What we look like

I always thought our American-ness was so painfully obvious. Back in October a Shenzhen taxi driver proudly recognized it as soon as he saw us, two fat people with beautiful kids. Lately, around Changping I've been asked if we were Russians. I'm not sure what about us gives that impression, unless it is the fat parents/cute kids thing again.  I must point out, though, that all the expat Russian mothers I knew in Shenzhen were gorgeous, and definitely not fat, and their kids beautiful as well. I also haven't noticed any new Russian families in Changping. There do seem to be more young Russian university students this year, but I have not seen any, ahem, middle-aged Russian parents about town.

We still also get the occasional "Is your husband/ their father Chinese?" The question is not as crazy as it sounds. There aren't that many white foreign men living in Changping, and since Randy works all day (and seldom ventures into the local parks because of his allergies), not many people see him around town. The kids and I continue in valiant attempts at speaking Mandarin out of the house, so sometimes this is the reason people give for asking this. Oh, and I usually only call them by their Chinese names outside of the apartment. That could have something to do with it, too.

Recently at the playground we were asked by several children if we were Chinese. Myles and Brigid were playing with some friends, and I was talking with their parents. Even after two years living in the same town, going to the same two parks a few times a week, we constantly encounter people who have never seen us before. After several children asked Mr. Z if the kids and I were foreigners or Chinese, he thought he'd have a little fun.  He told one boy that, sure, I was Chinese, and he could ask me a question and hear me speak Chinese. The boy pointed to a tree and asked me, what is that? Shu, I replied.

"With that accent," he told Mr. Z as he ran off, surprised, "she must be from Shanxi province."

Interestingly, it isn't just our Chinese neighbors in Changping that have difficulty defining our family. A few months ago, we were shopping in a Shunyi-area mall on a Saturday afternoon. Shunyi is the suburb on the Northeast of Beijing that Alan Paul and his family lived during their time chronicled in Big in China. There are a lot of foreigners living in Shunyi, often on some sort of expat package to be able to afford the higher rents and private schools in that part of Beijing. In one store a Westerner struck up a conversation with us, placing us as from Western Pennsylvania because of my Hines Ward purse (something I really need to blog about, too, even though Betty Beguiles would not approve of this favorite accessory). He asked us in which compound we lived, perhaps wondering if we were neighbors. We volunteered that we didn't actually live in Shunyi, but actually drove over from Changping to take care of some specific shopping needs. He then said something that I have been turning over in my head frequently since then, "Yeah, you don't look like Shunyi people."

He didn't say this rudely, but just as an observation. For months, though, I've wondered how he could tell, and if I really want to know if I can't fix that easily. I'm hoping it is just the Hines Ward purse, instead of a (real or convincing fake) designer handbag. Or, perhaps, my habit of calling the kids by their Chinese names, which I am sure I slipped into even in Shunyi that afternoon.

Yeah, that must be it.