The Japan Airlines flight to Beijing was an uneventful except for the sweet voice of the Japanese flight attendants. At the airport, after I got my luggage and went out, I looked around but didn’t find mom or dad in the waiting crowd. I bought an IC phone card to call dad’s cell phone and saw them immediately—they just entered the building seconds ago and were looking into the luggage area. They haven’t changed much in two years, except for the gray hair above dad’s ears. “Mom and dad!” I yelled at them to get their attention. I walked over and wanted to hug them, especially mom, but somehow I didn’t—I’m still regretting to this day. This would never have happened to an American, but once I landed in Beijing, I was back into my Chinese self.
Pushing my cart and dodging the guys with little flyers advertising cheap air tickets, we crossed the street and got into the parking garage. It was just like any garage in America, with multiple stories and painted but compact parking spaces. We walked to our car, a shiny silver Volkswagon Bora (Jetta in the US), which I have seen in pictures. Dad’s dream finally materialized, I thought.
Dad’s driving as mom still didn’t know the direction well. Parking was free for under 30 minutes—again, just like the US. Two years saw a lot of changes in China and I can’t predict what it’ll be like in ten years.
It’s already 10PM by the time we got home. Wife was waiting for me—she’d been back for about two months to treat her back pain (disc degeneration). She’s in pain and of course glad to see me.
I needed a rest, I thought, and quickly went to sleep.
I woke up at around 6AM, with no jet lag at all. It’s always been so smooth after every trip to China.
It’s nice to be home.
As I mentioned last time, in English or any western language, the given name always comes before the family name. This presents a huge inconvenience when sorting names—because you cannot sort by the alphabetical order of the first letter of the name. If you’ve ever written a program that sorts names, you know how tedious it is just to find the right letter to sort by. During my recent trip, I was in a conference in Shanghai. The local organizers compiled a directory of all attendants and gave up on sorting by last names—they just sorted by whatever comes first. If only the creator of the name sequence had thought about this! The same frustration applies to addresses—why the heck do they start the finest detail, the street number first? And why do they have the apartment number AFTER the street name, not before the street number? The postman’s job would be much easier if they know where a letter is going by only looking at the first word in the address.
In summary, all addresses and names should be in the Chinese order:
Country, State/Province, City, Street, Number
Family Name, Given Name
For example, if you were to write to the richest guy in the world, you would write to:
USA
Washington
Redmond
Microso*t Way 1
Microso*t
Gates Bill
Well, maybe only the second part, literally.
In today’s New York Times: (free registration required)
Every American tourist should see before they come.
I’ve always wondered about the difference in sequence between Chinese (Eastern) and American (Western) names–in a Chinese name, family name goes first, followed by given name. In an American name, it’s the reverse. My Chinese name has two characters, one for family and the other for given. When I came to the US, I went with American custom and reversed it–every Chinese in America does except Yao Ming. But because between friends, when we write email we often go with the Chinese sequence, there came the confusion for my Chinese friends. They were often not sure as to which is which as it’s hard to tell just by counting the syllables.
Maybe I should be like Yao Ming and say “to hell with it” and keep my name in its original sequence?
I’m not sure, but one thing I AM sure of is not to have an American name. I hate altering my name just for others’ convenience, as any American would agree. Maybe this is a sign that I’m *Americanized*? After all, there are already too many Johns, Brians, and Davids. Just tonight, I found it funny to hear the democratic presidential candidate call his running mate the same as himself. 
Chinese names are actually not that bad compared to, say, Indian names. Once you master the Xs and the Qs, you are in good shape. I have an X in my name. Before, I don’t even bother to explain to telemarketers or call center reps how to pronounce it right. Now one out of three can pronounce near perfection. See, Americans are smart and they learn, especially if it’s part of the job. We just have to trust them.
When I came back to the US from my one-month visit home, the first thing my Chinese friends asked me was always “how did you like the food”? Looking into their envious eyes, I knew my answer would probably upset them:” I only enjoyed the food for the first ten days of my trip.”
That was my honest answer, and often was greeted by the what-are-you-talking-about disbelief for the next ten seconds or so, until I broke it with the following:
“Yeah, my stomach was so overwhelmed that after ten days it just took whatever was offered and could not really tell the difference.”
My mind fast rewinded to those days in Chengdu and Beijing. Even days right before I came back. Yes, like every Chinese about to go back, I visited the food forums and downloaded the Beijing food map, Chengdu gourmet directory, etc. I’ve asked my Chinese friends here what they had last time they went back. I started to make plans for my little food tour. I couldn’t sleep for a couple of days before my trip, thinking of all the food that are waiting for me, those I grew up with, those I have read about for so many times online and those I haven’t heard about. What a joy to see, and eat, all the foods I’d been dreaming and reading about!!
It was true. For the first ten days, at least.
Then I started to realize how important the atmosphere can be in an dining experience. It’s one thing to eat the food you grew up with in the environment you grew up with–like the 卤煮火烧 I had in a small no-name restaurant in Xisi—don’t take me wrong, it WAS delicious. Yet when the food you want to enjoy is always served in a noisy, steamy, crammed setting, it takes away the joy so much that the taste simply does not matter any more. I tried to blame myself for such snobbishness and force myself to forget the environment and concentrate on just the food.
That did not work. Like foreplay to sex, the atmosphere is indispensable to enjoying good food. Yet unlike the foreplay, I found it out the hard way. 
Finally, I’ve jumped on the bandwagon. It’s been, oh, almost two years since I first saw a blog. I was in a lab, asking a student of mine what the hottest trends among college students were. The answer: IM and blogs. Now I’ve long abandoned IM (1998 was the last year I used ICQ) and blogs, bumbling thoughts as random as they could be, didn’t really excite me, back then.
How have things changed! A trip to China last month made me realize 1) how backward we are living in the US (look at the migrant works playing with their fancy mobile phone); 2) I need to feel young (if I can’t look so ). With the many feelings I had about the trip, and my life in general, and to catch up with the whole world, it’s time that I start a blog.
So here it is.
Like the grand opening of anything, I want to thank Nana for graciously offer this place as my little corner of the web. And friends at Paowang. Even though I don’t post that much, I enjoyed reading all your posts.
Finally, apologies to those who hate to read English. I decided to write in English solely because it’s convenient for me to type. Plus I’ve always wanted to be a little different–so I didn’t waste time to set up the first English blog at Paowang. I hope you’ll come to like it. If only for a chance to read some English.
