Malaisy days and malaisy nights

Sitting on my daughter's laptop in true Zoom lockdown fashion

This post is akin to the idea of a contractual obligation album, a hastily put together entry to ensure that the month of March is represented in the upload rollcall. Why the dearth of activity? One reason could be due to my wife having gone back to Taiwan to see family after an absence of more than 800 days. For the last half of March I've been in the role of Single Dad, doing familiar but rusty tasks such as cleaning and cooking. This hasn't left much incentive to go out and...do something with my daughter. Shu-E will be returning to China tomorrow, so A Curmudgeon Abroad should be back on track cum April.

Or perhaps not. For quite some time now I've been feeling generally unwell, a sense that I'm on the verge of falling ill but not knowing with what. Most days now I feel exhausted, fatigued, having lost interest in many things that used to occupy my attention. I've written before of physical issues such as the (presumably) low blood pressure-induced light headedness, or the depression for which I've now been taking medication. A new ingredient has been added to the emotional huǒguō: anxiety. The cause? Well, duh, it's Mandarin training. In the fall of 2021 I came into the program at FSI with what I hoped was a more open mind, a greater willingness to accept the way the program is structured, and to not fight against that which cannot be fought against. But as spring 2023 is upon us, the same frustrations and resentments toward the taxpayer-funded glorified 补习班 have reemerged - why am I not being taught language that is actually relevant to the type of work I'll be doing starting this summer? Only this time, progress in language acquisition has not only halted, it's actually been regressing - vocabulary and sentence patterns that should've been internalized by this point now struggle to be recalled, while the gap between what's in my head and what should be coming out of my mouth grows longer and wider. With only two months remaining in the program until the final evaluation, it's no wonder why the medicine cabinet is getting more cluttered. 

So, will I manage to pull everything together at the last moment and emerge from the program triumphant, confident to take on the new challenges lying ahead? Yeah, right. More likely I'll somehow muddle through, assuming that I don't literally drop dead from my heart stopping, or at least not being able to carry on because of running out of breath doing simple tasks (two irrational fears that have gripped me recently). Despite the glass being half-empty, June holds out the hope that once Mandarin has finished, the onset of summer will prove to be reinvigorating, and I'll begin to feel that old enthusiasm of being overseas, especially in a place that holds a great number of possibilities. 

Yeah, right. Oh well, these past 37 days between blog posts have not been entirely bereft of non-language study endeavors. The following are some examples:

The Crescent Moon Muslim Restaurant 弯弯月亮 is located among the hutong 胡同 in the Chaoyangmen 朝阳门 area. It's an eatery serving up Xinjiang 新疆 dishes , run by members of China's Uyghur minority, who have had a tough time of late at the hands of the authorities:

Anticipation. It's making us wait:

Among the dishes we ordered were these Xinjiang-style baozi 包子, which more closely resembled an English meat pie:

Grilled lamb on skewers was a must...:

...as were the baked flatbreads:

Taking into account the fact we drove to the  restaurant, the libation of choice for this lunch was sweetened Xinjiang milk tea:

Walking through the hutong on the way back to the car:

In another sign life is in the process of returning to a circa-2019 state of normality my daughter took part in a weekend swim meet (the first of two in March), complete with parents in attendance. The meet was held at an international school located in the Beijing suburbs. Amber took part in five heats (two freestyle events, one backstroke race, and two relays). In her words, her performance was "mediocre", but her team won the 200-meter freestyle relay, with our Janet Evans* swimming the second leg. My wife took this action photo of our daughter diving into the water:

Showing off the ribbon she received as a result:

As we were walking through the main hallway on our way back to our car, I noticed that Taiwan was represented...sort of. The flag on display was actually that of "Chinese Taipei" 中華台北, that ridiculous moniker Taiwan has to use if it wishes to take part in international sporting events. Notice the Olympic rings on the flag:

The Great Tiramisu Hunter stalks his prey:

Snowflake Beer for a snowflake. One of my Mandarin teachers describes me as being jiāoqì 娇气 - "fragile", an observation seemingly driven home by some serious gastrointestinal troubles on one Thursday night/Friday morning:

Still, I had recovered enough to join the girls in going out for lunch on the ensuing Sunday afternoon. Another Lonely Planet recommendation, Zhang Mama 张妈妈川味馆 is a surprisingly cheap Sichuan restaurant:

For those unaware, Sichuan cuisine is known for its spiciness. My daughter, not sharing her mother's love of spicy food, contented herself with some fried rice and veggies. Shu-E and I, on the other hand, ordered the xiāngguō 香锅, a bowl of chilies, spices and vegetables large enough for two - we opted to have it with some pork ribs 香锅排骨:

The food was good, but unsurprisingly very spicy - so much so, that even my hard-to-please wife was satisfied. Alas, that evening back home I would make repeated visits to the bathroom. 娇气.

Irrelevant, but close to the Zhang Mama branch where we had lunch is a large building that presumably serves as the headquarters for the Workers' Daily 工人日报, an economic newspaper with a solid socialist name:

  

As a friend pointed out, "cigar" appears to be spelled incorrectly:

It isn't all Chinese food all the time...:

As the weather continued to warm up, the cherry blossoms started to bloom. There were a few trees along the Liangma River; unfortunately, it was somewhat difficult to appreciate the beauty of the 樱花 when the AQI exceeded 175, and the cloudless sky was covered by a brown haze:

Continuing the 桜 theme, the weekend before the wife (temporarily) abandoned her spouse and child for the bright lights of Taiwan, the three of us visited Yuyuantan Park 玉渊潭公园. The Central Radio & TV Tower guided the way from the subway station:

By Shu-E's calculations, it was still a couple of weeks before full bloom, so the hordes were staying away from the park:

The girls compete to get a good shot of one of the few flowering trees:

The park has a history going back some 800 years, though the lake behind "only" dates back to 1773:

Framing the picture:

As we exited the park to the south, we were confronted with the official side of the People's Republic. The main building in the photo below is the China Millennial Monument 中华世纪坛, which houses the Beijing World Art Museum. To the left is the suitably socialist-looking Military Museum of the Chinese People's Revolution:

With Shu-E in Taiwan, the girl and I have occasionally gone out to eat (in addition to ordering in and attempts at cooking). At one "American-style" restaurant near our residence, Amber took a look at her surroundings and all the paraphernalia, and asked if this is what non-Americans imagine how life looks in the United States. The table mats answered her query:

 

Diners sitting in a Cadillac-shaped table, while a video playing an updated version of "The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" plays on the screen behind them:

With typical timing on my part, by the time I went outside again to see more of the cherry blossoms, the peak bloom had already passed:

I may be dealing with a seemingly perfect storm of anxiety, depression and poor health, for a certain Siamese life is great, especially in one particular sunlit room on the second floor. While Shu-E has been away, Timi and Amber have done some bonding. I'm generally ignored, unless I'm the only person around who can refill his food dish, in which case I'm the object of unconditional love:

From the Abbott and Costello classic Buck Privates:

*Why the reference to a late 80's/early 90's American Olympian, and not someone more modern, such as Katie Ledecky? Simple - I knew Ms. Evans' brother, who lived in the same dorm building as me during my matriculation days.