Here she goes again

Ok, China. I've got a new visa. My flight leaves from Denver on Saturday morning and this time I am ready for you. No games this time. No tricks. I'm coming back on the condition that you and I have an open and honest relationship. I realize that I may be better at this than you, so I will try to be patient.

I've felt a little guilty the past ten days, because whenever someone asks me "How is China?" I’ve been telling them how difficult it is, that I am less than thrilled. While that's not untrue, it is not the whole truth. I like experiencing the different culture and language and I like knowing that there are struggles I can handle. Part of me was afraid that I was a bit of a princess and couldn't deal with the hard stuff, but now I know I can - I just don't want to. Then again, who does? It’s good to know what your limitations are and how much you can actually put up with. I know I get homesick easily, but can tough it out if need be.

While I've been home, many people have been asking me, "Why are you going back? If you don't like it there, why don't you just come home, start a life, and enjoy yourself?" I must be honest; it's a tempting idea. I've considered applying for a job at the Laramie Community College. I know they're looking for lecturers for the spring semester; but there is a major part of me that doesn't want to chicken out on China, that I would feel like somewhat of a failure and a coward for coming back so soon and not sticking it out. The whole point of me going to China was to have the full experience of living for a year in a third-world developing country and having more to write about. This is the problem with growing up Catholic: you stay in relationships you know aren’t working because you are taught to follow through on your commitments.

So I'm pressing on. I'll return to China on Saturday, finish my current job in Hangzhou for the next three months, and then move to Beijing. Now that I know what is in store for me in the months to come, I think I'm up for it. I may not like things the way they are now, but I am convinced that everything will change in December. I keep repeating that, but it may be because I'm trying to convince myself that it's true. It's my new mantra. "Everything will be all right in December. Everything will be all right in December. Everything will be all right in December..."

You haven't called

That isn't to say I have been waiting by the phone, hoping you'll ring me; but it would be nice to know you cared, China. If I'm going to come back in a few days, you have to show me that you'll change - buy me flowers, offer me real dark chocolate, give me a few more massages.

Do I miss China? No. But I am ready to return. I was unprepared for the culture shock and the devastation of leaving things unsettled back here; but now things are a little clearer. I've had time to stew and regroup. Now I am fit for battle. In spite of a gaggle of mixed metaphors, I'm now more aware of what this year abroad will bring me, especially after looking back at the past four months. They were a warm up.

Yes, the honeymoon is over and the real work begins. This is the part of the relationship with which many people struggle - the middle. Beginnings are new and exciting. You don't know what to expect and you are both so interested in learning. The end is either a bittersweet or just plain bitter, but an end is in sight and the relief is imminent. However, it is in the middle that we can get a little lost. Sometimes, in order to find our way back, we need a little respite, some slight reprieve or temporary amnesty to bring you together again.

China and I may have just saved our relationship. These past days have been an opportunity to gain some keen new perspective. It is often in absence that we appreciate our significant others. I see what she's done here. She's pushed me away just long enough to let me know that I have to be the one to call her. I've been playing a game of chicken without knowing it. Fine. Tomorrow I'll phone China and make plans for a reconciliation. All this for a year-long fling. Let's hope she's worth the trouble.

Not Quite 10 Things I Hate About You

Dear China,

This isn't a love letter and I don't want you back. I have been home in Wyoming for three days now and I don't miss you at all. Since I've made this visit, I've developed a list of reasons why our relationship isn't working. Please take it personally and consider changing before I return next week.

1) You are communist. I am democratic. We come from different backgrounds and that is hard to cope with in a relationship.

2) You repress your people and I want them to rise up and say, "Revolution! Revolt of the proletariat!" But you have not taught the Chinese people to be free thinkers.

3) I don't like your cooking. Your food is hard on me. I think I've said enough about this in the past.

4) Living with you is like living with a messy roommate. I never feel clean and it is always my turn to take out the garbage - never yours. And you smell. Please import deodorant and stop cooking stinky tofu.

5) You keep me from everyone I love. You make me choose between you and my friends and that isn't love. When I left you for Wyoming I realized just how many people I left behind. There are so many people I love here, not to mention friendships that had only just barely begun.

6) You like the heat. I hate living in the heat. I hate the heat. I hate it. I absolutely hate it. That is all.

7) You don't close your mouth when you chew, and that is just gross.

8) You make everything more difficult than it has to be. Everything I try to accomplish in China is either thwarted or sidetracked. It's like my Dad's jolly-rigging job with the kitchen stove. You have to turn on the living room lights to cook an egg. It makes no sense.

9) I'm usually not one to complain about size, but you are too big.

China, you are GREAT for two or three weeks; but after that, the honeymoon is over and I want to get the hell outta Dodge.

Always,
M

Reprieve

China kicked me out. She threw my clothes out on the front lawn of the apartment complex. My laundry fell from eight floors up before it hit the ground. She knows I never wanted the relationship in the first place, but now my poor students are stuck in the middle of a messy split. So, instead of calling it quits for good, it is just a brief separation.

This has been the longest Saturday of my life. On Friday, I registered residency – again – this time with the Bin Jiang District police station, then took a twenty-minute taxi ride back to Xiaoshan’s immigration office to see if I could renew my tourist visa one more time. When I arrived, they told me I had to have a Chinese bank account. I asked the duty officer why. His response was, “I don’t know. It is just policy.” Way to be a robot, dude.

Not only did I need a Chinese bank account (for a tourist???), but I also needed to apply for the renewal in my own district. So, back to Bin Jiang, only to discover that the immigration office closed at 5:00 pm and not 5:30. We arrived at 5:09 to find the office lobby dark and the doors locked up. I bet they didn’t even wait until 5:01 to close. China, man. She’s got a schedule.

So, with my visa expiration approaching within twenty-four hours, I had no choice but to leave the country. Originally, the plan was to fly to Korea, where I would stay with my boss and she would arrange for a business visa. However, you cannot make plans in China. There is no future – only a now. I was later informed that it would not be possible to get a visa in Korea, or any other country besides the U.S. It has something to do with third countries and being an American and Communist bull that I don’t understand. Blah blah blah.

The next morning, I made quick arrangements for a flight from Shanghai to Denver via Chicago. In order to get to Shanghai in time for my flight, the train was out of the question, since it wasn’t guaranteed that there would be seats available. Instead, I hired an illegal taxi to take me straight to Pudong airport.

It took three and a half hours to drive to Shanghai. It consisted of mostly silence, save for two short conversations in broken Chinese about bus exhaust and bridge construction. My flight to Chicago lasted fourteen hours, with a two-hour layover that just barely gave me time to get through customs. The customs officer was surprisingly pleasant – and cute. Finally, I boarded my flight to Denver and passed out in a fetal position the second I found my seat: the last seat of the last row on the plane. It was a two-and-a-half hour flight to Denver, and a two hour drive to Laramie, where I am now safely and comfortable going to fall asleep for the next day or two.

Monday I will send in my application for a new visa. Hopefully it will take a very long time. I’m enjoying English conversation and clean mountain air.

China’s and My Relationship Status

The bad news: China rejected me and wants to break up. The Chinese government denied my request for a business visa because I’ve been in the country too long. Idiocy. My tourist visa expires on Saturday and my boss decided to leave all this until the last minute. Very smart.

My options are these: Tomorrow I will go back to Xiaoshan to the embassy and ask to renew my tourist visa one more time. Likely I will not be able to, since I believe you can only renew once and I have already done so. You can only cheat on China once. She holds grudges and doesn’t forgive easily. The second option: This weekend I will fly to Korea. By leaving the country, I can apply again for a four-month business visa. Maybe China just wants some space. Time apart will make her realize she wants me back.

The timing is terrible. I have family visiting this weekend from Canada and I fear I won’t be able to see them. I’m trying to be optimistic, but China won’t let me. It’s hard to be optimistic in this country when at every turn you find several roadblocks. She’s a jealous and controlling bitch.

The good news: I am now the squatting toilet master. If you can use a squatting toilet on a moving train that’s swaying side to side, you can pee anywhere.

A Day in Shanghai

I live in the Bin Jiang District of Hangzhou. But don’t tell China. According to China, I am now officially a resident of Shanghai.

In order to apply for an F type visa (a business visa), you must register as having residency in the same city as the business that employs you. Technically, I am not employed by the business, but by the head of the corporation himself in order to teach his daughter and niece. But no matter; this is a minor detail.

I took the 11:00 am train to Shanghai this morning. It takes about an hour and a half to get there from Hangzhou. Lucy and I thought we’d leave the apartment at 8:00 am, in case we could get an earlier train, but it was sold out. So, we waited at the Hangzhou train station for two hours. Luckily, I had brought a book with me. Several chapters later, it was time to board.

We were fortunate enough to grab a soft seat. On my previous Shanghai-Hangzhou train experience, I was forced to stand for the duration of the ride. This time, I sat back and continued to read my book. The only distraction was a four-foot middle-aged woman sitting diagonally across from me who proceeded to suck back some fried rice. I read the same sentence several times, trying to mentally drown out the sound of the food traveling from one side of her jaw to the other.

When we arrived in Shanghai, I was amazed to see the sunshine. I had only been to Shanghai once, upon arriving in China. That day was extraordinarily smoggy, just as I had been warned. No one had ever reported sunshine from Shanghai. It was beautiful and it immediately put me in a better mood.

A taxi drove us to a hair salon in a Korean neighborhood where we met Lucy’s friend and boyfriend, who told us where we could go to register as a resident of Shanghai. One form from this building, another from that building, two signatures here, five copies of your passport there, and I was finally registered. Now to apply for the business visa.

The headquarters for the company at which I was supposedly employed were on the third floor of a building not too far from the train station. A worker took my passport and all my documents and paperwork when I entered. I frightened a few fish in the hallway aquarium and watched a 50-year-old Korean managing director chain smoke while talking about his two children. We made idle conversation for a few hours while I waited for who-knows-what.

Whenever I meet the duty officer – and who knows when that will be? – I am instructed to tell him that I am an English translator for a dental company in Shanghai. According to China, I was hired to train engineers how to write professional business documents in English.

After getting our story straight and making sure I knew what the deal was, Lucy and I left Shanghai to return to Hangzhou and our students waiting for us back in Bin Jiang at the apartment. It was a long day, but I shot a few good photographs and got out of town for a few hours.

So, my passport is in Shanghai, on its way to apply for a business visa that will hopefully last me 90 days. We will find out on Friday if it was successful.

I’ve said it before: nothing in China is simple.

Finishing Touches

My day, as I predicted, didn't end in Hangzhou without a few more memorable moments. The first of which was when I tried to use a public toilet. Not realizing it was unisex, I walked in to an unlocked stall, hitting a man in the back with the door. Mid stream, he turned around to scold me. Apparently it was my fault he didn't lock his door.

Sometimes the buses in Hangzhou can take longer than you expect, but are worth the wait. I stood in line for nearly half an hour to board a bus headed back to Xiaoshan. When the next driver decided to finally show up for his shift, we were allowed on the rig. My guess is that the passenger load can carry up to sixty people. Maybe more, considering the standing room. It takes only seconds to fill up one of these city buses. And yet, we sat there for another lengthy span as a pushy pregnant woman shoved sticks of melon in our faces, selling them for a few yuan a piece. I noticed plenty of chewed off sticks that had been dropped on the floor of the bus. She have done quite a bit of business that evening.

Construction in China is never ending. To avoid frustration, it helps to make jabs. "The national bird of China has become the crane," or my favorite, "When is China going to be finished?" Because of the constant changes, the bus ride took a little longer than usual, as we were rerouted to another avenue. When my stop finally approached, I rose and made my way to the back door of the bus. When it lurched to a stop, I was unprepared and my hand leapt to a railing. I stopped myself from falling face first onto the melon-stick-covered floor, but my arm swung in such a way that I pummeled a poor girl in the seat next to the door. My leg went into the side of her chair and I now have a dark bruise that looks like I was assaulted by a baseball bat, Nancy Kerrigan style.

I hobbled off the bus and was limping down ShiXin Bei Lu when a polite young man on a bike offered me a ride. Sometimes you can get lucky and stumble upon these dudes on their bikes who just want to pick up a few extra yuan. It was a relief, but I was too tired and too sore to remember to ask him how much before I hopped on the back of his blue bike. He took me for thirty RMB. A total rip off. I could have hailed a legal taxi cab and payed only seven. That'll teach me to accept rides from strange young Chinese boys on electric bikes. Anyone else ever have that problem?