Growing Up Jewish in China by Dolly Beil

Author:Dolly Beil
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BPS Books

Because of the flood, we were obliged to extend our stay in Peitaiho past August – a hardship that was easy to bear.

That year, Mother and I were staying in the lovely Goldau Hotel, which was run by a middle-aged German couple.

Our room in this charming and immaculate hotel faced a wide veranda, which circled the entire façade of the hotel. The veranda itself was surrounded with fragrant cedar hedges and beautiful zinnias, ranging in colour from light purple to dark orange. Huge white earthen urns held asters in lavender and pink hues. These urns were placed on either side of the wide and slightly escalating walk with a pillared balustrade leading to the front entrance.

Our room was simple but had the charm of a classic cottage. It had flowered curtains and an oil hurricane lamp, which we used daily.

The dining room was quite spacious, and all of the tables were covered with white linen tablecloths. A bowl of fresh fruit was always served with every meal. I liked the little sugar melons the most. They were oval in shape, had a thin, ivory-coloured skin, and were no bigger than a large apple. They were juicy and sugar sweet. The meals, mostly based on German cooking, were hearty and delicious and served with lots of vegetables. Both my mother and I enjoyed our stay in that hotel. The hosts were very pleasant, but never interfering, and all of the guests were given a lot of privacy.

Mother and I usually went to the beach in the morning, after a hearty breakfast. There we met our friends, some of whom were occupying private cottages close to the beach.

I loved the sea. Perhaps it was because I was born near the ocean. I spent every morning in the water. Mother was also quite a good swimmer, but I was proud to have surpassed her.

A raft was anchored about one hundred or so meters from the shore, and I swam to it daily. It was always full of kids diving from it and having great fun. Mother always called me in to shore when she thought that I had overdone my diving. If she had not called me, I may have stayed in that water forever. The sand was hot, and we all had to run or hop quickly to seek refuge under our shelters – four posts supporting a rattan roof.

It was a ritual for vendors to appear when we first arrived from the city. They would enter the beach and offer us thick, woven straw mats, which everyone used on the beach. We also bought wooden clogs, quite nicely fashioned with a wide red or navy cotton strap across to hold them in place, and woven straw hats, some very fashionable, sporting grosgrain ribbons in pastel colours. These items were very practical; we used them every day.

Vendors carrying beautiful jewellery also came to the beach. They were always welcomed by the vacationers as they unloaded their numerous trays wrapped in dark blue cotton sheets and laid them out for display.

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