Auntie Xu


Time: 12:53PM, October 29th, 2012

 

Place: Front Garden Alley

 

Character: Auntie Xu, 47

 

The moment we enter Front Garden Alley we see Auntie Xu standing next to a sofa combing her hair. In place of missing legs, stacks of bricks prop the floral sofa up. A colorful square mat sits on top of the sofa. The sofa belongs to the 2-story public bath across the way. When we ask Auntie Xu about it she tells us the sofa used to be up on the second floor for customers to rest on.  Later the sofa fell into disuse and was moved from the second floor to the wall across from the bathhouse.

Auntie Xu gives hot towel scrubs in the public bathhouse. “I’m from the mountains in the Northeast. The mountains have hot springs. We’d call them ‘soup’. It’s not expensive. One dip in the soup is only 20RMB. People with acne take one dip and it’s gone!” When she was back home in the Northeast, Auntie Xu would give people hot towel scrub downs, and she is still practicing this profession in Beijing. “I’ve always loved showering so I this is what I do. I can wash everyday.”

Ten years ago, her 16-year-old daughter game to Bejing to find work and the then-37-year-old Auntie Xu followed her daughter to the city. “[I just have one daughter. When she came I followed and live with her。” Auntie Xu points to a bashful girl with a round face, “This is my daughter. Now she sells tickets. Before she worked on TVs.” Auntie Xu’s daughter is already married. She married a Beijinger.

Auntie Xu previously gave towel scrubs at a bathhouse near East 4th. Later on the owner closed the store and returned to his hometown. Auntie Xu’s current boss who is from her hometown and gave her a call when he need help. She went right over moving the family with her. Today she, her grown daughter, and several fellow people from their hometown run the bathhouse.

Auntie Xu works from nine in the morning until twelve at night. When there are customers she works, when there are none she cooks, washes laundry, or just sits out on the sofa chatting with friends in the sun.

“Each day I have about 15 or so customers. Each one takes 15 or 16 minutes for a 10RMB scrub.”

David asks, “Can foreigners also come?”

Auntie Xu laughs, “Of course! Chinese wash for 10RMB, foreigners for 20RMB!”

Spring Festival is when business is best so Auntie Xu can’t go back home for Chinese New Year. “I can’t go. If I go there won’t be anyone.” June is the offseason and that’s when she goes home for a month. Her family has 10 mu of land that her old brother and sister farm while also caring for their father who is over 90 years old.

Auntie Xu says she likes her hometown more, “Back home, even though it’s hot during the day and at night you need to bundle up, at least there’s no mosquitoes. Beijing’s no good. I can’t take the heat.” But when we ask her if she’s satisfied with her life she responds that clearly answers “Yes! What would I be dissatisfied about!”

When we ask her about the colorful, crocheted mat on the sofa, Auntie Xu tells us she made it. “Everyone back home can make this kind of mat. You can make one in a day. The big ones are big enough to cover a kang [a traditional, brick bed with kindling beneath for warmth]” she explains with excited gestures. The mat is usually spread out on the sofa so “you can sit on it without getting dirty.” Auntie Xu cherishes this sofa, “The sofa’s been here for a long time. It used to be leather but it wore out so I re-upholstered it with this. When it rains or snows I cover it with plastic.” When she sees our interest in the small cushion, Auntie Xu has her daughter go into the building to get one for us.

“When will you be back? I have a more beautiful mat that I just started. It’s put way at my daughter’s house. The next time you come, I’ll have her show it to you!”

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Sofa Ethnography

The stories sitting on Beijing's sofas