A good China morning.

One of the reasons that I so seldom post, is that as we stare down the beginning of our eighth year in China, very few things get my attention.  In the beginning there was so much culture shock (even when we thought we weren't really experiencing any), that everything seemed notable. 

Things that seemed outrageous, strange or irritable marked our every day, and I wrote about them.  Now, there is a noticeable vacuum where my observations used to germinate.  The commentary department of my brain, too often now switches to white noise...and I seldom think..."I've got to write about that!"

Today, we rose at six as usual.  It is always a harried and hectic race to feed all twelve of us, and load into our nine-seater vehicle, with enough time to make it to school.  Usually on Thursdays, according to the great white board in my bathroom hallway, is shopping day.  This is the case because on Thursdays, Daddy only teaches one class in the morning...and then he comes home and we sort of date/shop/talk/summit/slay the traffic dragons...as a team.  Alas, today however, Daddy, as King of the school's science department, must devote all his attentions to the 2015 Science Fair!  (I cannot share the location for fear that our crowds will likely already be a capacity.)

Anyway, I dropped of the Hs at the school campus and like a fish swimming upstream, proceeded to make my way to the local market to get our weekly supplies for the larder.  I arrived just prior to the doors opening, and was surprised at the numbers of souls already gathered to get shopping.  I casually alighted from the van's drivers seat, and made my way down the moving ramp, into the bowels of a massive building's basement (where no natural light has ever been.)

I made my way through the market without any incident, straining to find familiar brands that would not require me to translate the Chinese labels...and finally found my way to the meat portion of the store.  A young "meat worker" came to my side as I eyed the chicken breasts.  He, apparently recognizing me as the woman who buys more food in one week than other shoppers do in two months, inquired of me if there were enough chicken breast present for my weekly haul.  I smiled and told him that in fact there were not enough, and could he bring me some more.  Out came a big cardboard box, lined in plastic (I have trained my mind to not dwell on the food handling practices)...and he began to help me choose the ones I would like the most.  He nattered on about the price of chicken, the type of people who buy these sorts of chicken breasts, and eventually he worked up the courage to ask why I buy SO MANY chicken breasts.  I was surprised at the easy banter we shared, gone are the days when I had to pantomime to communicate, and his shock and awe at our family's size resulted in the universal thumbs up and strokes of "you are so good", "you are so capable"...

Feeling warmed by our exchange over the breasts, I pressed forward with my cart that has wheels that go in all directions, so you have to constantly fight it to keep it going straight (something that used to drive me to near lunacy on each and every shopping trip at any store in China.)

I joined the throngs of early shoppers waiting in just three lines (with 10 registers that could have been opened...another matter of sheer madness about which I used to fume and froth)...and I realized that I was towering over the early-shopping set.  All of them, fifty or more, elderly, with their hands clutching a sale item of the day, ready to fork over their one or two yuan, and to go home, or to the Mahjong tables...or just a stool in an alley...to while away the rest of the day.  I watched as some gave warm greetings to each other...and then the grandma nearest me...turned to me and said, "you buy so many, many things!"  I smiled and told her of our family size...she responded in shock and awe, giving me the thumbs up and telling me "you are so good" , "you are so capable."  I assured her that I wasn't.  This exchange in Chinese drew dozens of more pairs of eyes our way, and old aunties and uncles who clearly forgot to protect their sacred places in line...and gravitated toward us...amazed at how "you speak Chinese beautifully"  "you are a good speaker of Chinese."  I gave the culturally-correct refusals of such lovely complements, and we settled into a chat about their families, their grandchildren, where they were from, what their lives were like, what I thought of China, why did I come to China, and on, and on it went. 

Finally, the first auntie, and the man and his wife stuck in the unenviable position of being behind the foreign woman who had more food in her cart that anyone had ever seen, helped me to unload my cart, bag my things...and walked me out to my car.  They admonished me that I didn't bring enough bags, that I should have my husband there to help me, that I would get too tired and too old if I did so much work caring for so many children each day...and so much more. 

It was delightful.  Purely, delightful.  I was just sort of one of the early morning shoppers, here in my neighborhood.

I finished up my shopping, after doing a brilliant parallel parking job in a rarely-found street side spot...by walking to the butcher, taking my meat down off a hook, and watching him grind it in a machine that looked like it had been used on my great, great, great grandfather's farm...then stopping and the fruit vendor to buy two pounds of the cherries that are now in season,  after accusing her of the highest prices I'd ever heard of and settling on $1.50 a pound, and finally getting some steamed buns from the corner shop's bamboo steamers that fogged my glasses while I found my $1 to buy seven buns filled with mystery meat...

A good China morning, indeed.