I guess that’s self-explanatory.
Walked down to Starbucks today—because yes, even in China they are everywhere. Hot chocolate was good. Getting locked out of the apartment, not so good. I prevailed, though, thanks to the maintenance crew.
Over the weekend I went with my dad to Suzhou to see one of its famous gardens, The Humble Administrator’s Garden. Here are some pictures.
This vine/tree is over four hundred years old. And it’s still healthy.
So, after walking through the garden for several hours, my dad and I were starving. We found this sweet potato vendor close by in one of the local neighborhoods and could not resist. For less than US$.50, we bought two sweet potatoes, piping hot, and ate them right there on the street corner. Just peeled back the skin and stuck our faces into them. Best thing ever, almost like candy.
By the way, in the comments Jaycine asks if I’ve ever written about what it’s like to be “hapa”—a term that I never heard growing up in Seattle, but that I believe means half-Chinese. The answer is no, and the reason is simple: I just don’t think about it all that much. When I was growing up, well-meaning teachers and other adults would ask if I felt any kind of stress or pressure because of my mixed heritage. Which I always thought was a stupid question. Biracial does not mean cut into two pieces. It does not mean a game of tug-of-war between cultures. People are who they are, and I am just me. I give credit to my parents for that solid sense of identity.