Couch Surfing

I am currently sleeping on the couch of a bunch of strangers almost 2,200km from home. I flew up here late Monday night on a hope to head home on Friday. The purpose of my trip: to get a certificate of true copy for my passport. In the process of opening our business one office decided that our passports, in all its standard internationally accepted glory, was not official enough of a document. The lady at the desk wanted us to travel to our closest embassy and have it verified. Thankfully my friend had friends who live in the same city as the Canadian embassy, so at least I was provided a free place to crash.

When we went to the embassy yesterday I was enchanted with the simplicity of this office visit. Being Canadian at the Canadian embassy is being treated like you have come home. The staff is friendly and things are handled according to the same logical order that I myself tend to think in. The guy behind the desk was friendly and actually joked around with us a little, in stead of yelling at us like so many other offices have in the process. Our business was completed in under ten minutes (yes that does mean I spent 3 ½ hours on a plane, to do a 10min job). The saddest part was that the Canadian embassy had just sent a representative to our city five days ago, who would have been able to process our information on sight, but we had no idea of his visit. Oh well, this trip is turning in to a mini vacation since we found the import store and bought microwave popcorn and flavored coffee.

Warning: If You Don’t Like the Mention of Blood, Don’t Read

The other day I went to one of my favorite western restaurants for lunch. As I got off the bus at the stop nearby I could tell a small crowed was mingling around the front door. As I headed towards the steps a man stumbled out of the midst of them with blood dripping everywhere. He had a blood soaked towel pressed to his face, and his clothing looking like he had just emerged from battle. His appearance made me do a double take at who was standing around the restaurant entrance; it was then that I noticed that a lot of them were police officers.

“Karen” my friend yelled from the doorway “go around that way and get in here quickly!”

I followed his instruction cutting a wide path around the group and entered the café. Inside the staff were busy filling buckets with water and starting to scrub down the floor, which was splattered with blood. I could tell my friends were visibly shaken and the story of the last few minute’s events quickly poured from their lips.

Apparently there was a couple peacefully eating lunch in the restaurant, when suddenly a second man came storming in and accused them being together. He didn’t give them time to defend their presence together at the restaurant, before he pulled a knife from his pocket and stabbed the other man in the face, cutting a gash straight across the bridge of his nose. The two man than began to chase each other around the small restaurant (which normally has much more of a Grandma’s kitchen sort of peaceful feel), and the women yell “Stop, stop, it is not what you think”. The staff was able to force them outside, and the police, who were stationed right next door quickly made an appearance.

When I arrived five minutes later, the stabber was still there un-handcuffed (which is why my friend suggested I didn’t cut right through the middle of the crowd) and the bleeding man had still not been taken to the hospital. I might have missed witnessing the worst of the event, but seeing the blood splattered around one of favorite places to get a coffee and relax did shake me up a bit.

In Loving Memory

I got an email from my family yesterday informing me that my Grandmother had passed away. I wanted to take this opportunity to honour the wonderful person that was Grace Arthur.

From my grandmother I learned the importance of eating sweets in order to have a sweet personality. Whenever she went grocery shopping it seemed like candy and other goodies would just “jump” into my grandmother’s cart. She was quick to share her home made fudge, and fresh maple syrup.

From my grandmother I learned the importance of “taking five” when what you really need is an hour long nap to refresh yourself.

From my grandmother I learned that you can down play your faults by claiming “that’s the first mistake I‘ve made all year”. Somehow she could still get away with saying this in December.

From my grandmother I learned that the child-like excitement of Christmas can last well past the age of retirement.

But the most important lesson I learned from my grandmother was to always have a soft heart towards the Word of God. Every morning at their home my grandparents would read the Bible aloud over breakfast. If it was grandma’s turn to read, she often had to pass the book off midway through the passage because she was so chocked up with tears. She was filled with joy over what God had done for her. This sensitivity to her Savior was evident in her abundant service in church, her gracious interaction with family and neighbours, and her own well worn copy of the Word.

This classy, feisty and lovely woman was the wife of my late Grandfather, Lionel Arthur (Art). Her ninety years of life will be long remembered by all those who loved and looked up to her. It is hard to be so far away from my family right now, and not get to join in with them in the sharing of fond memories and celebrating a life spent running the race for His glory.

Saying Grace

I overheard a class of English students putting on a skit. They were sitting around a table and the 'father' started the meal by trying to imitate the act of giving thanks. He said:

Oh my God,
Everything is okay.
Let us eat beef.
Okay.

You’re Getting Married NOW!

Drama, Drama, Drama! One of my Uyghur friends is almost 25 and not yet married. While her family still lives out in a country village, she has been living in the big city since she was 18. Her family always figured her move to the city would allow her to meet a more wealthy and influential man to seal her future. But after seven years of singleness her parents were getting desperate.

A few weeks ago her mother came to town to announce that she had to get married NOW! She was disappointed with her daughter’s slowness in this area, and saw it as having a direct negative reflection on her as a mother. She really thought she had lost face in their village for raising a daughter that was either so inept that no man wanted her, or so wilful and headstrong that she wouldn’t accept a perfectly good match. When her mother came to town she came armed with a man to match her daughter up with. His parents were from the same village and approved the idea of their two families being joined. The guy was also living in the city, he was divorced with a child and was almost 15 years older than my friend. He needed a new mother for his soon to be teenage son.

Unbenounced to my friend’s mother was that her daughter had a boyfriend (Uyghur young people don’t tend to tell their parents about their love life until they are ready to start planning the wedding. At that point the young people often try to arrange a match maker to go to the parents and suggest the match. In the city some couples have been together for five years before their parents learn of their significant other). My friend had to quickly call up her boyfriend, who was spending three months out of town on business, and tell him to take the 24hour bus ride to come and meet her mother, or else she just might be married by the time he was done with work.

Two men, one wedding date (already set and arranged by the family) the drama between a concerned/ overbearing mother and a daughter with her own ideas ended with my friend keeping her families wedding date and plans, but switching out the groom. She and her boyfriend hadn’t been together long, they had never talked about marriage, and she isn’t sure she loves him, but at least she knows him and that seems better than marrying a complete stranger in just a few weeks.

I am so thankful, that even though I am 30 my parents are NOT forcing me into a life long union with a complete stranger.

Bike Riding

My friends and I went out of town last week, there were five of us, which is one more than fits in a taxi, so we decided to rent bikes. As some of you may know I have no idea how to ride a bike. We made quite a sight as we drove through town. It was fun to watch the locals’ response, to our parade through town. As the first bike drove by their was surprise at seeing a foreigner, the second bike made them smile, and by the time I pulled up the rear of the party they were out right laughing at what they had seen.

At least it had a long battery life and we were even able to take it off-roading in the woods. It was a great weekend.

A Nice Hot Cup of...

We had a friend stop by last night who is expecting. Because of the baby she is trying not to drink so much tea, since the black tea here is sooo full of caffeine. She loves fruit tea, but sadly we didn't have any to offer. Finally my roommate had the brilliant idea of preparing a steaming hot pot of koolaid. The bright red liquid looked so fancy pouring out of our flowery tea pot and into china tea bowls.

We ended up drinking the entire pot of koolaid before the night was over, and I had to stop myself from asking our guest "What colour is your tongue?".

Canadian Thanksgiving

94. Invited to a beautiful thanksgiving dinner with the other Canadians in town. The host family had heard through the grape vine that I was going to be out of t own for the weekend (a mix up since that is going to be this coming weekend) and didn't bother to call or tell me about the party. When someone else kindly pointed out I hadn’t been invited and didn’t seem to know anything about dinner, the hosts felt so bad and quickly called to include me in the event. Being the last one called meant that all of the dishes were already being prepared and all I had to do was stop and pick up some coke and juice. I am thankful for great fellowship, other Canadians and a beautiful feast that I didn't have to help prepare.

95. Warm blankets to snuggle under as we wait for the heat to come on in four more days.

96. Step three finally being finished

97. Friends birthdays to celebrate: we did a murder mystery dinner night and it was a blast.

98. My roommate had a French press since my coffee maker broke yesterday morning.

99. For newbies who don’t know the cultural value of nan, and therefore don’t feel bad throwing away our old moldy bread outside of our nieghbourhood.

100. Arthur Family phone call times every Saturday morning at 7am

101. When I visit a friend’s house and they serve me anything other than noodles.

102. The smell of fresh cleaning clothes hanging in my office to dry.

103. Draino, and its ability to break up the pieces of raw potato stuck in our toilet pipe (long story)

104. For people who respect personal boundaries

105. That our new house is finally a place where everybody knows our name. The other day another ex-pat came to visit us. She was sure which building or entrance we lived in, but as soon as the neighbours saw her white face they asked “ are you looking for the foreign girls?, because they live in that building on the third floor. I can show you if you want. “

106. The smell of sweet potatoes being cooked and sold on the street.

107. The great book that I am borrowing from a friend. I read this book a long time ago, but I am enjoying it afresh.

Persnickety Lee

Step 3 has been causing us a bit of a problem. After writing and translating fourteen pages of documentation and 5 face-to-face office visits, we weren’t any closer to getting approval from the woman in charge of the paperwork (who we have nicknamed Persnickety Lee). She just kept sending us back every time, and mostly for very small details(she commented on font size and other formatting issues. We are intelligent young women who can professionally format things in our own culture, but even that is different here).

By the end of five office visits, K and I both felt beaten down; we were incredibly discouraged at the length of time that this step had been taking, and the total lack of encouragement from the officials.

About an hour later, I called K. I t old her said that when I went to the office, Persnickety Lee was in a meeting, so I had to waited outside in the hallway until the meeting was done. While I was standing there, a minority woman (who we’ll call Helpful Hebiba) that I had met on two previous visits happened to come walking by. She and I struck up a conversation in her Uyghur, and several other office workers, surprised that a foreigner could speak their language, came out to listen. They all agreed that we should have gotten approval long ago,
but weren’t sure what could be done.

At that moment, the meeting ended and the office door opened. I and a gaggle of minority women all swept in together. Persnickety Lee was surprised to see so many Uyghur office workers there. Hebiba and the minority workers immediately began to talk me up (switching back to the main business language for Lee’s benefit), saying what a hard worker I am, how my business would be really beneficial to the province, and how many languages I spoke (I’m pretty sure she mentioned “Korean” and “Spanish” as part of that list, but at that point I was happy to have someone else talking).

When Lee began to nitpick through the forms again (“really, points 3 and 4 should be switched if you wanted the document to be perfect”), I started to get upset and tried to explain that this was my fifth visit, and that everything required by law was in the pile of documents, but Hebiba whispered to me(in Uyghur) to let her handle it. Hebiba then went on to explain, in her most flattering tones, that of course Lee wanted everything to be perfect, and that was completely understandable, but couldn’t she make an exception just this once, seeing as there was another holiday coming up and this cute little foreign girl had worked so hard? In the end, Persnickety Lee stamped the necessary documents, and Hebiba, myself, and the rest of the Uyghur workers trickled back into the hallway.

So we’re going to continue with the step-by-step process of opening a business. I’ll keep you posted as we work through the next 32 steps, hopefully a lot faster.

Business Scavenger Hunt

Starting a business in East Asia is a little like doing a scavenger hunt. I often wonder if the next step will read something like: “Get the signature of a man in a red hat eating a banana. Then take the document he signed to the purple building on the corner of 4th and University to a woman who goes by the nickname “Kiki” to get instructions for the following step.

Okay, it’s not quite that ridiculous. But there are a LOT of forms to download, fill out, make up from scratch, translate, etc. And then we still have to track down the right person at the right office, on the right day (who is most likely coming in late, leaving early, and taking a 2-hour lunch break, in addition to being out on national holidays and “doctor’s appointments” conveniently scheduled just before or after national holidays).

Bottom line: while opening a small business is crucial for my business partner and me in being able to get long-term visas here, it is in no way crucial to the hundreds of small offices that we have to visit in order to get everything in proper legal order. Plus, every time we ask someone to approve a form, it means a little extra work for them, which they would often just as soon avoid.

So rather than reject our applications outright, they find little things to nitpick. The font is too big. The copy is too light. The date should be at the top rather than the bottom. The bank statements don’t look official enough. The translations need an official stamp. And every rejection means another re-write, another appointment with a friend to check the newly added information, and another day of work lost.

In all, there are 35 consecutive steps that need to happen in order to get a new business opened. And they all need to be completed in approximately 6 months, or else the forms from the first few steps start to expire.

We started going to offices at the beginning of September, and have so far completed… 3 whole steps. With each step we finish we added a link to our paper chain commemorating all we have been for. Stay tuned for more details on the struggle of step 3.

House Warming

As if going to visit all of our new neighbours over the holiday wasn’t enough, we decided to throw a housewarming party for ourselves and show off how local our new home looks. We knew our neighbours were all curious to see inside because anytime our door was open even a little; people would try peering through the opening or flat out walk in. One day a lady at the front gate offered to help carry my groceries in, and then took the liberty of walking all around our apartment and commenting on everything.

To waylay their fears and satisfy their curiosity we invited all the Uyghur families living in our stair well (8 households in all). We had no idea how many people would actually venture to come. While extending the invitation I made sure to inform them that our house was halal, and that we bought all our food from Muslim stores so that they didn’t need to worry.

We pushed back all our furniture and put the servring space on the floor, just like they would in the Uyghur country side. We made sure there were plates and plates of snack food, even though they barely touch any of this stuff.

My roommate and I both showed off our hand at making traditional food. K made Pollo (rice cooked with lamb, carrots, and raisins) and I made da pan ji (literally big plate of chicken, which is chicken, potatoes, peppers and local spices). Wearing the head scarf in the kitchen really does help prevent the oil from settling in your hair (Uyghur food is very oily), just like the apron almost kept it all from splating on my nice atlas top.

When the guest finally came we spread kurpas on the floor to create a soft place to sit. In the end five women and eight children came over. They didn’t eat much of our feast, but they did all seem to have a good time. The kids stole the camera and got this great shot of two very tired hostesses. Tired or not we are now officially part of the neighbourhood.

Wedding Princess

A Uyghur wedding would make any Disney princess jealous -- sparkles, big hair, fake eyelashes, tons of make-up, huge flowers, full skirts, ballroom dancing... if only they could figure out the pumpkin carriage, they'd be all set.

In the afternoon the men and women are separated for tea times. The girls eat, gossip, fix their hair and make-up, and EAT some more.

Corsages for close friends and family - you got to love the glitter and fake feathers. The best thing about the corsages is that we can TOTALLY wear them again.

The men break into the woman's tea to steal the bride, but first they must dance and sing for her guests.

Uyghurs also have a similar saying about tying the knot... so for their first dance the bridal party tied the couple together.

In Loving Memory

I am the type of girl that loves to read biographies of those who have gone before. In some way they act as mentors in my life, I might never have met them but their lives challenge me. At times I think my life out here is difficult, but the trials of finding worms crawling on my table is nothing like the exploits I read of in their biographies.

Today some friends and I made the trek outside of town to visit the grave site of foreigners who lived here years ago. These people sacrificed their very lives to see this place grow and develop. That sort of commitment and love for this place is a huge personal challenge for me. Two of the graves in the pictures below are those of babies or toddlers who died as their parents persevered in this place. It was both a sobering and challenging day. So this post is dedicated in loving memory of those who have come before to this place. They have tilled the soil and opened doors that I can enjoy my life today.

Carpet from the Carwash

The last piece of our new home is finally in place. We picked up our freshly cleaned carpet from the carwash. It is one of the odd combination business; carpet cleaning and carwash, (I think the flower and cigar shop close to my college still counts as the weirdest mix of all). Just wanted to show off some shots of the new place. I know a lot of people might not really care, this post is really just for my Mom.

The Living Room

Kitchen Space

My Bedroom

The Office/ Clothes Drying Room

Hallway

Bathroom

My roommate even drew a floor plan to help her mom better understand how the whole place is set up (So 'my bedroom' is hers, and 'K's' bedroom is mine).

The clean Carpet that my grandparents sent me money to buy back in 2006, when I thought I was going to move to Achuk. My friend has been carpet-sitting it for me for the last four years. This is the first time I'll really get to enjoy it.

We are already having friends over and enjoying the new space.