The Staycation :: {Thoughts} on Being Tourists In Our Own Town

"We live here... we don't have to be tourists," one of our good friends once bemoaned to his adventurous wife, who sought every opportunity to get out and immerse herself in in Chinese culture.

We met this American couple and their spunky toddler the week we arrived in Qingdao, in February 2006. They had arrived just a few days ahead of us, and we bonded immediately.

It was easy to understand her husband's lament. The very first week, whilst the Johnson five where still sleeping off jet-lag in the apartment suite of their five-star-hotel, our plucky new American friends where braving coal dust skies, bitter temps, and the biting wind of the Yellow Sea along Qingdao's iconic symbol, Zhan Qiao Pier.

"It was like a sea of people just enveloped around us," my friend later regaled me.

To me at the time, I felt that everywhere I went in China there seemed to be a sea of people. And every time we ventured anywhere with our three blonde girls (all six and under at the time) we seemed swallowed up. I didn't know if I'd every fully share my friend's adventurous spirit. (Especially when a simple trip to the grocery seemed daunting enough!)

Over time we became more brave. We learned to tuck blonde heads under hats or hoods. We had our share of frustration and tears, unwanted photos, comments and attention. But we did eventually get out and see the sights and sounds around us... in Qingdao and beyond.

This week the girls and I headed to an older section of town. We toured Pi Chao Yuan, a food street famous for tasty morsels. We wandered among the food stalls, peeked into alley ways, chatted with vendors, and noted the architecture. We weren't swarmed. We weren't overwhelmed. Perhaps its not even fair to say we were being tourists, because it felt very much like we fit in.

When we finally settled in at a traditional courtyard restaurant (after sampling stinky tofu, spicy lamb skewers and hawthorn jelly) we actually saw one of our Chinese neighbors and exchanged friendly smiles and waves. We sat on traditional benches. Watched and listened to traditional Beijing opera (at ear piercing decibels!), and dined on spicy chicken (traditional style as it was served head, feet and all!). The girls favorite was the most traditional Chinese food of all: rice. They tucked into their 12 cent bowls, after working up hearty appetites sight seeing.

On this trip MGJ played "Tour Guide Barbie," she had been to this savory street with her class last spring and new the ins and outs of transactions. She read the Chinese characters on the wooden shingles of each shop. It was clear it was she who garnered the most respect from the shopkeepers for her dialog skills and navigation abilities.

We seem to have found a lifestyle and routine that does not often allow for trips down narrow alley

ways first carved out a century ago. Or jaunts to original buildings from the German colonial days.

It is, in part, of course, because we've already seen many of the "tourist sites" in Qingdao.

But also because we are simply busy with the business of daily life in QD:

Saturday morning soccer.

After school activities.

Playdates.

Homework.

Shopping.

But every once in a while it's good to play tourists in our own town.

Even if, as our friend suggested, we don't have to be tourists... we live here!