He looked up at me, staring, quietly but intensely, studying my eyes, my nose, pondering, as if I am his whole world.
I noticed him, smiled and said,” why are you looking at me this way?”
He gave me a little smile. Little red lips. A hint of shyness. But kept looking, with such admiration.
Baby cannot talk yet. But I think I heard him telling me, you are beautiful.
小小子儿， 坐门墩儿，
哭着喊着要媳妇儿。
要媳妇儿干吗？
点灯， 说话儿，
吹灯， 作伴儿，
早上起来梳小辫儿。
D出差了。 昨晚，和宝宝挣扎换尿布的时候，不小心扭了腰。半夜睡不踏实， 后来借了宝宝的大河马抱着， 才睡了。 早上，阿姨有事没来。 偏偏宝宝又有点闹。和他玩什么他都只玩几秒钟， 该睡早觉的时候不管怎样都不睡，还要哭和叫。听肖邦也不行， 菊萍姐姐也不行， 抱着很长时间也不行。 我于是很生气， 可是我生气宝宝也还是闹。 后来才明白， 宝宝是饿了。 果然吃了个牛肉胡萝卜的罐头， 就好了。我把他放到地上玩， 让他听童谣。然而， 这个小淘气一会儿要开电视， 一会儿要把保护书架的纸板拽下来， 我没折只好又抱起他， 跟着歌谣跳起来。
盼星星， 盼月亮，盼望闯王出主张，
不当差， 不纳粮， 大家快活过一场，
金江山， 银江山，闯王江山不纳捐，
吃他娘， 穿他娘， 吃穿不够有闯王。
。。。
I did a bit sewingwork today. There are some extra fabric from making curtains earlier that I plan to make backdrops for the see-through closet doors. It is one of those tasks in the back of my mind for a long time. And today is the day.
No. 1: The noise of the bicyle break
In Northern China where I biked everywhere since when I was twelve, bicycle breaks are made of two pieces of rubber connected to the handle, via a wire and two ganggan. The rubber pieces are about 2cmx0.5cmx0.5cm in size, located on either side of the back tire, just inch away from the interior of the tire skeleton. When you grab the break at the handle, the rubber fasten on the tire and the bicycle stops.
In shanghai, bicycle breaks use a different mechanism. The break is a round steel box located
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Why do I feel I owe an explanation to Half In Half Out of me not writing from October 2006 to June 2007? Is there a rule that says I must be responsible for the consistency and reliability of new content coming out from this place in the digital sea that nobody knows? There isn’t.
I do want to introduce HIHO X. A five-month old baby of ours. Yes, I’ve split myself in two, HIHO X came out of me.
Yes, I have been busy living.
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I learned yesterday that Chopin died when he was 39, of pulmonary tubucolosis, after a “turbulent relationship” lasted for ten years.
When I told this to Y, she commented that it seems like many artists died young. I said true. This seems to be typical.
We had this conversation when Chopin was playing. This is part of the early education program for X.
It was a picture perfect homey scene yesterday afternoon. Clean airy cool house, beatiful baby X sat on the floor, satisfied after a good feeding of banana goo, Chopin playing, X listens and stares at the stereo.
I talked about Chopin and his young death with Don later. He tried to determine whether there is a statistical correlation between genius composer and young death. Chopin, died young; Bach, old; Handel, old, Mozart, young; Beethovan, middle aged. He concluded that with these five data points, we have a double-peak curve. It is not true that genius composer died young. I stared at him with amazement. There is really no subject that he couldn’t extrapolate into a large thesis.
The subject of music came out as important after X showed trace of genius at day five by being excalated by Arial’s music.
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进了里弄， 惊喜地看到妈妈和小园推着宝宝从公园回来。 他们走到弄堂口，在院门前停下，妈妈去上台阶，开了门， 再回身，下台阶，弯腰， 抬了童车前底部的横杆，保持弯腰的姿势，上台阶，和小园一起把宝宝连车抬过两级台阶，进了大院门。
妈妈回身关门的时候， 我突然看到了妈妈。
Shanghai has been sunny, blue and warm straight for a month and a half. The omni-present cool sleeping weather during the night, the right combination of temperature, moisture and sun during the day provide so much comfort, one almost thinks about pardoning Shanghai for the impossible torching long summer…
Something is bothering me these days. And it took me a while to realize that I may be missing America.
That is a strange concept, isn’t it? I am a Chinese. I was born in China, I grew up in China, and although I spent ten years in America. I have never changed my nationality and all along have considered myself a Chinese. And here I am, living working breathing in China soil, poised to settle down, with a home, a husband, and now almost a baby. And I feel homesick.
Am I allowed to miss America? Am I allowed to miss the quiet lab life I spent in Minnesota? My quarky professor who experimented to use the liquid nitrogen to freeze down the corn in his feet? My friendly talktive labmate who tried to persuade me that a particular kind of packing peanut is bio-degradable by stuffing a bunch from the box and eating them? And the African dancing class, the driving in the forest, and the lake-side cabin covered in snow.
Am I allowed to miss the corner of 44th and 9th Ave. in a crisp autumn morning? Am I allowed to miss the purchuto mecerrela with fresh spinach and grilled red pepper? Am I allowed to miss the creativity, the luxury and the humor in the display window on upper fifth Ave? Am I allowed to miss the CBGB night with coworker’s band playing?
Our pasts are romantic. The present pain and suffering are usually over-emphasized as we focus on resolving the issues, overlooking the beautiful, the interesting, the touching aspects that asked for less attention. When that present became the long past, we wake up in small hours of the night, remembering those sweet little things, wishing we’d enjoy it more, wishing we’d cherish it more.
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I always wondered about the business models behind the tiny stores aligning the streets in Shanghai’s old neighborhood.
Most of these stores are literally holds in the wall, probably three meters wide, six meters deep. Some of them has the space above the two-meter mark built up as sleeping area. The fancier ones has glass window fronts with doors, the less fancy ones, like the ones near my apartment, has the whole interior open to the street, while the sidewalk becomes the extension of the stores.
Of the stores aligning my block of the street, three of them are fruit stands. One of them sells a variety of fruits all year around, which makes a lot of sense; another sells only watermellon - it is easy to tell because there is nothing but a pile of watermellon in it this summer; the third one sells only one kind of fruit too, but it changes. It was Wuxi peach for a while, then the peach was replaced by watermellon, now it is selling grapes.
Two stores are hardware stores. They seem to sell the same stuff, which are everything you can think of needed in a household. Mouse trap, mosquito net, paint, concrete power, wires. They’d refer to each other if one of them don’t have what you need, in the rare cases. However, neiter of them sells the filters for air conditioners though. I had to go to the air conditioner reparing shop between them for that. That shop however, don’t have filters to sell either. They don’t look like they are selling anything as all. As far as I can tell, every time I pass by, there are nothing but four young guys playing cards.
Other than fruit stands and hardware stores, we’ve got a man’s shoe stand selling old-fashioned leather shoes, a Kiti specialty store selling pencils, bags, and other little girly things with the Kitti face on, a clothing store selling clothes styled from 1980s, a store making wraths for dead people, a DVD store that sells pirated as well as non-pirated version of DVD movies, a specialty food store selling flavored cooked duck neck. Two stores right across from each other are copy-and-printing shops. Old computer, old copier and old printer. I’ve never seen customers in the store. When i used them, it would almost be a big deal. The lady inside would insist doing the photocopies for me, but left thick folding marks on my documents while unfolding them.
The largest and the most successful store on the block is the bicycle shop right outside our gate. Hundreds of bicycles aligned tidily in the space three or four times bigger than the regular store width. The bicycles include both old-fashioned Chinese brand such as Flying Pigeon and Revolution, but also mountain bikes and city bikes with foreigh brands such as Giant. The backwalls are filled with big advertisement posters with bright colors and modern logans. A lot of times one would see someone get their bicycle fixed, or have a new bicycle assembled. An old guy and a young lad around twenty keep the store. Both of them can play guitars. At times when the business is quiet, they’d play with the guitar. The young one has an electric guitar.
Selling or not selling, store owners hold a life. They don’t really close the store, many stores open till late, store keepers’ personal life just spread when meal times come. Late afternoon, vegetables and meats are being washed, peered and chopped. Usually one or two woman would be there preparing, and the rest people, guys and children would sit around on the sidewalk and watch. I watch them too on my way to the farmer’s market. The dishes they prepared always look so delicious, and they always seem to know what is the best vegetable of the day. So on the days I buy and cook, I watch and see what they are cooking, then i try to buy and make the same thing.
After dinner, when we take our after-dinner walk, their dinner was done a while ago, but people are still sitting around the folding table on the sidewalk, sometimes with the leftover dishes still on it. The TV stacked in a corner are always on. Rarely anyone would focus on it though. Of course the world cup is an exception.
There used to be a hot spicy noodle place at the corner of the next block. A few months ago, that block was totally torn down and now it is under construction for the No. 10 line subway station. Our side of the block, may escape the torning down. But across the street, construction stairs started to be set up.
(To be continued)
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