An American in China blogs his Chinese wife’s experience of navigating the local health care system and social customs as they prepare for the birth of their baby (Part 1, Part 2).

A blog series in-progress at Asia HealthCare Blog (Part 1, Part 2) provides an introduction to the current state of China’s rural, elderly population, and includes interesting details like this:

Population composition in rural China is unnaturally skewed due to internal migration, resulting in the majority of rural peoples being women, children or the elderly. The rural population is sometimes referred to as the ‘38-61-99 Army’.

March 8th (38): Women’s Day
June 1st (61): Children’s Day
September 9th (99): The day of honouring the elderly in China

I’m not kidding; that’s exactly what these signs say:

Currently in the Chinese media, and now all over the English China blog world, is the news that China is considering passing a law that would make it illegal to eat dogs and cats. But even if it passes, I have my doubts that those hypocritical pork-eating bourgeois specie-ists will succeed in enforcing their shameless attack on cultural practices that go back thousands of years.

The image on the right is a bag of dog meat one of our Chinese teachers gave us as a gift.

Anyway, I just couldn’t pass up sharing a photo of a sign that says “Cats are friends, not food!” （猫是朋友，不是食物）。 Also visible in the photo:

• “Refuse to eat cats.” （拒绝吃猫）
• “Please show humanitarianism, set them free.” （请发扬人道主义 放过它们）
• “Cherish humanity’s good friends! Refuse to eat cat and dog meat.” （爱护人类好友！拒绝吃猫狗肉）
• “Refuse to eat cat and dog meat. Cherish humanity’s friends.” (拒食猫狗肉 爱护人类之友)
• 请口下留情 is a play on the phrase 手下留情 (“restrain your hand”), as in showing mercy or sparing someone’s feelings by not meting out more punishment than is needed, often in the context of criticizing. On the sign they switched “hand” (手) for “mouth” （口）, so it might mean something like, “Be merciful; please restrain your mouth”.

For our personal encounters with cats and dogs as food in China, including a downloadable translated menu from a local dog meat restaurant, see here:

• Dead puppies (don’t look, Grandma!) – menu included
• Obligatory cat eating post
• 龙虎斗

This is a dog meat restaurant near our old apartment:

The last time we ate dog, at a Korean restaurant with one of our teachers and her Korean fiancé:

Honestly, it tasted better at the dump-of-a-restaurant two photos up, but it wasn’t great at either place. Not like some of the donkey I’ve had.

Pronounced: cài gǒu
Literally: food dog
Means: the kind of dog eaten in China.
Also see:

• “Cats are friends, not food!”
• 龙虎斗

The ancient Chinese perspective that divides the word into Chinese/civilized/victim/moral and foreigner/barbarian/aggressor/immoral is alive and well today, according to the author of China: The Pessoptimist Nation, which “shows how the heart of Chinese foreign policy is not a security dilemma, but an identity dilemma. Through a careful analysis of how Chinese people understand their new place in the world, the book charts how Chinese identity emerges through the interplay of positive and negative feelings in a dynamic that intertwines China’s domestic and international politics. China thus is the pessoptimist nation where national security is closely linked to nationalist insecurities.”

From The NYT: ““Why does China produce so many clever people, but so few geniuses?”
[...]
“Our children learn to calculate fast, play the piano, to do everything well. They have a lot of skills. But when they grow up they are lost, because no one ever asked them to think about what they want.”
[...]
…Chinese school … demands obedience to hierarchy, bone-hard study and uncritical thinking.”

So I’ve just got off work and I’m about to leave the building for the ten minute walk to the subway. One of my upper level English students sees that I’m planning to eat a pear on the way and she’s immediately concerned.

“You’re going to eat that outside?”

“Of course!”

“But it’s cold and windy! You can’t eat that outside!”

“Why not?” I know exactly what’s coming.

“You’ll get wind in your stomach!” The other students voice their agreement.

I know what she’s talking about because I’ve heard this before. Fear of getting cold “wind” in your “stomach” is considered at least as reasonable as covering your mouth when you cough to avoid spreading germs. But this time, instead of having the same old predictable conversation about how foreigners don’t know anything about getting “wind” in their “stomachs” or our “fire” going up and down, I decide to have fun with it.

“It’s no problem. Foreigners can’t get wind in their stomachs. Only Chinese people can get that disease. Getting wind in your stomach is a special disease only for Chinese people.”

She doesn’t believe me, and gives me an annoyed look to boot, like she’s not sure if I’m making fun of her/China/Chinese medicine or not. And I’m not, mostly; I’m just curious to see what will happen if I appeal to inherent biological differences between foreigners and Chinese (something that’s not uncommon for Chinese people to do in other situations) instead of chalking it up to cultural differences that affect how our respective societies understand health.

When Tianjiners wear face masks (口罩) in public it’s not because of air pollution or swine flu. These are cloth face masks, not medical face masks, and people wear them because it’s cold outside and they don’t want to get “wind” in their “stomachs” (受风 — to receive/suffer wind). I put quotes around those words because in Chinese medical theory they both carry important nuances and added dimensions that don’t correspond exactly with what we normally mean when when we say wind and stomach. (I borrowed this image from a Chinese website. It’s supposedly from Tianjin.)

For more about Chinese medicine:

• Chinese Medicine: Getting a Clue (Part 1)
• Q&A with an American doctor who practices TCM

“It’s not a child,” she interrupted. “It’s a girl baby, and we can’t keep it.”

A heartbreaking, revolting first-person account of China’s unwanted baby daughters, written by woman who tried to save one: China’s lost girls

(One important aspect of baby girl adoption in China not emphasized in the above article is how international adoption fuels baby theft and trafficking. See here, here, here, and here.)

The parallels are just too obvious to ignore, and now someone finally wrote the novel: China’s Orwellian future

After all the whining about the pollution and fear-mongering about the bathrooms, I should mention that in some ways Tianjin is far superior to, say, Vancouver (host city 2010 Olympic Winter Games).

For example, in Tianjin, a massive city of 8 million people, you can get a live chicken delivered straight to your door for ￥8/斤！ Ordered online! That’s like $1.25 per pound! Behold (click the image to go to the site):

The part I circled is the end of a list of special instructions you can choose from, in this case: “…slaughtered, alive, etc.” （宰过，活的等）。

(P.S. — Camilla)