Beijing Safari: From China with Love

Written on July 22nd, 2010. An email I wrote home while on my internship at the US Embassy in Beijing. My dating experience in China this time around has been pretty similar.

"Here's the most succinct summary of the difference between Western and Chinese dating: In the West, prior to marriage, a man may have plenty of girlfriends but after marriage, only one wife; In China, a man often struggles to find the one girlfriend before marriage but after marriage, he has many girlfriends.

Indeed, many men that I have talked to believe that it is an inherent right to have many women. One coworker even explained to me how having affairs keep the marriage fresh and interesting. To them, women are part of the trappings of power. And it seems that the younger the woman, the better. Sometimes my friends and I play the "mistress or daughter" game in restaurants. Whenever an older man with obnoxiously large rings and an over-priced suit walk in with a much younger, scantily-clad female who is wobbling on dangerously high heels, we wait to see if a wife and mother shows up. If not, then well, we know.

Perhaps it is for this reason that women in China are unusually demanding of a potential marriage partner. Apparently, they will not marry a man unless he has a (nice) car, an apartment (or two), and a sizable bank account (and stocks). As a result, the embassy is full of thirty year old single men who don't really know how to date and who still live with their mothers. My coworker dutifully hands over his paycheck to his mom (who saves it so he can get married) and then negotiates his monthly allowance.  My single coworkers’ dating lives consist of a myriad of blind dates that their second cousin twice removed have set up for them with "this really nice girl back in the ancestral village".  I once told a colleague that people should marry for love and then work together to build a life they want. Since then, I've been getting emails from thirty year old plus coworkers who randomly want to know what I'm doing after work. After figuring out that I'm Mormon ("You want so many kids and you wear too much clothes!"), some of my coworkers ask if I date people who are not Mormon. I said no. They then ask how people can join. I told them that since the Chinese government wouldn't permit proselytizing of any kind (100% true), I could not tell them. Even though I’m just following Church instructions, I feel that God is shaking his head every time I use the Church as a deterrent for dates.

It is a pity that you can't use the same excuse with the young single adults in the ward though. After an awkward date, a boy gallantly declared that he has decided to "pursue" me. When I politely said no thanks, he claimed that he would persist because it was probably divinely arranged if he randomly met somebody at the metro station in China and she turned out to be Mormon.

For those of you who are curious, so far, my dating life in Beijing mainly consists of dodging dates. Marines, thirty year-old coworkers, and overly friendly old men are very different from the average Utah boy who just wants to take you out biking and then, if he's getting fancy, ice-cream afterward. I think I figured that out a little late. But at least I now have more interesting stories to tell you!"

Head Bashing

My little brother, Cody, made a new friend. One who had blond locks, polite mannerisms, and a crazy cool dirt bike. Or so I had heard. He didn't even need to ring the door bell. We could hear the vroom vroom from two streets away.

After an animated discussion of dirt bikes and crushed skulls, my parents laid down the law: Our trusty old moped was good enough for Cody, but he could go and pick out a new helmet for his neighborhood rides with his friend.

Cody said that he didn't want the small, "Jewish caps" helmets that we saw in Vietnam.  I'm guessing he meant these.

So, instead, he went and got this (partly because he hoped that a genuine dirt bike will eventually follow):

Even though I'm not quite sure how much protection 20 bucks could buy you, it sure was a good deal for a part-time Halloween costume slash head gear for imaginary practice rides at home.

So Hot

My mom took me to the Chinese herbal doctor yesterday. We sat on the cold metal chairs for two hours until we realized that we could see a less popular doctor and be admitted in the next minute. Deliberately picking lower ranking doctors was probably not the best strategy, but I suppose this was at least a somewhat calculated decision as opposed to my usual practice of picking the ones with the best sounding names.

We lifted the half bed sheet curtain and peered inside. The doctor waved us in and motioned for us to sit on the rickety chairs facing her. She gestured for me to put my right arm on the arm cushion and clamped it down with her three middle fingers.

"Oh, is that a painting of the Suzhou canals?"

"Shhh."

She bent her head down a little as if to hear my pulse better.

"Does your waist feel sore?"

I shook my head emphatically.

"Do your breasts feel enlarged?"

"If only."

She shot me a look.

"Sorry."

"I know what is wrong with you. You're generally healthy but you suffer from hot blood."

I looked at my mom with a questioning look. My mom nodded studiously.

"So what does that mean? Like the weather being too hot? "

"No, it just means that your blood is too hot. Too much yang. No more mangoes, fried foods, or hot pots. Come back in two weeks."

Resigned, I grabbed the doctor's note and headed to the medicine room. I didn't bother looking at the prescription, preferring not to know what (sea horse? scorpion? dung?) would be in the bitter concoction I would have to drink twice a day for the next two weeks. I was praying for the milder roots and maybe even the occasional insect, but I had always kept my hopes conservative when it came to Chinese medicine.

Ugh. Hot blood.