Home Away From Home
Everyone needs a home away from home, if for no other reason than to keep him from taking for granted what he has at his own home. I grew up in eastern Nebraska, but frequently enjoyed the journey to Max, a tiny town in western Nebraska where my mother's parents lived. Their hobby farm, complete with chickens, rabbits, the occasional other livestock, large garden, and alfalfa field welcomed my family, no matter what the season. With difficulties in the running-water department, and heating department, their old farmhouse, required a bit of patience, and reminded me how much warm water and warm air meant to me. Even with its physical failings, though, their home exuded warmth of a different kind: love. For this reason, we loved visiting grandma and grandpa Lapp, chasing their livestock (sometimes slaughtering their livestock), and picking cherries and apricots from their fruit trees. Their home was not mine, but it was as much home as any other place.
After graduating from high school, I have called at least two other places home--St. Paul, MN and Whitefish, MT--before moving halfway around the world to Kunming, China to teach. One thing led to another, and I married a beautiful Chinese woman who grew up in He Kou, a tiny city sprawling along the Hong He river facing Vietnam in southeast Yunnan Province. With family now only an eight to ten hour drive away (depending on traffic), He Kou, and more specifically Suli's childhood home, has become my new home away from home. From Nebraska, to Minnesota, to Montana, to Kunming, and now to He Kou. The photo above is Suli's childhood home, with her sister and brother-in-law's car sitting out front. The barred window to the right looks in on a bedroom, which has another bedroom behind it. The doorway enters on the main sitting room of the home. Lastly, the shed roof on the left end of the building houses the kitchen, which cannot be accessed without stepping outside.
In many ways, this home reminds me of my grandparents' home in western Nebraska, but the most obvious similarity is the smell. Situated in a tiny village outside of the main city of He Kou, Suli's home smells of dust and livestock (chickens mostly). The wonderful smells issuing from this simple kitchen (pictured above with Mama) also remind me of my grandparents' home. Their kitchen was quite a bit more technologically advanced than Mama's, but those two enormous, cast iron woks create some incredible food, even though they are still wood-fired. The table on the right acts as both a dinner table, and at times, a mahjong table, and we surround the table sitting on the simple benches like the one in the photo.
Just outside the back door of the kitchen, seen on the right in the background of the previous picture, is the outdoor shower and the "sink" for washing dishes. This stainless steel bowl with cold tap water was my station after meals. Because I really am not good at making Chinese food, I gladly (well, not always gladly) accepted the job of cleaning up after meals. I am actually sitting on a very short stool, because I am also not very good at squatting, which is how most Chinese people "sit" when chairs are not available.
While some might argue that the tap water is drinkable, no one in Suli's family drinks that water. They either drink bottled water, or they drink the spring water that comes out of the hill about two-hundred yards up the road from the house. I also felt comfortable volunteering for the job of carrying the water back to the house in galvanized steel buckets. Suli's family was actually pretty surprised at my willingness to do this job and at how well I performed it. I hardly spilled any water (only when I was picking up the buckets). In a small way, this form of fetching water also reminds me of bringing in water from the pump well at my grandparents' home. They also had a well that worked on an electric pump, but we actually enjoyed watching the water come out of the old pump well.
The front room is the main meeting room, but during Chun Jie, with two different mahjong tables being used, some of the family shifted outside to play on the front porch. In fact, most of the families in the neighborhood tend to play mahjong on their respective front porches. When I walked down the street to the local cesuo (outhouse, which also reminds me of my grandparents') the sound of mahjong tiles being "washed" (mixed) between games could be heard in every direction.
After graduating from high school, I have called at least two other places home--St. Paul, MN and Whitefish, MT--before moving halfway around the world to Kunming, China to teach. One thing led to another, and I married a beautiful Chinese woman who grew up in He Kou, a tiny city sprawling along the Hong He river facing Vietnam in southeast Yunnan Province. With family now only an eight to ten hour drive away (depending on traffic), He Kou, and more specifically Suli's childhood home, has become my new home away from home. From Nebraska, to Minnesota, to Montana, to Kunming, and now to He Kou. The photo above is Suli's childhood home, with her sister and brother-in-law's car sitting out front. The barred window to the right looks in on a bedroom, which has another bedroom behind it. The doorway enters on the main sitting room of the home. Lastly, the shed roof on the left end of the building houses the kitchen, which cannot be accessed without stepping outside.In many ways, this home reminds me of my grandparents' home in western Nebraska, but the most obvious similarity is the smell. Situated in a tiny village outside of the main city of He Kou, Suli's home smells of dust and livestock (chickens mostly). The wonderful smells issuing from this simple kitchen (pictured above with Mama) also remind me of my grandparents' home. Their kitchen was quite a bit more technologically advanced than Mama's, but those two enormous, cast iron woks create some incredible food, even though they are still wood-fired. The table on the right acts as both a dinner table, and at times, a mahjong table, and we surround the table sitting on the simple benches like the one in the photo.Just outside the back door of the kitchen, seen on the right in the background of the previous picture, is the outdoor shower and the "sink" for washing dishes. This stainless steel bowl with cold tap water was my station after meals. Because I really am not good at making Chinese food, I gladly (well, not always gladly) accepted the job of cleaning up after meals. I am actually sitting on a very short stool, because I am also not very good at squatting, which is how most Chinese people "sit" when chairs are not available.While some might argue that the tap water is drinkable, no one in Suli's family drinks that water. They either drink bottled water, or they drink the spring water that comes out of the hill about two-hundred yards up the road from the house. I also felt comfortable volunteering for the job of carrying the water back to the house in galvanized steel buckets. Suli's family was actually pretty surprised at my willingness to do this job and at how well I performed it. I hardly spilled any water (only when I was picking up the buckets). In a small way, this form of fetching water also reminds me of bringing in water from the pump well at my grandparents' home. They also had a well that worked on an electric pump, but we actually enjoyed watching the water come out of the old pump well.The front room is the main meeting room, but during Chun Jie, with two different mahjong tables being used, some of the family shifted outside to play on the front porch. In fact, most of the families in the neighborhood tend to play mahjong on their respective front porches. When I walked down the street to the local cesuo (outhouse, which also reminds me of my grandparents') the sound of mahjong tiles being "washed" (mixed) between games could be heard in every direction.
After over a week of sleeping on an extremely hard bed, coming back to Kunming made me appreciate my nice, soft, supportive bed, but it also made me appreciate my home away from home. When my back feels better, I look forward to the next trip to He Kou, my new home away from home.
posted by Roland at 7:40 PM
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He Kou's surrounding mountains actually seem taller than the mountains encircling Yunnan Provinces largest city, Kunming. Even so, He Kou's much lower elevation--80 meters above sea-level--mean these southern mountains never see snow. With very few well-paved roads in this region, most produce makes it to market via smaller vehicles (i.e. motorcycles). As one can see in the photo below, the motuoche line this city's narrow roads and can squeeze in and out of traffic, even when the cars and trucks stand in gridlock. Suli and I took a spin on a relatives motorbike and explored the banks of the Hong He river during our Chun Jie break.
Because He Kou is a major border crossing, many of the local people make their living taking photos of tourists who come to south China just to go visit Vietnam. While Suli's family may not stand out as tourists, anyone with white skin is assumed to be a visitor. However, on this day, the person who approached our family actually hoped to engage me in speaking English. Our photographer was actually home on holiday from University in GuangDong, where he studies Math and English (language). He was so nervous to talk with me that the muscles in his face were twitching. However, his mother prevailed upon him to speak to me, so we did have a short conversation before he used my camera to take our picture free of charge. Suli and I stand on the left of this "mile marker", while Mama, Xiang Lan (the younger of Suli's two older sisters), and Yao Shan (Xiang Lan's husband) stand on the right. And yes, Mama is really that small.
Because the Chinese and Vietnamese governments keep fairly close tabs on all products entering and exiting their respective countries, many vendors find that transporting smaller amounts on smaller vehicles makes getting through customs a bit easier. This "sanlunche" (literally, three-wheeled-vehicle) carries just about as much as it possibly can with out crushing the wheels. In many cases, the tires of these vehicles have been filled with some type of hardening foam, essentially turning the wheels into solid core tires. This allows them to carry greater loads, but pedaling them can be quite bumpy. While I am uncertain what these green bags contain, I do recall two, and sometimes three, grown men hefting them onto this tricycle; so you can imagine the weight bearing down on this vehicle.
On the He Kou side of the border, all these Vietnamese goods find their way to a local Vietnamese market. This cavernous "outdoor" bazarre sells everything from fruits, vegetables, and dog meat to swords, woven baskets, shoes, and children's toys. On this day, Suli and her sister looked at baskets and shoes, while I milled about and checked out the battle axes (seen on the right side of this photo) and swords. There is one other major import from Vietnam that also finds its way into He Kou: prostitution. One result of China's one-child policy is an entire generation of young men who are having a hard time finding a wife; this has lead to an increased traffic of young women from Vietnam seeking out a better life in China. Some get married; some just end up selling themselves. For the latter, the sad part is that they view this as a better life than the one they had in Vietnam.
He Kou, just like all the cities in China, is feeling the prosperity and the difficulties of an expanding population. As many young Chinese people flock to the cities in search of a more prosperous life than the one their parents had, cities like He Kou scramble to accomdate their growth. Old, often historical, buildings and infrastructure are destroyed, making room for more modern systems and highrises. In He Kou, this growth seems to be coming from both sides of the border, and it makes for a very vibrant society. Because this is the city of my in-laws, I will probably be visiting He Kou at least once a year, but I enjoy this small-city. Some day I hope to venture to the Vietnam side of the border, but for now, I will enjoy this Century City and all it has to offer.
