Not for all the tea in China but maybe for Prada

So the question everyone has is, “now what?” followed by, “are you going to go back to work.”  I am not prepared for either of these questions.  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  The plan was to be in Japan for three years, minimum.  The plan was to finish my book, try to get it published and then figure out what to do then.

We can’t even go back to our house in Long Beach. It’s rented until 2013.

But now back in Los Angeles, at the Oakwood, the pressure is on but the answers are not.  Russell has several job opportunities, in spite of turning down two already.  His boss made good on his promise and offered him two jobs, one of them is in Beijing.  As in China.  China!

We went on a looksee trip.  I was there for three days.  After the second day, I was questioning why anyone would want to live there.  It was freezing cold, polluted and rude.  It wasn’t like Tokyo, at all.  I thought it would be.  I was wrong.

The people were rude.  They always seemed to be expectorating.  It was disgusting. 

The food was good, better than America, but not as good as Tokyo.

There was new building going on everywhere.  Because of this, everything was coated in a fine layer of dust.  The cars, the streets, and all the apartments I looked at.  I looked at a lot of apartments and some villas.  Like a target, Beijing is ringed by five concentric circles, or ring roads, that circle the city center.

According to Beijing law, dogs larger than 15 inches at the shoulder, Ranger is 18 inches, are not allowed within the 5^th ring.  However, according to our real estate agent, this rule does not really apply to expats.  Huh?

Before flying to Beijing I’d spent a couple of hours online, scaring the shit out of myself, reading about dogs in China.  That is: reading about dog massacres and dogs on the menu.  It seems the Chinese government thinks dog owners are lazy.  Until China received a lot of bad press just before the Olympics, dogs were massacred en masse.  Um, yeah, this does not sound good.

But of course, everyone in China assured us, this was all just propaganda.  There are lots of large dogs in the city.  Uh huh.

A lot of expats live in villa compounds, which are gated communities, designed after familiar neighborhoods in the States.  It was surreal.  One neighborhood looked exactly like a community you would expect to find in North Jersey with bricked brownstone townhouses.  Another looked like an Orange County neighborhood with stucco houses and blond women pushing 1.5 kids in strollers, golden retriever in tow.  The one I liked best was called Beijing Riviera – a picturesque planned community of French country manors.  It was like living outside of Paris, without the croissants and well, the French.

The only problem is, all the villa compounds are located outside the city, a minimum of a one hour commute in.  A driver is required.  Driver?  Yes.  Apparently foreigners are not even allowed to apply for a driver’s license until they have lived in the country for one year.  And the driver’s test is so convoluted it’s almost impossible to pass.  A majority of the questions have nothing to do with driving, more to do with China communist axioms. We thought Japan was hard? But even if you could pass the test you wouldn’t want to drive in Beijing. 

Driving in Beijing is worse than driving in Manhattan. This is not an exaggeration. Traffic lanes are taken as a vague suggestion.  The shoulder and sidewalks are code for “fast lane.”  There are no rules.  Worse, over 90% of the drivers on the road are brand new.  A reported 1,500 new cars, that is new drivers, are added daily.  Daily.  There are already so many cars, a lottery has been established prohibiting drivers from being on the road one day a week.  Yep.

But besides the long commute, living in one of the villa compounds means I would be isolated from the best part of Beijing.  I know I said “best”.  The one good thing I found in my brief visit was the astounding growth of the city.   It reminded me of the internet boom.  Remember that?  The promise of instant IPO induced wealth, Crystal champagne flowing, flagrant, unapologetically conspicuous spending. And I thought this was a communist country?  What the hell?!!  This place is more capitalistic than 5^th Avenue at Christmas.  That’s how it feels in Beijing.  There are shiny, state of the art shopping centers going up every where - dazzling buildings flashing with neon and multi-floor digital advertisements encouraging the populace to keep spending, keep shopping, keep imbibing.  I like to spend.  I like to shop. I definitely like to imbibe. Exciting.

Within the city center, skyscraper communities are created just for expats and given familiar, idyllic names like Palm Springs and Central Park.  They are cities onto themselves, with grocery stores, dry cleaners, beauty salons and the ubiquitous Starbucks on every corner.  My favorite is a brand new development called Xanadu.  Yes, Xanadu, like the frothy 1980’s movie starring Olivia Newton-John as a muse.  It’s all dark wood, chrome, and white leather furniture, sunken bathtubs and high-end stainless appliances.  This could work.  I could see us living there, at least on the ground floor.  While I would LOVE to live on the 25^th floor looking over the sprawling city, I don’t think the residents would appreciate riding up multiple stress filled floors with Ranger – aka menace to society.

Speaking of dogs, we saw a lot of large dogs frequently, which was just slightly more reassuring.  Whenever we encountered an English probable dog owner, I asked them about relocating their dog.  The answers were all the same. Make sure to get your dog registered and whatever you do, DO NOT allow your dog to be put into quarantine. Dogs die there.  G-r-e-a-t.

On the third day Russell arranged for us to have drinks with one of his former associates who lives in Beijing.  He told me I could ask him anything.  “Anything?” I asked doubtfully, a glint in my eye.  “Anything,” he replied.  Ok, here goes.

My first question was, “Why would anyone want to live here?”  He laughed and replied with a question or was it a statement.  “You just came from Tokyo didn’t you?” 

“Yes, why?,” I replied suspiciously.  He said, “Everyone who comes to Beijing from Tokyo says that.  Everyone expects it to be like Tokyo.  It’s nothing like Tokyo.”  No shit, I thought.

“Think of it this way,” he suggested helpfully.  “Beijing is like Manhattan.”

Excellent explanation.  Beijing is absolutely analogous with New York. If someone had told me that before I came, it would have been exactly what I expected.  Beijing is exactly like New York, albeit before Mayor Giuiliani cleaned it up.  “Oh, now I get it,” realization dawning on me like a blush after a stolen kiss.

Hmmmm.  That perspective changes everything.

“Beijing Blond” does have a nice ring to it.  Hmmmm

Farewell My Concubine – Good-bye Tokyo

When Russell came into the kitchen announcing his assignment might be ending earlier than we expected, my first reaction was….”but I’m not ready yet. I haven’t finished my book!  We haven’t even gone to Kyoto yet.” A subtle kind of panic began creeping in, spreading slowly like sweet liquor burning down my throat.

It was a week before Christmas and Russell’s boss told him, “Don’t worry about it”; enjoy your vacation.” Don’t worry about it?!!!  That was right before we left for Australia. Nice.

Three months later and three job offers to be considered, I found myself packing up the Tokyo apartment in a daze.  We had made the most of the time we had left.  Perhaps you read about it.  Besides Australia, we went to Hokkaido, Hakone and Kyoto, even Bali before we packed it in, literally.

I had no regrets, other than leaving before expected.  We did more in the almost two years we lived in Tokyo than most expats who have lived there for several years. I had stayed true to my blog, posting at least once a week.  We had pretty much crossed everything on our Japan wish list off, except for Hiroshima and Okinawa.  We had hanami-ed like there was no tomorrow. There wasn’t. We had made some good friends, including Japanese.

Those friends and the experiences we shared, not to mention the earthquake and tsunami, have changed us for the better and those changes will linger forever, like the ghosts of Christmas past.

Standing in the empty apartment, the floors gleaming and shiny, the walls bare and promising, seemed so familiar.  Familiar because it was 18 months ago I had stood there waiting for boxes to be delivered.

Ranger was expectant.  He could sense the change.  He was tense with anticipation.  I put his leash on one last time for our final walk in the park we had gone to almost everyday we had lived in Japan.  “Take a good long whiff”, I encouraged Ranger, “it will be your last of Tokyo.”

The park was vibrant with Spring.  The clouds of sakura had cascaded away the week prior and only the very last blooming petals still clung to the trees.  The turtles were finally out in number, sunning themselves on the muddy banks of the pond. 

We saw the Great White Pyrenees in his usual spot, holding court in the central yard.  I bowed my familiar greeting to his owner, she bowed back, as usual.  As usual, Ranger bristled.  He never cared much for that big white dog. 

As we crossed the traditional Japanese bridge, Ranger charged the group of pigeons clustered hopefully on the bridge, pandering for a handout.  He never liked those birds much either.  Behind us a clamor erupted.  We both turned around, surprised.  To our astonishment a bird of prey was diving down from the trees and had snagged a pigeon in mid air.  But it was the screeching of a concerned crow that had caught our attention.  Apparently the pigeon must have been a friend of this crow because the crow was dive-bombing the hawk as it struggled to bring the pigeon to the ground. 

Well, you don’t see that every day.  In fact I never saw that in this park, ever! And I’ve been coming to this park for almost two years.  The very first day Ranger and I came to this park, we stopped at the entrance to read the various signs, most of them warning foreigners what they can’t do.  One of the signs illustrated all of the varieties of birds that reside in the park.  They were organized in a pyramid, depicting the order of the food chain.  At the top of the food chain was a bird of prey.  That first day I made a goal to try to glimpse all of the birds on the sign.  I had managed to see all of them except one: the bird of prey.  That is until today, my final day in Tokyo.  How strange is that? It must be a sign.

Ranger and I looked at each other.  The hawk descended to the ground and started pulling the pigeon apart.  Nobody else, not the old fishermen, nor the young mother with her stroller, seemed to notice what had just happened, or the carnage still going on. It was as if it happened just for us.

We walked back to the empty apartment slowly, our last image of Tokyo reverberating, like a secret shared between us.

I wondered if Ranger would miss Tokyo.  I know I would. I would miss so many things.

*The exquisite food, I’m ruined for life. 

*The amazing juxtaposition of old and new.

*The polite, reserved nature of the Japanese people, their easy humor.

*The haunting 5pm chimes.

*The smell of Summer; the chill of Fall

*BBQing on the tiny Smokey Joe with real charcoal

*Snow on tiled roofs

*Perfect fish

*Seasonal vegetables and delicacies

*Wine on the rooftop garden and the bats

*The Toto toilets; ah yes the toilets; we must buy one when we settle back in the States

*The sakura, most of all the sakura, reminding us that life is fleeting

Fleeting………

Thank you Japan.

The adventure continues…..