Sorry for the long break between posts. We settled into a routine in Weifang, and to be honest, it didn't make for interesting blog material.
Almost everyday was the same: we woke up, ate breakfast at the hotel, SB went to work, I biked to Starbucks to read, write, and drink a real cup of coffee, she came home, we ate at the hotel, we watched a movie or TV shows, and then went to sleep. Rinse and repeat.
Writing this makes me realize why roadies have a hard time talking to people about their experiences. When a non-roadie hears we travel for a living, they think we go on extravagant adventures to exotic places and meet weird natives.
That couldn't be further from the truth. It is true that this lifestyle has its moments of extravagance, exoticism, and weirdness, but the percentage is at best 85% normal every-day life to 15% adventure. A similar percentage I'd give to the average domestic life in the U.S. (SB works for the weekend, but time off isn't guaranteed.)
The setting of our everyday life is different, and that's about as routine as adventure gets for us. The differences, however, are not always a cause for excitement. In fact, they more often lead to frustration and isolation.
Don't get me wrong; I'm still extremely grateful and excited we decided to put our lives on hold to do this for three years or more! When it's over, it will make settling down so much easier, because we crave the everyday comforts that our current lifestyle lacks.
I will, however, miss the rejuvenation and excitement of moving to a new home every three to four months. With each new place comes a new set of difficulties to overcome and amenities to appreciate. Thankfully, Weifang had a lot of the latter and only a few of the former.
Almost everyday was the same: we woke up, ate breakfast at the hotel, SB went to work, I biked to Starbucks to read, write, and drink a real cup of coffee, she came home, we ate at the hotel, we watched a movie or TV shows, and then went to sleep. Rinse and repeat.
Writing this makes me realize why roadies have a hard time talking to people about their experiences. When a non-roadie hears we travel for a living, they think we go on extravagant adventures to exotic places and meet weird natives.
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| Fighting to get a fan was the highlight of Week Two in Weifang |
The setting of our everyday life is different, and that's about as routine as adventure gets for us. The differences, however, are not always a cause for excitement. In fact, they more often lead to frustration and isolation.
Don't get me wrong; I'm still extremely grateful and excited we decided to put our lives on hold to do this for three years or more! When it's over, it will make settling down so much easier, because we crave the everyday comforts that our current lifestyle lacks.
I will, however, miss the rejuvenation and excitement of moving to a new home every three to four months. With each new place comes a new set of difficulties to overcome and amenities to appreciate. Thankfully, Weifang had a lot of the latter and only a few of the former.
Bikes
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| Weifang bike racks |
Sara Beth and I were members, and we used the bikes daily. Almost every morning, I biked to a nearby Starbucks, because the hotel only served instant Nescafe. Yuck!
Weifang is an easy city to get around. It's laid out on a grid system with long blocks between intersections. Most roads are four to six lanes wide with a dedicated lane for bikes and buses. Sometimes a median separates the bike lane from the main road.
True to Chinese form, however, cars use the bike lane to park and take short cuts.
"Traffic rules" is an oxymoron. Rules are suggestions. Sure, most drivers stay in their lanes and stop at red lights most of the time, but never if they turn right. Right turn, NO stop.
We adapted quick to the traffic culture, though. The bikes don't have gears, so they move at a slow, steady pace that helps other drivers adapt to bikers and bikers anticipate other drivers.
Biking was stressful at times but adopting their habits helped us arrive at our destinations without incident.
Flowers
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| SB under what I think is a Chinese Pear tree |
I'm no arborist, but a cursory internet search turned up that most trees are varieties of magnolias, pears, cherry blossoms, and lilacs to name a few.
The flowers one week were very fragrant. The whole city had a floral scent, and the fragrance covered up the usual smells of dust and pollution.
One night while we were biking under the LED glow of the city's environment-friendly street lamps, SB said that Weifang had to be one of the most beautiful cities we've visited. I agree.
Weifang is known throughout China as the kite capitol. Every Spring, the city hosts an international kite festival. We missed the fest by one weekend, but kites were still everywhere in the city.
Kolapo, the chief on this assignment, took me to a kite outlet store (of-sorts) to buy postcards. While we searched through the haphazardly-stocked shops, we came across a huge, torn-up dragon centipede kite.
The centipede kite usually has a large fabric head at the front followed by paper discs of decreasing size as it works down the tail. I bought a smaller version as a souvenir.
Next to the dragon kite, we found a shop that sold postcards. As Kolapo was checking out, I noticed the clerk etching a woodblock print. He created the wall scrolls around his shop.
The designs were simple but colorful and depicted young women from past eras writing, playing the pipa, or drinking tea. I bought one of a woman in winter, and Kolapo bought one of a woman writing under a cherry blossom tree.
Weifang was one of the more difficult assignments when it came to interacting with locals.
Many people would leer, spit, or curse at us, more so than any of the Chinese cities we've visited in the last year.
On more than three occasions, women between the ages 18 and 40 would literally jump and gasp in fear when they noticed I was a foreigner (a.k.a. 'laowai'). They'd cross the street while I was out walking in the afternoon sun. In line at a grocery store, they'd shuffle as far away from me without abandoning their groceries or spot in line. It was weird! Their fear or disdain of 'laowai' was uncommon in our travels in China, but it was on full display in Weifang.
The one demographic that didn't fear the 'laowai' for the most part were children.
It takes a lot of courage to speak a foreign language to native speakers, but the kids of Weifang had that courage in buckets!
We'd be eating in a restaurant and a seven year-old boy would come up to us mid-bite and yell "Hello! What is your name? My name is Liu. Nice to meet you!"
To SB's chagrin, I'd respond and interact a little bit because their courage deserved some reward.
The kids were happy to practice their English, but their parents smiled the biggest. They were proud of their child's display of courage and intelligence, and for a moment, the fear or concern of the 'laowai' would abate.
Generalizing about Chinese people is dangerous and stupid, a mistake I've made more than once. Weifang reiterated that point with our two disparate interactions with locals.
Kites & Scrolls
Weifang is known throughout China as the kite capitol. Every Spring, the city hosts an international kite festival. We missed the fest by one weekend, but kites were still everywhere in the city.
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| Traditional Weifang kites |
Kolapo, the chief on this assignment, took me to a kite outlet store (of-sorts) to buy postcards. While we searched through the haphazardly-stocked shops, we came across a huge, torn-up dragon centipede kite.
 |
| Kolapo and the head of an old dragon centipede kite |
The centipede kite usually has a large fabric head at the front followed by paper discs of decreasing size as it works down the tail. I bought a smaller version as a souvenir.
Next to the dragon kite, we found a shop that sold postcards. As Kolapo was checking out, I noticed the clerk etching a woodblock print. He created the wall scrolls around his shop.
The designs were simple but colorful and depicted young women from past eras writing, playing the pipa, or drinking tea. I bought one of a woman in winter, and Kolapo bought one of a woman writing under a cherry blossom tree.
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| Etching a woodblock |
Laowai
Weifang was one of the more difficult assignments when it came to interacting with locals.
Many people would leer, spit, or curse at us, more so than any of the Chinese cities we've visited in the last year.
On more than three occasions, women between the ages 18 and 40 would literally jump and gasp in fear when they noticed I was a foreigner (a.k.a. 'laowai'). They'd cross the street while I was out walking in the afternoon sun. In line at a grocery store, they'd shuffle as far away from me without abandoning their groceries or spot in line. It was weird! Their fear or disdain of 'laowai' was uncommon in our travels in China, but it was on full display in Weifang.
The one demographic that didn't fear the 'laowai' for the most part were children.
 |
| Kolapo and a young English-speaker from Weifang |
We'd be eating in a restaurant and a seven year-old boy would come up to us mid-bite and yell "Hello! What is your name? My name is Liu. Nice to meet you!"
To SB's chagrin, I'd respond and interact a little bit because their courage deserved some reward.
The kids were happy to practice their English, but their parents smiled the biggest. They were proud of their child's display of courage and intelligence, and for a moment, the fear or concern of the 'laowai' would abate.
Generalizing about Chinese people is dangerous and stupid, a mistake I've made more than once. Weifang reiterated that point with our two disparate interactions with locals.
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