more than $200 a month. The advantage of public transportation is obvious: I can do something on the train, like blogging. :) The price is the loss of my flexibility.
Tuodi made an interesting comparison of Chinese and American stereotypes in his blog. One of the issues that has no Chinese explanation was this one:
"Visiting prostitutes is probably 10 times more common in China than in the US."
Even though I'm not exactly sure if that's the case, I want to offer my explanations:
1) Let's face it, there's just not enough supply in the US. To make it up instead, America has many more adult shops than China does. (But we are catching up on this one.) More DIYs, I guess. :)
2) American men have their fair share of indulgence when they are young. To poor Chinese men, they can only make it up when they have money. Sad but true.
3) Americans just have different taste than Chinese. They like to frequent so-called gentlemen's clubs, while Chinese like to go for the "real thing". I assume you've been to a gentlemen's club, Tuodi. Oh, on that note, I like the way Americans refer to this sort of things, like "gentlemen's club", "bachelor party", "escort". They sound so romantic!
That said, I must also say prostitution does not threaten marriage, but the out-of-marriage relationship. Prostitution is the exchange of money for sex, but out-of-marriage relationships involve emotions and are the most dangerous.
Alright, I guess by now everyone has guessed this bigger city I've been referring to is--Chicago. Chicago is a great city, especially in summer. And I've only recently discovered its beauty.
Today's Friday, and I'm back in Chicago again. Wife is too tired from working to do anything other than sleep after dinner (talk about life of a consultant!). And that left me with the empty living room with a notebook on top of my lap, facing the well-lit skyscrapers out of the windows, blogging. The small city where I was earlier today (I'm going to keep this one secret for now) seems so far.
On a side note, these two days this site has been spammed pretty bad--I got about 10 junk postings every day. Extremely annoying. The originating IP address kept changing. All I could do was deleting each post individually and banning each individual IP. Does anyone know how to block this? I need your help.
托的 made a good point regarding family priority. But I want to go deeper. First, one needs to distinguish first-generation Chinese immigrants like me, which is what I've been discussing, from Chinese living in mainland China, Hong Kong or Taiwan. As I mentioned, as first-generation immigrants (with generally humble nature) we have no choice but to work ten times harder than everybody else to survive in this extremely competitive country. If that means sacrificing time with family, so be it. After all, our parents endured much rougher scenarios when they were our age. Even I myself were in much worse situations when I was in China than what I'm facing here. (For that, I'm forever grateful for the opportunities this country offered me.) Being away from my wife three, four days a week does not seem all that miserable, especially in today's 24-7 connected world.
That said, what's more ironic to me is that even though, as 托的 claimed, that Americans seem to hate to live away from their spouses, they also have a higher divorce rate. It was nice while it lasted, I guess.
It's late night and I was about to sign off but the urge to blog kept coming back to me. "Alright"， I told myself, "if there's a visitor in the next minute I'll owe him/her a new one". And truth be told, the counter just went from 1900 to 1901.
One of the nice momeries of life came last week when I went to pick up my wife at the airport. It was a long flight from Beijing to Chicago. I was wandering in the terminal, with the two dozen roses in hand. It's just less than two months since I left Beijing, but it seemed so long.
"请问您讲国语吗?" ("Do you speak mandarin?") I heard a man asking me and wondering how he knew I was Chinese.
"是" ("Sure.") I nodded.
"Are you also waiting for someone from UA 850?"
"Sure."
"Is it here yet?"
"Yes, they are passing the customs, I guess."
...
"Where did you buy the flowers? In this airport?"
"No, I brought them in."
A hint of disappointment came and went away, quickly. By now, I started to be curious about the guy. Why was he so eager to talk to a Chinese and getting something for the person he's picking up? It must be some special person and there must be stories behind him.
It turned out to be 40 minutes before I met my wife, and the conversation never stopped as we both stared at the big screens monitoring the exits from the customs area. A long but brief story, told by his nondescriptive tone:
He's a delivery worker in Chicago's Chinatown, speaking no English. An ex-restaurant waiter, he was caught once by the INS as an illigal immigrant. Desperate, he went to fight in the court (with some help from an agent). Luckily, he won the case and became a citizen. The wife, who was in China and has not seen him for five years since he left, just immigrated to the US. Literally, as she was on the flight and was passing the customs as we spoke. His child, now 12 years old, was still waiting for American immigration approval. He was telling this little by little, as if it was just something natural, everyday life. And the woman he had not seen for five years was coming out any time!
I wanted to turn my head from the monitors to him, to again watch a man, a Chinese man, moments before the time he probably dreamed about for all these years. But I didn't, not because I did not want to seem strange, but because I knew I could anticipate what I would see. A face that would have no sign of excitement. After all, he's been through too many dramatic things in life, and this one, as comforting as it would be, is just another step towards his next chapters in life.
Still, I was deeply moved. By the resilience of life. By the endless pursuit of opportunities in the worst conditions.
I offered him the flowers, joking it didn't really matter much for our short separation. But he politely declined.
In no time, my wife appeared in the right exit. A different, and prettier, look from last I saw. A hug and kiss later, we found ourselves pushing her cart towards the guy. I told her the story, and she happened to know his wife as they met in the check-in line in Beijing. I also told her about the flowers. Being a super sweet person, my wife offered the flowers again to the guy with little hesitation. And with some persuation ("We don't need the flowers any more..."), the guy happily accepted.
Four days passed and I couldn't help but recall the whole scene over and over again. I am sure the wife was beyond herself when she saw her husband first time in five years, and am positive the little roses would bring more joy to the reunion. I hope the guy didn't tell the truth to her, and even wanted to have him describe how he carefully selected the flowers instead. That would be the best use of our flowers and our blessings will always be with them, secretly.
I wish I were a better writer to capture the feelings of us humans. But regardless, this would stuck me as one of life's treasurable moments. My eyes are always open for such times.
It's been two hectic weeks for me--my parents were visiting me, wife just came back from China and will start working in a different city. Now that my parents left and the wife has settled into the new apartment, I'm ready to go back to my normal life (with a new, two hours commute each way once every week). I don't know what it's going to be like. But we will have a little more money now, and as economists would say, we should be strictly happier because our choice set has strictly increased. I hope we will not prove economists wrong.
I'm still in this bigger city, and will drive back to the city where I work tomorrow morning. From the hustle and bustle of big city to the quiet neighborhood of a small town. From the glitzy high-rise apartment we just moved into to the now-familiar house we've been living for two years. From the world of two to the world of myself. I feel I'm fortunate to be able to switch between the two extreme worlds. I don't know which one I will feel more attached to.
Oh well, we will see.