5 August 2017

It’s been a while since I summoned up the energy to blog away, and for that I can only apologise.  It’s not that I have been particularly busy, but, well, you know, two almost-two year olds with little sense of danger but a massive taste for adventure are something of a handful. Particularly when they insist on going in opposite directions.  All the time.

Meandering through the Chinese countryside

One thing we have done since I last blogged is decamped 1,400 miles south. Having spent three weeks in Beijing we’re now down in Ying’s old hood, Liuzhou, not too far from the Vietnamese border.  It’s where we spent five months last year. We could have flown down to Guangxi (the province where Liuzhou is), but we opted in stead to take the train.  That meant the small matter of a 21 hour train journey.

We could, to be open and candid about this, have opted for one of the new high speed trains that zip across China, and that would have cut 12 hours off the journey.  It would, however, have meant seats (as opposed to sleeping berths) and more pressingly it would have meant keeping Stan and Vince entertained in no space at all for what in my book still amounted to a very long time.  We opted for the option with more room.

The guys did, of course, really enjoy the train journey.  They ran up and down the carriage, they climbed up and down the beds (we had four in our berth) and they generally sought out mischief wherever they could find it. What’s not to like?  We even got a decent amount of kip, largely as the movements of the train are great at keeping whippersnappers asleep.  So, if you find yourself in China, I reckon it’s definitely the way to go.

Dancing the night away

On one of my last nights in Beijing I went out for one of my regular saunters, but rather than go to Renmin University’s running track (of which regular blog readers have heard more than enough), I opted to go to the one at Beijing’s Science and Technology University.  Beijing Tech is arguably nearer to the hotel we’re in than Renmin is, and within 5 minutes I found myself plodding methodically around.

At Renmin the track is a hive of people, but it is generally quite quiet.  Sure, you hear people murmuring to each other, but it’s still pretty serene. Beijing Tech was a bit different.  At both ends of the track you had what I basically think were over 60s dating sessions.  Officially, it’s simply open dancing to what I think is best described as a cross between country music and 1980s cheese. You have some people adopting a line dancing approach whereas you have others who definitely think they are more akin to Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire.  You also have some people who don’t appear to have a clue what they are doing. China really can be the land that doesn’t give a monkeys at times.  All power to these folks, too, I say.

A quick look at the participants and you’ll see that more or less everyone is at the ‘mature’ end of the spectrum. Now, don’t get me wrong. I think it is fantastic. China has ‘old people’s universities’ (as I think I’ve mentioned before) and there are a surprisingly large number of ways that OAPs get out, about and in to the action. Indeed, what can be better for the constitution than a bit of whirling and twirling as the temperature drops.  It’s great.

I also hear from my reliable sources that it’s a rapid route to romance for those who perhaps find themselves alone.  Given that women seem to outnumber men at these doos, it looks to me like the perfect dating tool for blokes who fancy themselves as a bit of a Frank Sinatra. And fair play to them all, I say, you’re never too young to find Mr or Mrs Right.

Rogue Grandmothers

Finally, here in Liuzhou we have once again taken to using the local children’s play centre in a nearby shopping centre.  The play centre is huge and the guys can run around until their hearts are content.

One thing you notice at places like these is who does the bringing up of Chinese kids.  I am sure the well off buy in nannies, but Jo Schmo goes for a much more traditional option; the grandparents are called in to help out.  Well, I say “called in”, but often I think it’s more a case of “bustled their way in” as that’s “the way things work”.

Certainly China’s culture is very different to that of the UK in that grandparents expect to be hands on more or less all the time.  Nowhere is that more evident than during the week at children’s play centres. Saturdays and Sundays are a little different (as parents aren’t working), but when Ying and I trundle up on a weekday morning we definitely bring the average of those looking after the kids down considerably.

Two things about this. I do wonder what impact it has on the children. For example, kids run around and the grandparents do their best – often in vain – to catch them. However, a four year hurtling around after another four year old will beat a 70 year old every day of the week. Does this mean kids get more of a free rein than they do in the UK? Maybe, I don’t know.

Grandparents in China also have different ideas to grandparents in the UK.  Ying’s mum is massively anti- the boys eating/drinking things that are cold, for example, no matter how warm it is outside (and it is often seriously warm).  I don’t get it, and I will tell the kids (in due course) that I don’t get it. But what do Chinese kids make of it?  Dunno, I really don’t … but there is something very different about they dynamics at play here, and that even though I can’t put my finger on what that differentness is.

Secondly, the grandparents themselves can be a bit left-field at times.  They are never shy in telling you how to parent – something I find is a real no-no in the UK.  I certainly don’t ever recall anyone in the UK I don’t know coming over and lecturing me about how to bring up Stan and Vince. Quite different here.

We also saw one particularly weird woman get kicked out of the play centre last week. I have no real idea what went on, but I do know that she ranted and raved at another parent in a way that a Jeremy Kyle show participant would have been proud of. My Chinese is not good enough to understand what one of the ladies working at the play centre said to her in the end, but I suspect “out you go, sorry, we’re not having any of that nonsense here” was more or less the gist of it.

So, there we are. It’s not been particularly rock’n’roll, but all is nonetheless groovy. Take it easy, and play a straight bat and those who are there, do give my regards to Blighty.

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