Just Roll with It

At 8:30am, my cell phone rang. Wake up time wasn’t for another 30 minutes, so I was a bit slow to answer and missed the call. The number was unrecognizable. Irritated, I dismissed it as a wrong number. Rather than try to force myself back to sleep, I headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. Before I could even heat the omelet pan, I received a text from the same number as the missed call.

It read, “Hi. This is Gu. Josh’s boss. Please call me if you free. Thank you.”

The day before, through a random series of events that involved a helpful taxi driver and a visit with a University Dean, I was united with Josh, a fellow American who taught at a language center in town. We had a quick, 10-minute chat and he gave me the contact details for his boss, Mr. Gu. Before I went to bed that evening, I sent a short email to Mr. Gu inquiring about teaching opportunities at the language center.

As I was groggily recalling the who’s and what’s surrounding this Mr. Gu that was texting me, my phone rang. It was Mr. Gu calling. Again. His eagerness to contact me seemed like a positive sign for my prospect for employment.

I answered with my standard Chinese and English greeting, “Weí. Nǐ Hǎo. Hello. This is Matthew”.

“Hello. This is Gu. Josh’s boss at the English center.” He spoke with a heavy accent, but slow enough that I could understand him.

“Yes, I talked to Josh last night. Hello Gu. How are you?” I was expecting the formalities to continue with the usual, “Fine. And you?”

I was not prepared for what came next.

“Ok. Where are you now?” he demanded.

“I’m in my apartment”.

“Where is your apartment?”

“I’m at the Wànghǎilóu Apartment.”

“Ok. I be there in 5 minutes.”

Now, the typical Western reaction would have been to inquire a bit further and to try to get a rational grasp on what the heck was going on. Why are you coming here? Why are you coming here so soon? How are you coming here? What do you look like?

However, this is China where “Just roll with it” is the mantra that one must adopt to survive all the WTF? moments that one encounters as a daily part of life in the Middle Kingdom. Such questioning would have led to more confusion and frustration, not clarification. I did mention in my email that I wanted to meet with him soon, so whatever was going on had to be a good sign. Right?

I shrugged my shoulders and simply replied, “Ok.”

I hurriedly brushed my teeth, changed clothes, made myself presentable, and waited for him in the lobby. A few minutes later a middle-aged Chinese man entered, walked directly to me and asked if I was Matthew. I confirmed. We shook hands.

“Ok. Let’s go,” he said, pointing outside.

I did as I was told and followed him outside. We made our way to his car and drove off to some destination unknown to me. During the drive, he asked me a few questions about my teaching experience and the length of time for my stay in Penglai. He seemed disappointed when I informed him that I would be leaving in 4 months.

Five minutes later, we turned into the entrance of a high school and were waved through a manned gate. Mr. Gu parked the car and got out. He didn’t provide any instruction to me so I just sat in the car wondering what the heck was going on. He returned shortly with an older Chinese woman. She was introduced to me as Ms. Feng, one of the English teachers at the center.

Ms. Feng spoke English fairly well and began asking me the same types of questions that Mr. Gu had about my teaching experience and length of stay in Penglai. In the meantime, he drove us to a nearby restaurant.

He parked the car and said, “Ok. Let’s go”. Dutifully, I followed the two into the restaurant. We sat down at a table and Mr. Gu was given a menu. He opened the menu to the coffee page and offered me one of the options.

“I’m sorry I don’t drink coffee,” I said. Inwardly, I immediately regretted declining his offer. I had probably disrespected him with some kind of social offense.

Both Mr. Gu and Ms. Feng looked surprised. “Oh, I thought all Americans drank coffee,” Mr. Gu said.

To save face, I said, “I prefer tea.” Though, I’m not much of a tea drinker either.

They both relaxed and let out an audible “oh”. This seemed to appease them.

We looked at the tea page of the menu. Mr. Gu offered green tea or black tea. I pointed at the chrysanthemum tea. Mr. Gu ordered the tea while Ms. Feng explained,  “Usually only the women drink this tea. But it’s good for the skin.”

Could I embarrass myself any more?

As we continued talking, it dawned on me that I was actually being given a job interview. Ms. Feng was asking about my teaching experience in Thailand and my experience with children. Meanwhile, Mr. Gu was emphasizing that the school wanted to teach American English rather than British English.

“America is great,” he beamed. “China is great.” He linked his hands together and proclaimed, “Together. China and America is very good.”

I couldn’t disagree with him.

The tea arrived in a beautiful glass teapot containing hot water and chrysanthemum flowers inside. Mr. Gu poured the tea into our delicate, decorated tea cups. As I tried to sip my lady tea in the manliest manner possible, we discussed the issue of my short time in Penglai. Getting a work visa would be impossible. As a compromise I offered to teach English, if they agreed to provide me with a Mandarin course.

They both became very excited at this idea.

“We will do an exchange,” Ms. Feng confirmed. “You will have English class and you will have Chinese class. Today you start Chinese class at 3 o’clock.”

Wow! That was soon. I didn’t have anything else to do, so I told her that I would be there.

“Good. We go to school now.”

The front of the building of the School

We got back in the car and drove to the language school in the center of town. The school was on the second floor of a typical concrete building. It contained a lobby and about 4 or 5 small classrooms, each able to accommodate up to a dozen children. I was led into one of the classrooms where a teacher’s assistant, a young Chinese woman by the name of Lucy, was preparing a lesson on the computer. Ms. Feng showed me the textbooks they were using for the children. She busied herself helping Lucy prepare the lesson and I stayed in the room thumbing through textbooks and looking around.

Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Gu entered the room with his iPad. He was using Skype and talking to somebody in English. He sat at the table and excitedly motioned for Ms. Feng and me to join him.

Ms. Feng asked the person on the other end, “My voice is good for you to hear?”

An American woman’s voice responded, “Yes, it’s a bit choppy. I can hear you. But it’s coming in and out.”

Unable to translate the woman’s sentence because of the slang, Ms. Feng and Mr. Gu had puzzled looks on their faces. I clarified, “The woman has trouble to hear you.” They understood my translation and Mr. Gu turned off the video. I looked at the screen and noticed the woman’s name was Jamie.

After it was established that Jamie could hear better, Ms. Feng fired off a question, “Do you like teaching children?”

So much for formal introductions.

As the questioning continued, I had a sense of déjà vu. These were the same questions that I was asked over tea less than an hour before. I was sitting in on an international phone call for Jamie’s job interview to teach English at the language school in China! Too bizarre for my comfort, I really wanted to excuse myself. But I didn’t want to disappoint Ms. Feng and Mr. Gu. So I just “rolled with it” and stayed put.

It turned out that Jamie found out about the school through Josh as well. They were certified through the same TESOL course in the States. Sometimes Jamie used slang or professional words that Ms. Feng didn’t understand. On several occasions, I translated Jamie’s responses into simpler phrases to help keep things moving. Finally, after a rather awkward discussion on salary and “requirements”, it seemed as if the interview was over. But Mr. Gu looked at me, turned the iPad in my direction, and enthusiastically motioned for me to talk to Jamie.

I really didn’t know what to tell the poor girl. I could tell from her responses to Ms. Feng’s questions that the interview was not even remotely close to what she had probably expected and prepared for. I quickly introduced myself to her (neither Mr. Gu nor Ms. Feng had ever introduced me!) and told her that today was my first day. She seemed surprised to hear my voice but relieved to be talking to a native English speaker. I asked about her travel experience outside of America and if she was aware of the cultural differences in China. Basically, I was asking her if she knew what she was getting herself into. She told me that she had only been to Canada and South Africa, but that Josh had prepped her a little about China. She was confident about her ability to adapt and be flexible. I didn’t want to discourage her, so I held my tongue and gave her my email in case she had any questions.  And just like that the interview ended as abrupt and unexpectedly as it had started.

After the interview, we got back into Mr. Gu’s car and dropped off Ms. Feng at the primary school where we had picked her up. She reminded me of my Chinese lesson at 3pm and said goodbye. Mr. Gu dropped me off at my apartment where I was left wondering, What the heck just happened?

It occurred to me that throughout the morning’s events I was never informed about anything that was about to happen. From Mr. Gu picking me up, to picking up Ms. Feng, to my job interview, and Jamie’s job interview, it never occurred to them to give me advanced notice, heck any notice, that these things were going to happen. I just rolled with it all not really knowing if anything was concretely accomplished. But I’m pretty sure I have a new job! I think…

Arriving in China - Home Stanky Home

The drive from Yantai airport to the town of Penglai took an hour and it was mostly on highways with little traffic. We couldn’t see too much of the landscape due to the fog/haze. We could make out a mountain in the distance and a few wind farms. It was mainly rural with lots of farmland, mostly apple orchards.

Even though there was minor traffic, we were quickly re-acquainted with the no rules driving of Asian drivers. They rarely stayed in their lane (I mean, why stay in one lane when I can just take up two?). They had no problems passing one another via the shoulder or across the centerline (you know the solid one that indicates NO passing allowed in the opposite lane). The speed limit was completely ignored. And if you thought the purpose of a horn was to warn your fellow drivers of imminent danger, you thought wrong. No, as a rule of thumb the horn is used when the driver is inconvenienced or the driver is in the process of inconveniencing others. If someone slows down in front of you for any reason, you honk your horn. If someone indicates to turn and they happen to be in front of you, you honk your horn as you pass them. If you are in the opposite lane of traffic trying to pass a slower vehicle and another car is coming head-on towards you, you honk your horn to tell them to get the heck out of your way. Although we had experienced such antics before (from our 3 years in Thailand and various travels across the continent), living in Australia with its strict driving rules had spoiled us. I’ll be sure to dedicate an entire blog post on the crazy driving habits in China.

Our apartment building viewed from the main street

Alive and in one piece, we finally arrived in the town of Penglai. Penglai is a town and subdivision of the city of Yantai. The city of Yantai contain 6.5 million people while the town of Penglai has about 20,000. Penglai is one of China's oldest military ports, built in 1376 under the Ming dynasty. It is known as a local tourist destination due to the beaches, the new wine-growing region, and the government supported attractions (rebuilt temples, palaces, and other historical sites). It is widely known for its seaside mirages in the spring - a reflection of the city can sometimes be seen over the ocean due to rare atmospheric conditions.

We turned off the main road down some back-alley and were dropped off at the Wanghailou Hotel. The 20-story building looked old, plain, and in need of a face-lift – but then again all the buildings we’d seen so far during our drive fit this description. We entered the small, unlit lobby and were greeted by the receptionist, a young woman who spoke excellent English. She took us to the dimly lit hallway where the elevators were located. It smelled of urine. And dead fish. Nice. We took the elevator to the 17th floor and the receptionist told us that we could choose between 2 rooms. We really didn’t know what to expect upon entering the first room, but we were optimistic as it was the apartment where all of the expats on Amber’s project were living. We certainly weren’t prepared for what we saw next.

The entrance to our apartment building

When we entered the room we stepped into a very large living room that had a lovely 3-piece sofa set taken straight for the 1980’s. There was also a small 5-piece dining table, a glass-topped coffee table, a small entertainment center with a bulky 1990s TV sitting on top, all laid out in a weird, not very functional, arrangement.

The living room and balcony

The walls were off-white in color, dirty, and chunks of it were missing in some areas. We looked into each of the 4 bedrooms and each had a nightstand, TV stand with bulky TV, and a double bed or two single beds. In 3 of the rooms the bed took up 80% of the bedroom leaving very little room to even walk, let alone store things.

Bedroom with hole in the wall

One of the rooms had a hole in the wall, as if it were punched. The 4^th bedroom was bigger than the rest, presumably the master bedroom, but, oddly, it had two single beds instead of a double bed. All of the wallpaper seams could be seen or were peeling, and behind the TV the wallpaper was black with what looked to be water stains.

Peeling wallpaper in the master bedroom

Stained wallpaper and/or no wall behind the wallpaper

The apartment room contained two separate quite large, glass-enclosed balconies with decent views of the city and the ocean. Unfortunately, we couldn’t see the ocean that was literally 3 blocks away because the smog was so thick.

The two bathrooms each had a shower, cracked toilet, and sink. The old fixtures and open plumbing of the sinks were very unattractive to say the least. Curiously, the shower in the 2nd bathroom contained a washing machine. We later realized that we couldn't move the washing machine and use it elsewhere because the connections for it (the water tap and drain) were constructed in the shower. 

The lovely bathroom plumbing

A nice 'open' layout (no shower door or floor divider)

The washing machine sitting in the shower of the 2nd bathroom

The kitchen was fairly small and contained a proper 2-burner gas stove top, a small 2-bowl sink, a dish rack with dishes, and a combination rice-cooker and steamer. Noticeably missing were a refrigerator, oven, and microwave.

At least we were provided with quintessential Asian cookware - a wok and a butcher's knife

The other side of the kitchen included drawers, cabinets, a wall heater, the water heater, and the gas meter.

As we made our way through the apartment I noticed that Amber was brewing inside, like a teapot. Reliving my days as a real estate agent, I did my best to comment on the few positive features, and downplay the negative qualities of the room. The receptionist seemed very proud of the room, re-iterating the size of the space, the number of bedrooms, and the great view. We left the room and went across the hall to inspect the other room. It was quite similar in design and features. The main difference was that the living room had a better layout, there were only 3 bedrooms, and it only had 1 balcony, which wasn’t facing the ocean. Amber opted for the apartment with the better layout, but I opted for the one with more space as I knew we would need it to hold all of our belongings. The receptionist was quit puzzled that we were even considering taking the smaller room, but seemed pleased when we decided on the larger apartment. She handed us our room keys and left us to unpack.

It was then that we were struck with the reality that living in China wouldn’t be another amazing notch to add to our expat exploits. I was happy and relieved that we had finally made it to China. After 4 months of processing and paperwork and unknowns, plus extended hotel living leading up to the big relocation, we could finally get back to a normal living situation and begin to acclimate ourselves to a new culture. Amber, on the other hand, was unimpressed with the drive to Penglai, she was unimpressed with what she saw of Penglai so far, and she was completely disgusted at the ‘dump’ that would be ‘home sweet home’ for the foreseeable future. Or, as we have affectionately come to call our dismal surroundings, “home stanky home”, courtesy of the declaration that Amber’s coworker announces as they approach the apartment's parking lot every single day.

After unpacking a little, decompressing, and coming to grips with reality, we decided that a couple things had to get done by the end of the day – get our cell phones working and buy some sort of mattress support to make the rock-hard bed sleepable. We re-assured each other that everything was going to be okay (mostly me comforting Amber). And then we made our way to the streets of Penglai.

Click here to read the previous post, Destination China - 2nd Leg

Destination China - 2nd Leg

The flight to Singapore was 7 hours and it seemed to go by quickly. I spent most of the time watching movies, which included, “The Hunger Games”, “Prometheus”, and “Red Dog”.

A cute, Australian film based on the true story of an Outback dog

We arrived in Singapore at about 6pm and had to wait until 10:30pm for our flight to Beijing. My plan was to take the Singapore subway to the city and enjoy a dinner, but we had a baggage snafu that required us to be in the terminal during the entire layover. It turns out we should’ve paid for the overweight baggage back in Brisbane and we’d have to pay the fees again during our connection in Beijing. Kudos to the Singapore airport transfer desk for helping us out and saving us a lot of money on luggage transfer costs by re-booking our final flight from Beijing to Yantai on the same airline, Air China, that was taking us from Singapore to Beijing.

The red-eye Singapore-to-Beijing flight wasn’t full so we had plenty of space to sleep during the 6-hour flight. We arrived in Beijing at around 7am on Monday. We only had an hour and a half to get through immigration and customs to catch our next flight to Yantai.  The immigration line took about 20 minutes to get through, this time without incident, and, miraculously, our bags were the very first bags to come off the baggage carousel. Our good luck continued as we walked through customs without having our luggage checked.

Next, we had to figure out where our connecting flight was located. Our tickets were printed in Chinese so we couldn’t figure out what the explanation of the numbers meant. There was a “1” printed on both our tickets near the flight number and departure time, so I assumed this was the terminal number for the flight. We were in terminal 3 (formerly the largest terminal in the world), so we took the 20 minute transfer bus ride to terminal 1. We had 50 minutes to go when we arrived to terminal 1 – still enough time to check-in for a domestic flight. We walked around looking for an Air China check-in counter but we couldn’t see one. We checked the departure screen and there weren’t any Air China flights listed! Confused, we asked the information desk about our flight, and they told us that we had to go to terminal 3! Deflated, we went outside to wait for the next terminal transfer bus, but we know it would be another 10 minutes before the next one arrived.

Rather than wait for the next inter-terminal bus, we decided to take a taxi. A Chinese man kind of hanging out by the curb seemed to understand our concern and urgency. With a lit cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth he offered, in half Chinese and half broken-English, to get us to terminal 3. Violating one of the cardinal rules for travel overseas (not using a proper, accredited taxi service), we accepted his offer. For all we knew this guy was waiting at the terminal to pick up a family member and was taking advantage of a chance to make some money off of us to pass the time. We defied the laws of physics by cramming all four of our suitcases, our backpacks, and 3 people into his tiny car and sped off towards the correct terminal. The trunk was wide open with our bags precariously hanging out and held intact by a thin piece of string. The car was noticeably riding low in the back and the engine was working hard to keep up with the flow of traffic. During the trip, the driver was excitedly and constantly speaking to me in Chinese, laughing and slapping the dashboard to point out the unnatural angle the vehicle was driving in. He also said the word “policeman” several times in English, made police siren noises, and gestured that we’d have to pay money if we were pulled over. I nodded in agreement, laughed timidly, and just hoped we wouldn’t get pulled over. Next, he pointed at the passenger side mirror and, from what I gathered, commanded to me (in Mandarin) to keep a constant watch in the mirror. I wasn’t sure if he was telling me to watch for our falling luggage or to keep an eye out for the police. I kept a steady eye for both and, thankfully, neither caused us any problems as we approached terminal 3. Visibly pleased with himself, the driver happily helped us unload everything, accepted my payment (probably double what it should’ve been, but still only about $7USD), and waved us farewell and “Bye-Bye.”

Beijing Airport terminal 3 - built for the 2008 Olympics, it was the largest terminal in the world until the Dubai Airport terminal 3 surpassed it 

We looked at the departure screen for terminal 3 and saw that we only had 15 minutes until the flight was to depart.  We knew we were going to miss the flight and our only hope was that we could get on a later flight to Yantai. When we got to the Air China check-in desk, we were informed that our flight was delayed for 2 hours. What a relief! We were going to make it! We checked our bags, passed through security and enjoyed breakfast at one of the few restaurants available – KFC. Much to our delight the sausage breakfast sandwich tasted like a sausage sandwich from the US (not that weird Australian version of sausage). I also had a bubble tea (milk tea) to drink that had the yummy ‘pearls’ in the bottom.

The flight from Beijing to Yantai only took an hour. It was getting apparent that we were moving further away from Westernized China and venturing into the true, “rural” China. All the other passengers were Chinese. All of the announcements were performed first in Mandarin and followed by extremely thick-accented (and sometimes unrecognizable) English. In-flight magazines didn’t have any English in them. And last but not least, the in-flight snack was noodles with sauce, a bun, and a boiled egg.

We gathered our luggage at the baggage carousel in Yantai and looked around the tiny terminal for a person holding a sign with our name on it. The company-appointed driver was nowhere to be seen. We had the phone number of the company travel liaison, but our cell phones didn’t work and there weren’t any working payphones! Our only hope now was to use somebody’s cell phone to call the liaison. I approached the information desk and asked the lady if I could use the phone. Her puzzled looked told me that she didn’t speak any English. I made the international gesture of using a cell phone (thumb and pinky extended, held to my ear and mouth) and pointed to our liaison’s phone number on our printout. She understood my gesture, pulled out her personal cell phone and called the liaison. After a brief conversation, she gestured for us to wait – wait for what and for how long, we weren’t sure. So we waited. Five minutes later a man on his phone bustled up to the information desk holding a piece of paper with our names on it. We found our driver! After waving our appreciation to the lady at the desk, we gathered our bags, trudged out to the parking lot, and shoved our bags and tired bodies into the mini-van. We had finally arrived and settled in for the final stretch of our journey to Penglai.

Click here to read the next post, "Destination China - Home Stanky Home" 

Click here to read the previous post, "Destination China - First Leg"

Destination China - First Leg

I handed my passport, boarding pass, and departure slip to the immigrations officer at the Brisbane International Airport. Check-in and security check transpired smoothly and quickly, and this was the last checkpoint before I could enter the International terminal to catch my flight to Singapore, and onward to China.

The officer looked at the documents and scanned my passport. “How long have you been in Australia?”

“A little over two years,” I said.

“You don’t have a visa on this passport,” she explained.

“It’s on my old passport which was going to expire this year. This is my renewed passport.”

“Well, you should’ve had the visa transferred to your new passport. Do you have your old passport?”

Transfer the visa to my new passport? The Australian visa was applied to my old passport electronically. A stamp or sticker was never physically added to the old passport. Surely, they had record of my visa and old passport somewhere in their database of records.

“Yes, but it’s in my checked bags.”

She frowned, clearly unimpressed and skeptical of my answer. “I need you to go over there for further questioning”. She was pointing to the far end of the counters and motioned to another immigration officer to escort me to the holding area. My heart sank. We were cutting it close to making the flight, and a long delay here would certainly mean a missed flight. After a 3-month process to get our Chinese visas approved, filled with red tape and delays, it seemed ironic that my departure was in jeopardy by Australian immigration because of my new passport, which was renewed in order to conform to Chinese immigration law stating that visa entrants can not enter the country with a passport set to expire within 6 months.  I took a deep breath, quickly told a waiting Amber that I was needed for questioning about my visa, and followed the officer to the holding area.

Department of Immigration
and Citizenship

After months of anticipation and waiting, our departure date to China had finally arrived.

We woke up around 7am and did our “Insanity” workout as scheduled  - not even relocating countries was going to stop us from getting our work out on!

After the difficult, yet invigorating work out, we got ready, packed the last of our things, checked out of our hotel room that we had called home for the past 2 months, and taxied to the Brisbane International Airport. The check-in and security processes were unusually quick and easy. We even didn’t have to pay the overweight baggage fees. We congratulated ourselves on how easy it had all been.

The line to get through immigration was fairly long, but moved steadily. After 15 minutes in line Amber passed through immigration without incident, but I was being escorted to the holding area. The area consisted of a makeshift cubicle office with a sitting area in the front occupied by two families also needing further questioning.

I handed my documents to the immigrations officer who chided me that I should have been carrying both passports. I purposely didn’t carry both passports because I thought it was illegal to do so! I didn’t tell the officer this, as she didn’t look like she was in the mood to have a two-way conversation. 

While she scanned my passport and made a phone call (perhaps to Interpol, the CIA, or ASIO?), I imagined myself as the next feature on the popular Australian TV show, “Border Security”. It’s a reality TV show that chronicles the everyday workings of the Australian customs and immigrations officers. Most of the show is focused on following agents as they question and search (and usually find) illegal contraband, or question people with dubious travel intentions and/or questionable visas or passports. I could see myself in one of the interview rooms being patronizingly questioned by an immigration officer. Between the questionings, the TV host, with his overly dramatic and accusatory voice, would question why I had a brand new passport without an Australian visa and hint at the possibility that my stay in Australia had been illegal which could result in my imminent deportation. I would put my head in my hands asking myself, “Why is this happening?” while viewers at home would be quick to judge, “Yup, that bloke is up to no good. Deport him!”

After 5 minutes on the phone, the immigration officer handed my documents back to me, told me that I was free to go, and instructed me to transfer my visa to the new passport - yeah, I’ll be sure to do that seeing that it would expire upon my departure within the hour!

With the brief scare now behind us, we were back on schedule and had enough time to grab a quick breakfast in the terminal before boarding the plane to Singapore.

Click here to read the next post, "Destination China - 2nd Leg"