Sometimes in the dead of night, I get these brilliant blog ideas earth-shattering, life-altering, borderline Pulitzer-worthy. I whisper to myself, “Right. I’ll write this down first thing in the morning.” And then morning comes and I’ve completely forgotten. Poof. Gone. Vanished into the abyss of sleepy dreams and last night’s cheese toastie.

Anyway, today’s hot topic iss…

Just because it says “Made in China” doesn’t mean it’s absolute crap.

Now, from the moment I gained sentience (and no, not in a sci-fi way), I heard “loudly and repeatedly” that if something’s from China, it’s dodgy. Birthday presents, wedding gifts, even tiny keychains were scrutinised like they’d been smuggled in by spies. If it was made anywhere else? Fine. But China? Red flag. (Pun unintended. Or was it?)

Honestly, it was like being born Christian and never questioning a single thing about Jesus. You just accept it blindly because that’s how you were raised. The “China = cheap” narrative was so deeply baked into my family’s gossip rituals that even my mum would inspect gifts with suspicious side-eyes and mutter, “Ugh, it’s from China,” before regifting it to someone else.

But then, plot twist: I moved to Japan.

Living on my own, I started actually noticing things. Like, our coffee machine? Made in China. Gorgeous, sleek, works perfectly. We bought it in Japan, mind you, but the “Made in China” sticker was hiding underneath like a humble little overachiever.

And let’s not ignore the elephant in the Apple Store: the iPhone. Designed in California, sure. But manufactured where? You guessed it, yup.. China. So either my mum owes China an apology or she needs to give up Instagram.

My inner art nerd also started doing price comparisons (as one does when eating 7-yen instant noodles). Turns out, Japanese art supplies are criminally expensive. The colours I order from China? Work the same. Cost a third. Even canvases those fancy Japanese ones are basically for rich people with emotional support golden retrievers. I’ll take the Chinese ones, thanks.

So, tell me, was this anti-China product bias just my family? Or did your parents also act like anything from China was laced with disappointment and economic doom?

Oh, and one more completely unrelated thought: why is every man in fantasy novels 6’4″, brooding, immortal, and looks like he does squats with dragons? Meanwhile, the girl is always 19, hopelessly average, and somehow ends up in a toxic situationship with a 500-year-old vampire who looks like a Calvin Klein model. What in the Twilight fever dream is going on?

Anyway. It’s Friday. Be nice to your coffee machine. It’s probably from China and it’s doing its best.

Loads of luv,

Hannah x