It's time to go... Guangzhou.

Wow, how is that it’s been almost 3 weeks since I last posted. Time moves way too fast.

The last three weeks have been a blur of long days, networking events, a bit of sight-seeing and shopping on weekends. My boss was away – which made me the boss – and I definitely noticed the change in workload and responsibilities. He’s back now, and guess what? My time in Guangzhou is up! Yep, I’m packing my bags and saying farewells and preparing for the next chapter… it was to be that I’d be heading home to my loved ones in a week or so, but the situation has changed. Instead of heading home to the Melbourne spring and daylight savings, I’m heading north, to the Chinese capital of Beijing, where the weather gets cooler every day in the lead up to winter. An alarming fact I read earlier this week was that the average temperature in November was 9C. In December, the average drops to toe-numbing 2C. AVERAGE. As in, it will get warmer, but it will also get MUCH. COLDER. Yeee-ikes!

Before that, though, I have another 48 hours or so before I leave sunny and funny Guangzhou. I have had a fabulous time and there has been much to be grateful for.

Cheap food
Cheap cabs
Good coffee
Gorgeous tea
Delicious fruit and veg
Fabulous foot massages
$10 pedis and $5 manis
Great climate and warm weather
Wonderful people
New friends
Money-can’t-buy experiences

For example, on Wednesday night, a colleague invited me to join the dinner of a friend and business contact he was attending that evening. Sure, I said. Sounds good. We got there and big and tall man wearing tracksuit pants, a stained polo shirt and slippers answered the door and ushered us in. His long, thick black hair was twisted into a bun, and his wide brown face was split by a big white smile. I am not proud to admit that I thought he was the help. I was wrong. “This is Andy”, my colleague said. “Today is Andy’s birthday”. Huh? I had thought it was a business dinner, but it turns out I was crashing the guy’s birthday dinner. Andy had a fabulous, split level apartment. He had a very modest, undecorated bedroom, whilst the rest of the apartment was a showcase for his two passions – Chinese art and French wine & cognac. There was a temperature-controlled cellar, full of old and rare wines (the oldest I saw was 1902 vintage), and another 3 rooms full of ancient Chinese artefacts – Jade Buddha statues, intricately carved swords, ivory and wood carvings. As Andy was still in the throes of preparing dinner (yes, he was catering his own birthday dinner), we looked around and I started to get a sense that Andy was a very eccentric, very (very, VERY) rich man. And his was ‘new’ money.

Further guests arrived. The only thing most of us had in common was that we didn’t, or barely, knew the birthday boy. It seems Andy had no friends to invite. He had two ladies from the Private Business section of his bank there, a highly ranked Air Force official, also invited by my colleague, as Andy was looking at building a tall tower in another city in Guangdong province, and needed contacts of influence to get approvals on the tower height. There was a wealthy man and his wife, who hailed from Andy’s hometown, but they’d never before met. And then there was me. Another ring in. I spent much of the dinner smiling and nodding, with no idea of what was going on, as they all spoke in their native Mandarin.

After dinner, and 7-8 bottles of wine later (lots of toasting ‘to new friends!’), Andy wanted us to have a full understanding of his wealth and the depth of his wine and art collections. Traipsing through his oddly furnished bachelor pad, he pointed out things (in Mandarin) to lots of oohing and aahing – I had no idea but joined in. Then, it was time for the birthday cake. Andy went to change for this, and returned in head to toe traffic cone orange. His hair was now in a ponytail, and around his neck, he was wearing an enormously heavy and detailed 2000 year old gold necklace from the Tang dynasty. I shit you not. More oohing and aahing, and then time to sing happy birthday and cut the cake. At this point, I was desperate to hear English – even if I was the only one speaking it! – and blurted out how ‘in Australia, when you cut the cake, if you hit the bottom you have to kiss the nearest girl”. My colleague translated, and my revelation was met with hoots and cheers and Andy couldn’t get to the bottom quick enough. He wanted to kiss all the girls (maybe it was lost in translation), and this then led to 10 minutes of photos. Of me. With everyone. Holding wine glasses. Holding a bouquet of flowers. Holding an artefact. Wearing the necklace. I was feeling like the characters at Disney World and very ready to leave, when the next part of our night started.

We piled into my colleague’s car and headed out to a very affluent neighbourhood where the wealthy man and his wife lived. They were obviously very proud of their home, and took us on a tour of the three levels. Many things in the house were very beautiful. But all together? Tack-o-rama. Very wealthy people with a need to communicate how wealthy they were by acquiring many very expensive (and often, very ugly!) things. ‘Please, take photos, it would be my honour’, said the wealthy man’s wife. She then woke her daughter up, and dragged her son out of the shower, to have their photo taken with me in the sitting room, then the foyer, then the tv room, and then back to the sitting room. “We are so honoured to have you in our home, you are so beautiful, like William’s Kate!”. 1. I know I look nothing like Kate. 2. Whilst I looked quite presentable at 8.30am when I started work, beautiful was a long way away 15 hours later. My lipstick was but a memory, my hair greasy and stringy, my face had eaten my makeup and my eyes – thanks to my contacts – were like two pee holes in the snow. I am horrified to think that they might frame and display these photos taken with me in their homes, and show their friends!

Somewhere in that time, the gentleman from the air force had become extremely intoxicated. He had learned how to say “I love you” and was saying it to me every 2 minutes. I wanted to Gretel Killeen him: It’s time to go, Mr Gu. He was bumping into walls and knocking over tea cups and the wealthy man’s wife could barely keep her pasted on smile on her face. I was, as I like to call it, completely shutting down. I was exhausted, I had no idea where I was and I’d had enough. I’d visited two very different homes of two very (very VERY) wealthy individuals, one very eccentric and one as dull as boiled rice (but with a budding interior designer wife!), but I needed to exit. Immediately. Sooner, if possible. I got home about midnight and was kicking myself – I’d had my photo taken many times, but didn’t take any myself. Photos would definitely help convey the bonkers-ness of my night.

So now, I’m packing up and saying my goodbyes to my friends and colleagues in the Guangzhou office. We went to lunch yesterday and they surprised me with a gift afterwards – a red porcelain ornament on a necklace. Very beautiful and completed unexpected. I am very bad at goodbyes (I cry even if I’m not sad!) and it will be hard to say zaijian to Guangzhou.



What will I be in Beijing? Blissful? Bewildered? Or maybe Merry in the Middle Kingdom? Will have to figure it out when I get there!

It's all relative

I had another China moment last week. After a long day in the office and feeling a bit tired and emotional, I decided to take a taxi home. My apartment is a whole, hmmm, 3km from the office?? I usually catch a train, for the grand sum of just under 2 kwai (about 30 cents), so decided to splurge and spent 11-12 kwai for a cab home. I leaned in and told the cabbie where I wanted to go before getting in – “sure, sure” he says. Hai Feng Road, no problem. I get in (the front – no seat belts in the back) and immediately, he goes a different way to every other time I’ve travelled by car from the office. Right, I’m thinking. New driver, new route. No problem. Until he gets onto a ramp taking us in the TOTAL OPPOSITE direction of where I want to go. “Wrong way”, I tell him in my broken Chinese. I’m pointing down Huacheng Road “this is right”. I can almost see him thinking “Bugger. Stupid foreigner with no Chinese knows the way home”. No sh!t, Sherlock. I don’t know much, but I do know that you don’t need to take me north west to drop me 3km south east.

He then starts zigzagging up and down roads, and the meter is now up at 18kwai (A$3) – it should be 12 kwai (A$2), MAXIMUM. “No good! This is wrong!” I’m insisting. He is saying nothing, like he is a geographically-challenged mute. We’re up at 24 kwai – twice what it should be – and I’m unravelling. I call the reception desk, and ask them to tell him how to get there, pronto. "It's too much", I tell them. "I don't think he is lost, I think he is trying to get bigger fare". I pass the phone to him, he listens for about 30 seconds and hands the phone back to me. Suitably chastised, and a couple of (correct!) turns later, I’m home. The fare is up at 30kwai. No way am I paying that. I am soooooo p!ssed off. “30” he’s telling me. “Nope. Should be 12. Not paying 30”. (At least, I think I said that) “25?” he barters. “WRONG”, I say as I get out and offer 20 kwai to him. He accepts, and doesn’t push me for the other ten – he knows he’s tried to dupe me, and he knows that *I* know he’s tried to dupe me.

Fuming, I head up to my apartment but remember I need to pick up some fruit, veg and juice, so I drop in at the deli. Oooh! They have my favourite yoghurt from Australia! (Black Swan Greek-style yoghurt, in case you’re wondering). I pick it up and put it in my basket, completely unperturbed by the 86 kwai price tag. I also need *tampons*. They’re selling at the bargain price of 62 kwai. I start laughing, out loud, in the deli. No doubt they think I'm nuts. I’m paying almost 14 bucks for yoghurt, and 10 bucks for a small box of tampons, but I’m getting aggro and haggling over $1.50 with the cab driver. What is wrong with me!?!

I guess no one likes to feel that they’re (literally) being taken for a ride. The cab driver sized me up immediately – I couldn’t speak the language, I couldn’t direct him (other than NO, WRONG, BAD, LEFT and RIGHT) and there was very little I could do about it. The yoghurt – it's a luxury I’m prepared to pay for. The tampons – a Western necessity I didn’t want to go without. Paying $5 for a $2 fare – not fair and not necessary. Cabs are not a luxury here – they are cheap and plentiful and (usually) pretty good and honest.

So what am I grateful for… I’ve learned again that lesson about money. You know, how ‘shoe money’ has a different value to ‘bill money’ (or in my case, cab money –v- yoghurt and sanitary wear dosh). But even when you break it down, money is money and everything has a value, even if it varies wildly around the globe. And I’m very grateful that my fave yog was in stock at Corner’s Deli – a reminder of home and a comfort food.

Food, glorious food!

I’m not quite sure what to call the current holidays happening in China – some say National Holidays, some say Golden Week, but I am very, VERY grateful for some time out. After watching the AFL Grand Final with Aussie expats here in my temporary home in Guangzhou on Saturday, I flew up to Shanghai on Sunday afternoon to spend a few days with my best mate, L. It was so great to be back in the city after my trip 9 or so months ago, in the middle of (a very cold!) winter, to explore this gorgeous city, the Paris of the East.

When L and I started in the organisation, we were both a part of the Food & Beverage team. We worked with wineries, fruit and veg growers, cattle and dairy farms and many, many others, to grow their businesses into overseas markets. L had a background in the wine industry, whereas I had a logistics background, and a BIG LOVE of the good things in life – delicious good, gorgeous wine and great company. We have shared many food adventures together, L and I. From yumcha in Chinatown to 13 course degustation at Vue de monde, laksa in KL, curries in Bangkok, hairy crab in Hangzhou – we’re pretty adventurous and we’re very appreciative. Good food – coupled with a good experience – gets a big tick from us both. Exploring new cultures through cuisine is another big thing I’m into, but after 11-12 weeks, I’m feeling a bit Chinese’d out.

I arrived Shanghai on Sunday evening, and L introduced me to a gorgeous little Italian trattoria she’d just discovered, around the corner from her home. Sharing lots of little plates, we enjoyed buffalo mozzarella and tomatoes with extra virgin olive oil, marinated mushrooms and artichokes, yummy smoked salmon, delicious spinach with garlic, all washed down with our bevvie of choice, San Pellegrino. The break from rice and chopsticks that I needed!

The next morning, we walked an hour to our breakfast destination, a little café in the French Concession, where we enjoyed freshly made yoghurt with homemade muesli, freshly squeezed OJ and very. Good. Coffee.

More walking and exploring, chatting and window shopping brought us to the afternoon, where we pondered over what to do for dinner that evening. L is embracing TCM – Traditional Chinese Medicine – while she is here, and has a few TCM cookbooks on her shelf. We went through a selected a couple of dishes that looked to have (reasonably) easy to find ingredients and techniques, that would also treat ailments like dry skin, lack of vital energy, and sluggish digestive systems. We made our list and hit the local Chinese supermarket. It soon became a game of ‘Help the waiguoren’ (foreigner), as we tried to source black sesame seeds, fresh bamboo, Chinese rice wine, shiny asparagus, Dodder seeds and fresh bamboo. With about half of what we needed purchased from the supermarket, we were able to purchase the balance from the wet market and pharmacy a few doors down.

Preparing and cooking a meal with someone is a great thing. You chat about the ingredients, the technique, what it might taste like (or what it should taste like). It is quite therapeutic to go through the motions of preparation, process and then consumption.

The results were perfect – a white turnip herbal soup, a brown rice and bamboo shoot with dodder seeds dish, and black sesame drink to wash it all down. Perhaps not everyone’s idea of a great meal, but what we needed after months (and in L’s case, almost 2 years) of not really doing much cooking for ourselves. The dishes might not look like much, but they were delicious!



Tuesday was a gorgeous day, weather-wise, and perfect for a trip to YuYuan Garden, the Bund and Suzhou Creek neighbourhood. Knowing we would be having a big meal that night, we grazed during the day on tofu and tea snacks, xialongbao (Shanghai dumplings), and street food. It kept us going, and we were nice and hungry by the time we were due to dine at one of Shanghai’s top restaurants, T8. The head chef at T8, a talented young Aussie bloke and friend of L, had created a fabulous Autumn degustation menu and we were committed to trying it. The chef sent us out a Lobster Congee – not on the menu – to whet our appetites. Divine! We then started the 7-course menu…



L had the cod, I had the beef. My highlights were the Salmon Tsunami, beef and the chocolate soufflé.





SO YUM! How I love love LOVE gorgeous food! So happy and thankful to share such an amazing culinary experience with a fellow foodie and friend.

P.S. Check out the Bvlgari San Pell bottle... Fancy pants!

A Dog's Life

I have had a recurring nightmare these past few weeks.

It is set at my parents’ ‘old’ house (they moved last year after 28 years), and I don’t know the people living there.

In the dream, I return from China after being away for 3 months or so, to collect my dogs from this house. Remember, this is the house I grew up in and have so many wonderful memories of.

The new owners are not home, it is dark outside and I am there to collect my dogs. They are nowhere to be found in the house. Finally, I find them, chained up at the front door – starving, dirty, shivering. No beds or toys or comforts. They are not the happy little woofers I know and love, and my heart feels like it will burst with pain for what I’ve subjected these two loves of my life to.

Of course, I wake up from the nightmare and breathe a sigh of relief. Because whilst I am here, and they are there, I’ve left them in wonderfully capable and loving hands. My (four-legged) boys are in their home, enjoying all their creature comforts, with my (two-legged) boy. Every time I speak to D when he is home with them, I can hear my babies in the background, play fighting and barking happily and growling at D to stop giving so much attention to the phone and more ear scratching, tummy rubbing and rough housing with them, please. And another Scooby-Doo treat, too, please D. Well, with Leo, anyway. Mishy just wants cuddles and to get his tongue up D’s nose and inside his mouth.

On the few occasions when D has needed a break or is unable to look after the boys, they go to my folks’ new place, for a visit with Nanny & Poppy, and happily tear around the backyard and go for walks around the new estate and enjoy cuddles with my Dad.

I am so fortunate and feel most grateful that I have a bloke who loves my ‘fluffy, white, girl’s dogs’ as much as he does, as well as parents who enjoy the cheeky antics of this feisty twosome.



Leo, the Westie, and Mish, the Chihuahua, Christmas 2009

Thanks for loving and looking after my babies so well! xo

****************************************************************

In that vein, another story for unconditional and unwavering love for a canine kindred spirit. My dear friend, C, this week said goodbye to her faithful and much-loved Sheltie, Walter, at the ripe old age of 17.5 years old. I have known C for almost 7 years, and we bonded instantly. I have known her boy, Walter, just as long, and often think of them as “C & Walt”, like a couple, a team. Waltie has long been a feature in all aspects of C’s life, joining us for dinners at Albert Park, birthday drinks at Lamaros, long weekends on the Peninsula. My boys and I have spent a few nights couch-surfing with C and Walt, and them with us, and I’ve long referred to C’s boy as my boys’ “Uncle Walter”.

I’ve watched C rearrange her life to look after Walt in his twilight years, providing him with palliative care for 5 or so years until his soul’s departure from this earth this week. C’s love and dedication to Walt in his old age is something to be admired – we hear stories of people who can’t do that even for their own family, let alone a dog. But C did it, without complaint, for days, months, years. Because for those of us who love a dog, they are more than a pet. They are a trusted adviser, a part of our family, a protector, dear friend and soul mate.

In C’s email to her friends to let us know of Walt’s passing, she wrote “Walt exited this world when it was the right time for both of us - and in his departure and the days before - he handled it with patience, courage, grace and dignity. We had our chats about his passing beforehand and in the last day I kept up routine and smiles not to burden him with my grief. It was business as usual as far as Walt would be concerned. I am all the better for having such a blessed dog in my life, Vale dear ol Walt - you are and will be sorely missed”.

Indeed you will, sweet Walter. Grateful I had the chance to know you, too, and see the enormity of the love my dear friend C had – and will always have – for you.



Dear Uncle Walter at his 14th birthday party

Crazy/Beautiful

Falling in love. It's a crazy thing, yes? While I am a person with a lot of love - for my family, my boyfriend, my dogs, my friends, for seasons (summer and spring), for traditions (Anzac Day), for occasions (any time my beloved Blues are playing, and the AFL Grand Final, irrespective of who is competing), I can count on one hand the times I have consciously felt myself falling in love, or realizing 'this is love'.

Recent recognitions have been the arrivals of my much adored niece and two darling nephews. I can recall vividly the physical reaction I had to meeting my niece the first time - a swelling of my heart and physical pain that had a sweetness to it - a feeling that I knew was love. That I would devote my life to the protection and adoration of this tiny human. A feeling I experienced again when her brother and her cousin were born. This is love.

Then, a short time after I began to see my boyfriend, it dawned on me again. "Shivers. What is going on here?" I remember being alone, in a hotel room in Kalgoorlie, of all places. We'd just gotten off the phone and I was replaying the conversation in my head when I thought "here we go... I'm falling in love with this man".

And then, tonight, it happened again. I'd just attended my umpteenth Chinese banquet, shared 13-14 courses of food with 500 or so of my peers here in Guangzhou, exchanged countless business cards and partaken in endless toasts. Afterwards, driving home, from 'old' Guangzhou to my apartment in Zhujiang New Town, it struck me - I love this city. This crazy, beautiful city of 10.2 million, wild disparity and unexpected beauty. I truly love it here. And - in a different time or different way (with my bloke and my pups and regular visits with my family), I think I'd happily live here. For a while, anyway.

Falling in love with a city is a strange thing. I am seeing everything through fresh eyes. The next 5-6 weeks will fly by, but I hope to make the most of my new paramour while I can. And grateful for the chance to fall in love, again.

Old friends are gold

I can’t remember when I heard the saying, but it has stuck with me for many years.

Make new friends, but the keep the old – one is silver, the other gold.

There is nothing better than time with an old friend. This weekend, I was thrilled to receive a visit from my absolute bestie. L and I have been great mates since our first overseas trip together in November 2005. L joined the organisation in October 2004 and I in January 2005. We had clicked and been friendly before then, but that trip cemented our friendship and I could probably count on two hands the number of days that we *haven’t* been in contact in that time. L has been living and working in Shanghai for almost 2 years, and in that time, we’ve been in contact every day. Seriously. Whether by email, call or text. I realise this perplexes people, including my family and boyfriend – ‘what could you possibly still have to talk about?’. As it turns out, plenty. We are never short on topics of conversation. Work, life, romance, celebrity, religion, sport – we’ve covered it all and then some.

This weekend marked the second time I’ve seen L since February 2010 – the last time was over Christmas/NY 2010/11, when I flew to China to spend the holidays with her. You never expect, when you start a new job, that you’ll make lifelong friends. You hope that you’ll click with a few, so that you have lunch and coffee dates, someone to chat to in the kitchen, and strategise with when things get political. I am lucky that in the past 7 years, I have made some great friends – people who know my ups and downs, and I theirs; people I will travel hundreds of kilometres to see and celebrate milestones, like weddings and birthdays, and people I will get a stamp in my passport for – such an unexpected delight.

24 hours before L’s arrival, I felt like crap. Achy, tired, chills and fever. Raw throat. I went to the clinic and discovered I had tonsillitis – and that I’d likely feel worse before I felt any better. Yay. Not. I called L to tell her, and that I wouldn’t be up for much for the weekend. “Good!” she said. “I’m exhausted. Let’s just chill out, do nothing.” Hurrah. Not many people would be happy to fly two hours to visit to do nothing. The expectation is that we’d doll ourselves up, put on our party frocks and have a wild, raucous night. But I’m not like that. And neither is L. And so, our rockin’ Saturday went a little like this: Manis & pedis. Cheese platter and chit chat. Flicking through mags, no chit-chat. Indian takeaway and True Blood. Lights out. And I loved it. Sunday was more of the same – chit chat, True Blood, lunch, foot massage. Early night. Heaven.

It’s nice when you can just be yourself. And just ‘be’. I’m grateful that I have a friend who knows me so well and understands – even better than me – the pressures of the job we do up here. It’s manic and exhausting. Relentless, but rewarding. Brilliant but hard to define. So thanks, L, for a weekend of mooching and green tea and Sookie Stackhouse. Let’s do it again soon.