Thursday, April, 1933

Dear Helen, Jean and Jay,-

Before I left I said that I would write or try to write a description of Canton as I see it. I find that it is more difficult than I supposed for the simple reason that there is very little to use as a basis for comparison. As Stu told you Hong Kong is a spot of England transplanted to China, but Canton is China.

The first thing that struck me was that this is actually the land of upside down. The Chinese system of doing things is so different from ours, that at first it is impossible to find any system at all. Gradually you discover that the streets really lead some place and that the policemen on the corners have a purpose in waving their sticks.

Let me take the city apart. First imagine a filthy yellow river. The land on either side of the river picture as fertile, gently rolling, covered with a profuse and lovely foliage of a rich green color. The leaves of the plants are soft, long, and graceful. Flowers are not numerous, but what there are, are bright. Honeysuckle grows everywhere.

Now, onto this land put a city about the size of San Antonio. It is really much larger than that, but to me the actual modern building space is about the same. The streets in the city proper and in the suburb where we live are not straight. You cannot see for more than four blocks ahead of you. There are only a main arteries, but they are paved the same as Euclid Ave. In your imagination, fill these curving streets with buildings very close together. They are tall, although they seldom are over three stories high. They are built for coolness. The downstairs of these buildings are left completely open, that is they look like California markets without the folding doors. The width of these open stalls is seldom over twenty feet. There a few new stores that have show windows. The sidewalks are shaded by protruding roofs similar to those in San Antonio.

Off the main arteries run countless apparently aimless little streets which are also lined with stores, and which are about five or six feet wide. The buildings are made of brick and some are made of something that looks like stucco and adobe mixed. The roofs are both flat and slanting, and they are often covered with beautiful Chinese tile which is shiny green.

If in your mind you have left any space at all between the buildings or any place at all, for that matter, fill it at once with fifty million sheds made of matting of all size and description. Each little crevice houses a family and serves as a store of some kind. Those who have not found a cranny, carry their stores with them in two big baskets on a pole, and sleep on the streets at night. The whole town looks as if some one had tied a string around it and drawn it tight.

As you drive along the streets, and look into the shops, you cannot find any rhyme or reason in the displays. Things are just crammed into every available space and hung on the walls layers thick. How they can find anything is still a mystery to me. You can imagine a foreigners predicament. One simply stands and looks things over until the desired article is found. Today Stu and I tried to buy a flower bowl. They brought out everything from a grapefruit dish to a lamp, and after we personally inspected the entire stock we discovered they had no such thing. The things we have come to take for granted in America, have to be found by a seasoned conniesure in this place. Paper for instance, and hairpins.

And then the smells- no description would be complete without that. I swear- the stench of fifty thousand years out of some of these stores, and the dust of many more thousand years is on the buildings of Canton. But, believe it or not, the place is attractive, romantic, and lovely.

And the life- People teem through the streets. You cannot realize the significance of that until you see it. Christmas shopping in Los Angeles is an every day occurrence here. Thousands upon thousands in every walk of life, each with his peculiar type of dress- the white collar class in linens, the Chinese Bourgeois in long coat with high collar a la movie, the coolie with as little as possible which is plenty little. Seldom a white face in the whole crowd.

The Bund- which is the main street, and on which are located the modern stores, faces the river. As you know, hundreds of sandpans line the banks, and life is as thick and cheap on the river as it is in the city, The children run around on the boats with a sort of gourd tied to them, so that when they fall in the water the gourd marks the spot.

Just across the river is Shameen the foreigners island. It lies cool and peaceful, and rise with a sort of dignity from the river rabble at its feet. However the dignity is only outward. The people on the island are so close together, that they are at each others throats all the time.

Stu and I live in what is now known as the choice spot. Tungshan is on the outskirts of Canton, and is really lovely. In a letter to my folks, I told a little bit about it. Here as in all China there are some very 'amazing scents', but the honeysuckle predominates. In the evenings, we often take a walk along its quiet little byways, and breathe deeply of the cool air and scented foliage, and sometimes hold our breath when we reach the sign of the crescent.

Every evening just as the dusk is falling, a peddler comes by selling sweets. He plays a weird tune on his little pipe- a tune that sounds as though it might charm the rats from Hamlin Town. As he passes I can only see his huge straw coolie hat and the brass tip of his horn amid the other people, but his music is as strange and thrilling as all the secrets of China.

I thought that I might be able to give a word picture of Canton and Tungshan, but i find it very difficult. As I read this over, I wonder what kind of picture you have in mind, and how close it is to the real thing. It is like nothing you have ever seen before. It is a different world. When you see it, you will know what I mean.

As we leave Canton and drive out to our home along the curving roads, you hold your breath and wonder if you will make it without killing someone. The Chinese cannot get used to automobiles. They wander out in front of you by the dozens- coolies with their stores on a pole, women taking the place of oxen drawing lumberous carts, children as thick as rats, rickshaws by the hundreds. The road to the suburb is lined with schools, military academies and organizations of all kinds, and from them is a continual parade of young and old in costumes, uniforms, and hats of all kinds. You never drive up or down the streets without seeing a parade, a wedding or a funeral of some variety. There are boy scouts, girl scouts and soldiers. Perhaps it is because we cannot read the signs that it is hard to distinguish schools from military headquarters. The buildings in the suburbs have lawns and flowers around them, and are built in a sort of compound mode, that is clustered together. The homes in our section are probably the most modern around here. They are of brick for the most part, although a general has built a new home here of stucco and is completely modernistic in tone- and I mean the real futuristic style. It is an anachronism.

The large brick buildings on Tungshan, which by the way is about three miles from the center of Canton- about as far as our house in Pasadena is from Colorado street- seem incongruous as they give the appearance of being city buildings in the country. For instance across from us is a tall three story apartment house and next to it is a two acre farm. About four blocks- about the same as ours- further along the narrow (25ft) curving dirt road population ends abruptly, and the country stretches out into a long rolling plain through which runs the river. In the distance we can see several long tall ancient pagodas built to the Chinese Gods.

The homes here for the most part are surrounded by high walls which are closed by strong iron gates. Shrubbery grows thickly around the walls, although ours has kind of died down from neglect.

I can't wait until Helen sees our kitchen. She'll faint. How Ah Li ever prepares a meal out there is more than we can figure out. The kitchen is about ten by ten. It is as black as coal from the charcoal smoke. The flies are numerous and friendly. There is an old Chinese tile stove which in its youth might have been pretty good looking, but which has faded in beauty and usefulness with the ages, so the stove they use is about a foot in diameter, about a foot tall, and is shaped like an ice cream freezer. It is made of some type of metal, and has a little door at its base in which goes the charcoal and wood they burn. Talk about your one burner stove. The funny part is that the Missie of the house is supposed to be able to do everything the house boy can and more or she loses his respect. You ought to see me pretending that I could do everything on that stove, when the darn thing really has me stopped. He gets a whole dinner on that contraption- vegetable soup, delicious fish, potato balls, vegetable dessert [with] coffee and tea, and it is all hot at the same time. The boy can cook.

One lesson Stu and I must learn out here, and which is very hard is patience. Stu with his students and I with the servants have to tell them every single thing to do or they never do it. If i want the bathroom clean, I have to point out every single feature for they clean only the things I mention. Every day you do the same thing. Yesterday I forgot to tell them to clean the stairs, so the stairs stayed dirty. They have a complex about cleaning corners. I think they are afraid of them.

When it rains here it pours. The other evening we went to dinner at the American Consuls. Harvey Beggs took us in his car. About an hour before we started the rain came down. I didn't think about it much, but when Harvey came, can you imagine our surprise when we went down stairs and beheld him in his evening clothes- white monkey jacket, tux trouser etc., - with his pants rolled up to his knees and his shoes and stockings in hand. There he stood, water and mud up to his calves. He had to wade into the house. When Stu and Crip came down they rolled up their trousers, took off their shoes and stockings and carried Gwen and me out to the car. After the party, the rain started again and Harvey and Crip carried Gwen, and Ed Deeds and Stu carried me all the way from the Consuls house on Shameen to the car. It was fun- for Gwen and me. We carried the umbrellas. People in evening clothes look so silly when they are wet. The Chinese gathered around as usual as though we were specimens brought up from the briny deep. As a matter of fact, we felt just that way. Well I never thought I would lose my dignity to the point of having to be carried from the Consul's party. Harvey Beggs is the only other person Stu's and Crip's age here. He is a heck of a good looking kid who works for the Standard Oil. He speaks Chinese like a native. He is going back to the states for his vacation, and he said he wanted to stop in and see you folks. I showed him Jean's picture and told him about her and he said for me to tell her that he is going to call on her. I showed him Jay's and Helen's pictures and he said he would like very much to know you all, and that if you don't mind he will stop by and see you. He has been very nice to us since we came here, and has taught mr enough Chinese to tell the servants what I want. He has promised to take us to a store that sells paper next week. That may sound funny to you, but I am not kidding when I say that you can find absolutely nothing in this town without a guide, and everyone is so busy that they haven't much time to take you around. In this country you spend hours accomplishing nothing.

While I have been typing this, Stu has been snoozing on the bed all wound up in the sheets and mosquito netting. Jay and Helen have been watching me while I straddle the wicker chaise lounge and hammer the keys. They look cool and friendly. I am hot and hungry. Stu just woke up. He is hot and hungry too. Across the hall, Crip has just awakened, and Gwen has been cytting out a dress. They are also hot and hungry. It is twelve five here and in ten minutes tiffin will be served. A cool breeze just sprang up, so in about thirty minutes we will all be neither hot nor hungry.

Before I close, I want to tell you about the Chinese farms around here. They are one thing that do appear orderly. They are rich and beautiful to look at, and the vegetables they grow are gorgeous. They remind me of things in a museum. Look but do not touch. Every once in a while Stu and I get out the picture of your house and look at our orange tree. Don't fail to bring it when you come.

As I look out our window now, the sky is lovely blue and all sprinkled with thunder heads. The trees and shrubs are swaying in the breeze. The peddlers in the street below are singing their songs, and the Amahs are hurrying by in their black pajamas, carrying umbrellas to shade them from the sun. The sun here does not seem to be as strong as it is in California, but it is deadly.

Stu is going to get some shorts and a toupee. I will take his picture when he does. Just now he is standing in front of our little black dresser, with a cigarette in one hand, and his letter in the other. He looks mighty sweet to me.

Lots of Love,

Jeannette.

P.S. I just wanted to say that we are enclosing some pictures that stu got for you. The one that points to our home is not correct, Stu could not get it at the last moment. We cannot find our present home on it.

I am going to copy this little epistle and send it to my folks[-] to[o] much concentration is not good for one so tender.

Last night was Gwen's birthday. I wish you could have seen the cake. Ah Li made it and it looked like Chinese New Year. He had to walk to town in the pouring rain to borrow an oven and make the cake, and then he walked all over to find candles. The only ones he could find were five inches tall, half an inch in diameter, and bright red, so we put one right in the middle of the cake which was decorated in yellow, red, green, and white frosting. We thought it was pretty nice of him to be so enthusiastic. We all complimented him on the dinner which was really wonderful- squab, pineapple and cheese salad, asparagus, french fried potatoes etc., and he was as pleased as punch,- so were we.

P.S. Cannot send pictures at this time, will send them in Mala's and Jean's birthday box.