Beijing Life Archives - Page 2 of 3

Being pregnant in Beijing

01.14.2014 by Bex //

Waiting for the subway after Easter brunch at Capital M. It was a really smoggy day, there were no taxis and no seats on the train.

The observant among you may have noticed that this blog hasn’t been updated in some time.

I have an excuse. I had a baby.

I had actually intended to tell you all about being pregnant in Beijing – there was a lot of material; it felt like something bonkers happened every ten minutes. But as soon as I found out I was expecting, I just couldn’t write about it.

I was so scared of something going wrong, I didn’t want to jinx myself. So the months ticked by and the blog lay fallow despite all the weird and wonderful things that were happening to me and the bump.

Then our bouncing baby boy arrived in May last year and there was just no time or energy to write.

He is a joy. But he turns eight months tomorrow and last night was the first night he slept through.

Unless I count New Year’s Eve when I forgot to turn the monitor on…

Anyway, it would be such a shame not to share with you some of the highs and lows of those crazy nine months, so before the baby wakes up here are five things every expat expectant mother in Beijing should know.

1. It’s very hard to order a cup of tea

We – me and the ever-growing bump – had gone to a very fancy European-style tea salon in Sanlitun with the British Club.

The sweet male waiter didn’t have a lot of English but it was clear he was trying to suggest I have a glass of water not risk a cup of tea while pregnant. Luckily, I had just done the ‘Doctor, my head hurts!’ Mandarin lesson so I was able to tell him that my doctor told me ‘tea is okay’!

The same thing happened after a prenatal massage. I asked for ‘cha’ but I got hot water and a knowing look from the masseuse. Better to be safe than sorry.

2. People will shout at you on the street. They may also offer you a seat on the subway.

You get used to being stared at in Beijing. I think most foreigners are stared at.

But as I got bigger and bigger, the stares got harder and harder until they eventually turned into cat calls. My favourite was the woman in our local hutong who, grinning, leant out of her shop door and yelled ‘Liang ge!’ – rough translation, ‘lady you are massive, you must have two babies in there’.

Occasionally, being such a curiosity did work to my advantage. I was given a seat, on the subway, in Beijing. Enough said.

3. Your maternity look will most days include a mask.

You may have heard Beijing has a bit of an air pollution problem. I wore my face mask a lot. I often felt embarrassed as despite the air being heavy with smog on many days, few people wear masks. Happily, this is a city where most preggie ladies get around in smocks adorned with bows and bears, so I was not the daggiest preggo in town.

4. In the supermarket, you will have to identify essential items like ‘maternity pads’ using the power of mime.

Simple tasks become difficult when you can barely speak the language and you can only recognise about three written words (big, hello, and exit, if you’re interested). Hence I found myself standing in the female sanitary aisle at Carrefour trying to ask the very helpful shop assistants which were the most absorbent ‘products’. Cue lots of sticking the bump out and pointing at different boxes, while trying to mime ‘most absorbent’.

Myself and my equally pregnant pal, Aleasha, found the maxi pads and were then given a guided tour of the nappy section where we were presented with a sample of each nappy to examine for absorbency, thickness and softness. Genius.

5. When picking up bargain baby gear, make sure it will fit in the taxi.

I was told many times that Beijing is a great place to have a baby as you can have plenty of help at home and save loads of money on baby equipment buying from other expats.

My second-hand buying spree went smoothly until the Great IKEA Changjng Table Incident of 2013.

The changing table in question can be brought new from IKEA for 300 kwai and for not much more you can have it delivered and assembled in your home. Instead, I arranged to buy a used one from a lady a couple of streets away for a bargain 100 kwai.

Hubby knew this was a bad idea from the start but given my hormonal state wisely chose to say nothing. I waited in the taxi while the other half went to get the table. He appeared five minutes later with an IKEA kids’ play table – the mama making the sale was out and her ayi had given him the wrong table. So I called the mama, who then called her ayi, who then gave hubby the right table. Phew.
Now all we had to do was get the table in the taxi.

After 15 minutes of the driver trying the table every which way, seeking counsel from the gathering crowd on the pavement, getting bits of rope out the boot to try to tie the stupid table onto the taxi, I could feel tears and panic welling. This table was not going to fit in the taxi. I was about to throw myself down on the pavement when hubby muttered the immortal words, ‘If only we had an Allen key’.

So I got on the phone to the mama, who got on the phone to her ayi, who turned the hallway cupboard upside down and lo and behold found a set of keys. I don’t know who was more pleased when we finally got the blimming table into the car – me, husband or Beijing’s most patient taxi driver.

When we pulled into our complex, the meter was reading 50 kwai and we tipped the guy another 50 kwai. So it worked out marginally cheaper than a new one. My advice? Go to IKEA.

Biking in Beijing

10.04.2012 by Bex //

One of the first things I did when we arrived for our stint living in Beijing was buy a bike.

Well, it was almost the first thing. First, I scared myself silly spending hours reading blog posts about biking here. The highlights were an American girl’s account of a very close encounter with a bus and a guy who said cycling in Beijing was best described as being in a real-life video game.

Undeterred, myself and my mate Suzy headed off to get ourselves bikes. After riding almost every one in the shop up and down the pavement outside, it didn’t take long for me to go off the budget black cycle I thought I should get and plump for the exact same model Suzy had her eye on. It’s a beauty.

That first ride home in Beijing took about 10 minutes, but we felt so ridiculously pleased with ourselves for still being in one piece, we stopped on the way home for a celebratory jug glass of sangria.

Two-wheeled adventures

Although Beijing was once the city of the cycle, it doesn’t feel like it anymore.

The car definitely rules – even in the bike lanes. So you might be pedalling along and suddenly get a huge four-wheel drive beeping from behind you. I need to learn how to shout in Mandarin ‘Excuse me, this is a bike lane!” That’ll make them think twice, I’m sure.

Needless to say riding here can feel quite scary but also really exhilarating, and so reminiscent of that feeling of freedom I felt heading off on a bike as a kid.

And you end up seeing places you never would if you were in a car or on the subway.

A few weeks ago riding back from an expat get-together we stopped to explore a section of the river and then took another detour to check out a great deli and little supermarket, where I found vegetarian Bisto gravy!

Giving it a go

I’ve met so many people who say cycling is the only way to get around the city. So if you feel like having a go, here are a few tips I’ve picked up along the way. Of course, I am hardly the oracle in this area, but they might be of use!

1. Wear a helmet. No-one here does, but there’s no way I would risk it without one. I’ve seen a couple of mangled bikes sans rider lying in the middle of intersections. As in any city, accidents do happen.

2. Take your time. A few people have stressed this. The bike traffic flows at a very leisurely pace and apparently you are less likely to have a prang if you’re also taking it steady.

3. If you get a bit scared, find someone who knows what they are doing and do what they do. I had a terrible time the second time I went out. It was driving with rain and very busy. But I spotted a woman ahead who knew what she was doing and she unwittingly guided me all the way to our apartment. She will forever be my purple-ponchoed guardian angel.

4. Use what you’re got. A fantastic American lady we met at a newcomers event told us to use our ‘different-ness’ to get the attention of drivers and make them stop. I’ve seen Suzy (who as you can see above has blonde hair and is in the process of finding a helmet) stop cars as we’re crossing the road just by putting her hand out. It’s like a superpower.

5. Lock your bike. Bike theft is apparently one of the only petty crimes you need to worry about in Beijing, but it is rife. There are places near subways where you can pay a few kwai for an attendant to watch your bike. I got my sister to bring a big lock over from the UK – but I’m still expecting the bike to be nicked at some point.

Banking in Beijing

09.26.2012 by Bex //

(Or what happens when you lose your Chinese bank card in Korea and have to get a new one)

I was lucky enough to tag along on a trip to South Korea with husband a few weeks ago. Seoul was simply delightful. One of my favourite places in fact.

The air was clean, the taxis were luxurious, and even the food courts were a sight to behold. (UV sanitised cup for your crystal-clear drinking water?)

And the shopping, don’t get me started on the shopping.

After one successful shopping trip, I treated myself to a Boston Creme doughnut from a well-known US chain.

(It’s been a while since I had one, and it instantly took me back to the summer of 1998 when I was a camp counsellor in New Hampshire and gained an impressive two stones largely due to over-consumption of Boston Creme doughnuts.)

So I’m sitting outside the doughnut shop with my purchases, camera, purse and handbag spread about around me. I may have attempted to take a picture of said sentimental doughnut. I then left the bench.

Hours later I realised I had left my little purse with my credit cards, my Chinese ATM card and some cash on the bench. I blame doughnut distraction, of course.

After several fruitless attempts to find the purse, with help from a lovely security guard and a random girl who came round the shops with me, I had to give up. It was gone.

I was a bit nervous about telling husband what I had done. My disorganisation knows no bounds and it was all my own (and the doughnut’s) fault.

However, he wasn’t cross with me. He knew, as I did, that trying to arrange a replacement bank card from our Chinese bank was going to be punishment enough.

The fun begins

So we get back to Beijing, and armed with my iPad I ventured into the bank.

First I had to explain to the helpful attendants that I had lost my card. A bit of ‘pantomiming’ and a Google Translate phrase helped with this one.

Next the very helpful bank clerk gives me a ticket for the queue and a form to fill in. All good. Only problem is the form’s in Chinese.

Rather than try to explain I can’t read Chinese, I sat for a good five minutes trying to guess what I needed to put in the little boxes.

I eventually gave up and with the help of another good-natured clerk, who was happy to communicate through the power of my iPad’s Chinese-English dictionary, we got the form filled in.

There followed much duplicating and stamping of forms, before another helpful clerk, who spoke English, explained they would be in touch to double check my address.

You can imagine my surprise when a couple of hours later said clerk and another bank worker appeared at our apartment door, with more forms for me to sign. That’s how they check an address in China, apparently. They pop round!

Happy days

I finally got to pick the card up earlier this week as we’ve been away again.

And the best thing about this little escapade? My new card has a picture of Jackie Chan on the front. I’m not even joking.