My parents have visited China twice now: first for my wedding in 2006, and the second time last year, when they came out to Beijing meet their grandson. My parents are in their 60s and quite typically American, at least in looks. My dad is about six feet tall and about the size of three Chinese people, and my mother is small and plump with short grey hair and elastic-waisted pants. They’re just about the sweetest people on earth, very friendly and very willing to try new things. While my mom is more of a homebody, my dad is an adventuresome and lets just say “enthusiastic” traveler who is always up for wandering around aimlessly taking in the sights and sounds of any new place, and trying to make friends with anyone and everyone he meets (he once frightened a middle aged Chinese shopkeeper by giving her a big bear hug after she sold him a sweater). He has tried, over the years, to learn Chinese, quite unsuccessfully. He gets my husband’s name right probably 8 times out of 10, which is a substantial improvement from the early days, when there was at least a 50/50 chance that my husband would end up being called some aberration. He likes trying to pronounce Chinese words though, and takes random stabs at them all the time, causing me to guess what he’s saying. Recently, he’s bought a set of “Teach Yourself Mandarin” CDs and he’s delighted in telling me, several times, that there is a word in Mandarin that sounds, to his ears, exactly like an English curse word. I still am not quite sure what word he’s talking about, and I’ve heard about it for months now.

An American in China, 1968. Photo: vomsorb

Traveling with older people, with my parents, has been a challenge of its own over the years. For some reason, when they come to town I feel compelled to take them on some epic journey across China, perhaps because I feel like they shouldn’t “waste” their trip in just one city. My mom would be content to sit at home and watch in grandmotherly bliss as her grandson tears our apartment to shreds, but my dad, as I said, is always up for a trip. He prepares for visits with guidebooks and comes over with stacks and stacks of paper that he has printed off of websites detailing places he wants to see – never mind that we have two computers and the internet in our house, my dad fixates on these places that he has “researched” for himself. Last year, it was a slew of antique markets, where he was sure he would find some hidden Qing dynasty treasures for under 5 dollars. This year, for their upcoming trip in December, he’s looked up some village outside of Beijing where movies are filmed. With his awful pronunciation, I still don’t know what place he’s talking about.

But I try and indulge my parents, even though their needs are not always easy to meet. My dad can’t handle squat toilets and my mom needs her diet coke. When we go out to eat, my dad, much to my husband’s shock and horror, will often order several beverages, polishing off one coffee and then asking for another, or drinking several beers with lunch. They spend their RMB like it’s monopoly money, even though they are not rich even by Chinese standards, the way that most foreigners do when they first come to a country where the exchange rate makes wasting money deceptively simple. They love shopping, and delight in purchasing gifts for everyone back home, picking out something just right for everyone. As a result, my husband and I must be constantly vigilant that they aren’t taken advantage of, especially considering their lack of Chinese. Last year we took them to Chengde by bus, and a vendor boarded selling cold bottles of water (my parents, like most Americans, never go anywhere without a bottle of water). Immediately after selling the water to a Chinese person for 2RMB a bottle, this vendor told my parents the price was 5RMB and my parents were preparing to pay when my husband sprang into action, quite nearly coming to blows with the vendor over his blatant attempt to rip off his parents in law. Ever trusting, my parents often have no idea when they’re getting the short end of the stick.

My parents next visit is planned for December, and this time my younger brother, Chris, will accompany them. My father is already looking up venues, planning, and telling Chris to pick out the sights he’ll want to see. My husband and I will be busy with our newborn at that point, so our parents will, for this trip, be mostly on their own if they want to travel or see the sights. I feel a bit nervous about releasing them into the wilds of Beijing on their own, and, dare I admit it, a bit disappointed. For all the hassle that escorting my aging parents around China brings, I have to say that I do look forward, in a way, to showing them around, to playing tour guide, translating for them, protecting them from scams, and generally looking after them a way kids are supposed to do. I’m not sure if it is a job I’d want to do every day, but being the filial daughter every now and then is ok by me.

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