Happy Chinese Valentines Day! Well, tomorrow, August 16, according to the lunar calendar and Chinese tradition is Chinese Valentine’s Day.

I mentioned I have two wedding anniversaries – one for the civil ceremony and one for the reception. My memory was betraying me, as it often does. There is a third wedding anniversary for me and Mrs. Stevo: Qi Xi – Chinese Valentines Day.

We were married on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, aka 7-7, aka Chinese Valentines Day (one of three, I believe), aka The Night of Sevens. It wasn’t planned. Our marriage was supposed to take place two or three days earlier, but I went to the wrong station, missed my train, and did not end up meeting the future Mrs. Stevo at the appointed time. We met, in her province, a few days later.

On the way to the station that fateful day in 2006, Mrs. Stevo mentioned it was 7-7. My knowledge of the lunar calendar was, and still is, limited. Lunar means moon, doesn’t it?  My understanding of this time system is that it wreaks havoc with holidays: Each year they are on a different day.

“It’s Chinese Valentines Day?” I asked.

“Yes, 7-7,” replied my almost-bride.

Some romantic chord resounded deep within me . We had to be married that day, The Fates were smiling blessings upon us. It was fortuitous; it was good luck, utter serendipity. I jogged through the station, Mrs. Stevo trailing in my determined wake. In the pitfalls that followed, a late train, less-than-knowledgably taxi drivers, and the summer heat that threatened to melt an unconditioned North American, I kept my eye on that prize. To be married on 7-7…

At the registry office, we said our vows, waited for the notarized “pink” wedding books, and then set off in search of a reasonable priced hotel.

“What is 7-7?” you wonder. What is Chinese Valentines Day? I’m glad you asked. Allow me to share…

Please note: There are many variations of this tale. I have combined some elements to make it comprehensible.

Once upon a time, there was a cowherder, named Nuilang (translated: Cowherder). He was a handsome orphaned lad that worked hard as a farmer. One day he spotted seven fairy sisters skinny-dipping in a lake. On the urgings of his mischievous ox, he stole their clothes and sat back to watch the show that would inevitably follow. The sisters selected the youngest and most beautiful among them, the seventh sister, Zhinu (translated: weaver girl), to retrieve their fairy garments.

Aside: The ox was an immortal from heaven, sent to earth in the form of an ox as punishment for his misdeeds in the heavenly realm.

Zhinu retrieved the clothing for her siblings and had Nuilang agree to marry her, as he has seen her unclothed.* The couple got along well, him a dutiful husband, and she a wonderful wife. They fell very much in love and had two children.

Zhinu’s mother, the Empress of Heaven, heard her daughter, the weaver of colorful clouds, had married a mortal. She was furious, as mothers sometimes are about what they perceive to be bad marriages.

She snatched Zhinu from earth and placed her back the heavens to resume her weaving. Niulang packed the kids in wicker baskets, and using the magically hide of his now dead, and formerly god-like ox, and gave chase. The Empress, using her hairpin, tore a river across the night sky (the milky way), separating the lovers forever.

Zhinu lives on the star Vega, and Nuilang on the other side of the night sky, lives on Altair, flanked by their children on the stars β and γ Aquilae.

In time, the Empress of Heaven was touched by their great love and took pity upon the couple. Once a year, the seventh night of the seventh month, she allowed all the world’s magpies to fly into the heavens. They formed a bridge over the river and allowed the lovers to reunite.

Qi Xi is also called The Festival to Plead for Skills (qǐ qiǎo jié), The Seventh Sister’s Birthday (qī jiě dàn), and The Night of Skills (qiǎo xī).

The Night of Sevens, Chinese Valentines Day, is celebrated by:

On Qi Xi, a festoon is placed in the yard and the single or newly married women in the household make an offering to Niulang and Zhinü consisting of fruit, flowers, tea, and facial powder (makeup). After finishing the offering, half of the facial powder is thrown on the roof and the other half divided among the young women. It is believed by doing this the women are bound in beauty with Zhinü.

Another tradition is for young girls to throw a sewing needle into a bowl full of water on the night of Qi Xi, Chinese Valentines Day, as a test of embroidery skills. If the needle floats on top of the water instead of sinking, it is believed to be an indication of the girl’s being a skilled embroideress.
Source: answers.com

Today, Chinese Valentines Day is one of matchmaking by parents and at speed dating parties. Astronomically, on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month the milky way appears dimmer, supporting the idea of a bridge between the two stars.

Happy Qi Xi, Mrs. Stevo, happy anniversary (again).

* Mrs. Stevo tells me in traditional China that if a boy saw a girl’s naked feet (Mrs. Stevo’s term) they had to wed. I asked if desperate girls attempted this as a way of coercing men into marriage. She would not dignify my question with an answer.

What, you were expecting baby pictures?

There will be lots of those – as soon as Baby Stevo learns to stay awake for more 10 minutes at a stretch, and can keep her beautiful blue eyes open.

My month of traveling is almost up – I look forward to being home-bound for a month or so.

What can I say about Shanghai?

• It’s hot.
• The staff at the restaurant we are frequenting are loud, rude, and slow.
• There may be some sort of ghost in my hotel room – I’m having dreams that can only be described as “freaky.”
• Did I mention it’s hot?

The above photo was taken of a beautiful Asian model at the Interphoto Shanghai show. I’ll keep shooting or another 2.5 days.

Mrs. Stevo and Baby Stevo a week later.

It happened like this:

Monday, June 7: We went to the hospital. Knowing someone that knew someone, as well as a giant basket of fruit to bribe the floor nurses, secured Mrs. Stevo a nice room and attentive care. After checking in and meeting with the doctor it was off to the labour room. A bag of IV fluid, labour-inducing medication, and five hours later, Baby Stevo had yet to arrive. Baby Stevo was stubborn. Back to the room and a night sleep for Mrs. Stevo – back home for moi.

Tuesday, June 8: Back to the labour room. Unlike the day before, the medication kindled a fire. Just after lunch a stronger medication was introduced. Mrs. Stevo’s contractions went from winces to bed-sheet clawing near-convulsions. Our temp Nanny arrived, a sentinel over Mrs. and yet-to-be born Baby Stevo. By early evening Mrs. Stevo was in agony. No epidural until she was dilated enough, said the doctor. “I’m going to die,” she said, again and again. Because things were progressing slowly she was moved back to her room. The baby would come tomorrow, they said. I returned home, to be called when Mrs. Stevo returned  to the labor room.

Wednesday June 9: 1 am – The nanny said “Guo Lai!” when I picked up the phone. I dressed, found a taxi and headed back to the hospital. Mrs. Stevo was in the labour room again, pale, sweaty, and grimly facing her fate. No epidural yet. “I’m going to die” was her mantra. A doctor appeared and I was ushered out. When I returned Mrs. Stevo was roses and rainbows – an IV line snaked from under the sheets to a stand above the bed. She was able to get some sleep, as did I, outside the mosquito net, eaten alive. Three other women arrived in the labour room, they were quickly taken into the delivery room. Baby Stevo was still stubborn. By 5 am the doctor suggested Mrs. Stevo drink Red Bull and eat chocolate. They took her away and the orderly showed me the door. Husbands don’t routinely go into the delivery room in China.

I anxiously sat until an entire extended family arrived to wait. Quiet is not ever a word I would use to describe China. I roamed the corridors, coming back every 10 minutes to see if a nurse had appeared. Tired of walking I stood by the waiting room window and listened to my iPod (with noise excluding headphones) to drown out the unquiet family.

The door to the labour room had been dead-bolted – I had tried to get back in earlier. As I took a break from my musical escape I heard the bolt scrape open. A doctor emerged. All I caught of her statement was “… nu hai.” A  girl. What I wanted. I was excited, but exhausted. No where near as exhausted as Mrs. Stevo must have been. After another hour I was allowed in to visit.

Mrs. Stevo was radiant and angelic, like a renaissance painting. A bundle of blankets was held in the crook of her arm. Babies aren’t bathed their first day in China. Even with a mucky head, Baby Stevo was beautiful. The nanny fawned over them both. I sat a spell and returned home.

I returned mid-afternoon, after sleeping and packing. Baby Stevo and Mrs. Stevo were back in their room. I held my daughter for the first time and walked about the room with her in my arms. It was a brief first meeting – I was headed for Beijing. It would be a week before we spent more time together. (In Beijing I did not get to take any Great Wall Tours – for the second year in a row. One day Great Wall, I will climb you).

Welcome Baby Stevo.

A pregnant Mrs. Stevo two days before giving birth.

Mrs. Stevo and I will go to the hospital this morning – the goal being the birth of Baby Stevo. My lovely wife is not due until June 11 but during a recent hospital visit the doctor suggested Mrs. Stevo induce labour.

Hopefully this will go quickly and end in a natural birth. Many women in China opt for a c-section to reduce the pain factor. Mrs. Stevo is determined to have the baby naturally – but Mrs. Stevo is a small women. We will have to play it by ear.

It’s isn’t the norm for husbands in China to be in the delivery room with their wives. I asked Mrs. Stevo if she wanted me present to offer support, etc – but she has barred me from accompanying her. In her own words, she will be like a “crazy woman” and doesn’t want me to witness related crazy woman behavior. Given the drama that Mrs. Stevo displays from a stubbed toe it is probably for the best that I wait outside.

While we are hoping this is quick I am going prepared. My iPod is loaded with films, including the classic 1981 Clash of the Titans and something called Mega Piranha.  The netbook and GPRS-equipped phone will be standing ready – as will a Canon DSLR to catch some images of Baby Stevo.

Wish us luck – check Facebook for updates.

The movers and a rotund Mrs. Stevo.

Asian Ramblings has been woefully neglected as of late. That’s what happens when you’re a jet-setting photo guy with a pregnant wife, a new house, and far too much RL stuff to do.

Mrs. Stevo is quite round and moving at a snails pace. The doctor said the baby is ready to arrive although the due date is June 11. If the doctor was using the lunar calendar (which I still don’t comprehend) Mrs. Stevo could be overdue. I’ve learned not to ask too many questions about Chinese culture.

We have finally moved into Chateau Stevo, freshly remodeled.  I say we meaning myself and my mother-in-law. Mrs. Stevo is still staying with friends and will move in when her maternity leave starts this Friday. I look around the place with awe I we paid for all this, or will have in 23.5 years.

Most of the rooms  are lovely. My “study” is not. Boxes of books, photography gear and assorted crap are stacked helter skelter. I may have time to organize it all, when the baby starts kindergarten.

Pictured above are the movers I have gotten to be quite good friends with. Last Sunday they brought the final load to Chateau Stevo – our large wedding photos and a television. They didn’t even charge us (because they over-charged a naive generous Stevo last time). The television no longer works we learned after trying to hook it up. I have no idea what mother-in-law is doing with her time.

And special thanks to Jessie at Wandering Educators for the lovely baby blanket she sent. Either by luck or fate – It’s Mrs. Stevo’s favorite color.

Turpan Night Market by Static6

I’m ready to call it a night, but across the street from my hotel room the party is just getting started.  Yellow light bulbs barely cut through the thick grill smoke hanging over the Turpan night market and even though the sun has already set the sky is still radiating a deep, vibrant blue.  The conversation is lively and young children are playing but from where I’m sitting it all blends into a relaxing mumble.

Closing my eyes I try to replay the trip so far.  I arrived in Turpan yesterday after a couple hours travel from the Xinjiang capital of Urumqi and I was immediately struck by the color contrast of the yellow desert and the lush green oasis.  This area is part of the northern route of the historic Silk Road and it’s not hard to imagine this city 1,000 years ago.  Donkey carts and street side markets can still be found everywhere.

Today I took my time exploring Jiaohe, a spectacular ancient city that sits on top of a small plateau a few kilometers west of Turpan.  The ruins are unique in that instead of being built up, they were dug out of the ground by its early inhabitants.  For hours I had walked through the streets that still remain and stared at crumbling mud buildings that were abandoned in the 14th century.

Turpan is known as one of the hottest places in China, though, and that heat zapped the energy right out of me.  On my way back to the city I had the opportunity to visit the old town to the west of Turpan where I caught a glimpse of the karez, a unique underground canal system, as well as the city mosque.  By the time I reached the hotel room I was beat.

Now I am faced with a choice: heed the advice of my weary body to go to sleep early or head across the street to enjoy the Turpan nightlife.  It doesn’t help that the savory smell of meat on the grill is finding its way to my window, or that my parched throat is begging for a cold drink.

I slowly open my eyes and catch a glimpse of some Uyghur men bursting into laughter after one of the little kids inadvertently runs into a donkey’s hindquarters.   It’s not a significant moment, but that’s all it takes to help me decide to leave the comfort of the nearby bed.  I won’t be here long and this Uyghur culture is something I desperately want to be a part of.

AUTHOR BIO
Josh lived and traveled all through Xinjiang, China for almost 4 years, chronically much of his journey on his website.  He used this particular Turpan trip to research and write his Turpan travel guide, which you can now download for free..

Image: Statix6 published under Creative Common License