I'll focus firstly on our new living situation--can we say wonderful? On February 1st, we moved into an apartment across the street from the university. We are also directly above a supermarket, hair stylist, and most importantly, four cushy coffee shops. I wish I had a fireman's pole so I could slide directly down into my favorite one! This place literally is an answer to prayer, and we are very blessed by it for a few reasons: our neighbors are much quieter, the windows actually fit into their frames (and therefore keep out most noise and cold), we have a washing machine for laundry, fridge and kitchen for preparing food, and we have separate rooms for common area and privacy (as opposed to one big dorm room).
By US standards, the apartment isn't incredibly big or fancy--we still don't have a clothes dryer or oven, the counter space in the kitchen is limited, and the common area is fairly small. Yet for China standards, this place is especially nice. It is obvious from the top end appliances and fixtures that our landlords (who used to live here before becoming even wealthier and buying a bigger unit) took pride in the apartment. Unlike the university's dorms, which reek (sometimes literally) of the stench of shoddy work and minimal standards, this apartment is classy.
We've also felt classy because of our ability to prepare our own food. For some people, this may not matter, but for me, this has taken on great importance the past few years. I became more interested in cooking while in graduate school. Burdened with abstract thoughts of the world's problems and interpretative puzzles that have stymied intellectuals for millenia, I could at least come back home to prepare a nice meal. The process of producing food worked a different part of my brain (and let the analytical part take a rest), and it was a nice accomplishment to have concrete results for my efforts. While I love pondering paradoxes and contemplating God's great mysteries, sometimes I simply appreciated a nice chicken and broccoli dinner that had a definite beginning, duration, and completion.
This culinary satisfaction brings us even more contentment here in China. I may not understand what that guy on the street was shouting at me earlier, but at least I can make a tasty and healthy bean stew for dinner. I have no idea why every day at 6:30pm traffic comes to a halt outside our apartment as the rush hour "one way" ban lifts prematurely, causing pandemonium with cars pointed in all directions and blaring their horns as if their lives depended on it. But I can toast some bread and savor it with some jam and tea. I don't comprehend the laws of economics that govern stores here, throwing basic principles of "supply and demand" to the wind and replacing them with bullhorn-adorned salespeople touting perfectly useless products. But I can stir fry some eggplant, bok choy, tofu, mushrooms, tomatoes, and spices together for a lovely curried vegetable meal. In short, preparing my own food helps me feel a little breath of tranquility in a country hyped up on new money and old superstitions.
That's probably enough food for thought (pun intended :) for today. I'll include some pictures below of our new abode, and hope to blog again soon as I'm finally recovering from the trauma of living through Chinese New Year in a Chinese dorm.