I think like many ABCs, I didn't really dig too deep into my family history while growing up. In America, just being Asian is enough of a cohesive identification that there is no need to stratify yourself any further... Chinese/Korean/Japanese -- Taiwanese (本省人)/mainlander (外省人) -- where exactly in the mainland, what province, county, city? Growing up in Taiwan, my parents didn't know much about their own parents' lives back in China. They were too busy studying for college examinations, too busy trying to get green cards to live in the US, too busy raising their own children. On the other hand, my grandparents never offered to regale us stories of their past either. The silence went both ways. It was too touchy, I suppose, and filled with near-deaths and unfulfilled promises.
I only vaguely knew that someone in my grandparents generation was from Jiangsu, or was it Jiangxi provinces (turns out both)? I had no clue which province sat where in the geographical scheme of things, and my Chinese wasn't good enough to discern names and such. I was a Junior at Columbia, sitting in Lerner Hall's Ferris Booth eating dinner with a Shanghainese friend of mine, when my grandparents called. We chatted for a bit, and out of politeness I told them that I was eating with a friend who grew up in China. They asked where in China, but I was hopelessly ignorant about these things so I simply passed my phone over to him. He and my grandfather had some niceties, and then he passed it back to me. After I hung up, my friend said, "So have you ever been to Wuxi?" "What is Wuxi?" I asked. "What, you didn't know that you were from Wuxi?!"
No, I had no idea that my 爺爺 (ye2ye, paternal grandfather) grew up in Wuxi (無錫). At most I extended my family tree to Taiwan, where I spent a few sweltering summers discovering "real Chinese culture" as a teen. A shameful realization, especially being schooled by someone who had just talked to my grandfather for a mere 5 minutes.
I'll never forget that moment, when I stumbled upon that fact. I asked my father whether he had ever visited Wuxi (No.) whether we had any relatives there anymore (Again, no.), whether we still had any property there (No way.). All tangible connections that our family had with our ancestral home had been cut, but I discovered that here in China your claim to a hometown is almost like belonging to the same sports team -- I cannot emphasize how huge of a social lubricant this has been. I've been able to convert many an ambivalent person into becoming friendly just by waving my "Wuxi" card. My current landlord, my travel agent, etc... Wuxi is a very important city in Jiangsu Province, and you'll find many Wuxi people even in Nanjing. It's funny though, since I can't speak the Wuxi dialect, I have a Taiwanese-American accent while speaking Chinese, I certainly don't look like I grew up here in the mainland... yet when I throw my Wuxi connection out there I can automatically see people physically lower their guards, relax their shoulders, unfurrow their eyebrows, throw out their arms, like now feel like they can trust me. Since it's proven to be such an advantage, I never mention Taiwan or America if I can help it, because I've been able to superficially carve out a shallow sense of belonging in this potentially hostile society.
Nanjing is a mere 45 minutes away from Wuxi on China's new high-speed rail (top speed that I've seen at 330km/hr), so my good friend Rob, who you may recognize from the Xinjiang trip, planned a one-day trip to my ancestral home, my laojia (老家). On May 2nd 2011, with a bit of internal fanfare, I finally stepped on Wuxi soil.
Is Wuxi a good place (好地方)? Let's find out.
I heard that Wuxi had turned into a smoggy industrial city, not much different than the other major cities in Jiangsu such as Suzhou and Nanjing. Wuxi's main attraction is Taihu Lake (tai4hu2, 太湖), which literally means "grand lake". It is one big mofo of a lake, spanning at least 4 Singapores! My grandfather always told me to visit Taihu when I was in Nanjing, so we decided that it would be our main attraction that day.
After getting off the train, thanks to Rob's sparkling white complexion we were approached by many old ladies working for tour agencies, but it actually ended up being a good deal at 105RMB though for all the tickets and a direct busride to Taihu (no ripping off).
Wuxi steamed soup buns (無錫小籠包) taste way different that the ones I'm used to at Dintaifung (鼎泰豐), they're SO SWEET!!! Wuxi cuisine is known for overdosing on sugar, which unfortunately doesn't really grow on me.
Rob, forgive me for using this ridiculously unflattering photo, hahaha.
Popcorn, you say? I actually prefer this variation, haha.
Then we got on ferry to Yuantouzhu (黿頭渚), a small island in Taihu that reminded me of Neverland with all the references to fairies and immortals that Chinese like to use. The ferry ride was short and enjoyable, albeit I did have some reservations with a possible passenger overload. It was the Labor Day national holiday weekend (五一節), a perfect storm.
Unfortunately that day didn't have the best weather to enjoy Taihu. Yuck.
Debarking the ferry... check out that line!!!!!!!!! Ugh, tis China.
Everyone wants a photo with Rob. :)
Being with Rob all day finally helped me realize what it was like to be white in China. You get a ton of attention, stares, points... I prefer to remain relatively anonymous.
We had so much fun at Yuantouzhu just observing families on vacation, learning about Chinese culture, walking on the hiking trails. It was simple good ol' fun. :) Thank you Rob!
Here, couples latch on a lock to the chain with the hope that their relationship lasts forever.
Wipe that look off your face, buddy!
Each of these red ribbons has someone's wish written on it.
Can you imagine collectively the amount of hope people have poured into this chamber? There must have been a million ribbons at least -- it's amazing!
This proves it! Men are ugly and scary!
Back at Wuxi proper from a long-day frolicking at Taihu Lake. Wuxi has a series of canal systems coursing through the city, relics from the past will make for beautiful parks (once cleaned up).
So what's my conclusion after finally making the journey back to my laojia? I didn't go in expecting that it'd feel like much of a homecoming, and I was right. I can really only form a fragile, imagined thread of familiarity mostly thorough fantasy and my love for my grandparents. I grew up in a place literally half-way around the world from Wuxi, with burgers and extracurricular activities and friends from all different cultures... there is no sense of home here in Wuxi. If anything, I feel more at home in Taipei than anywhere else in China, and that is because I have family, fond memories, and my traces of formative years there. I did find myself staring into people's faces, wondering if I could find familiar features here and there, but their both faces and Wuxi's landscape remained distantly aloof.
Actually, I could go to Wuxi anytime in my adult life, it really wouldn't matter when. Going to Wuxi this time was really for grandfather. He's too old to travel and I always sensed that he encouraged me to go so he could live vicariously through me... I guess in this sense my journey is his homecoming. I'm going to call him today.
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