At the Yellow Dragon Stadium in Hangzhou.

Sick of me writing about Wang Leehom yet? Well, tough ’cause I’m gonna be a fan girl for a little bit and tell you about the concert I went to this weekend!

I don’t want to come off sounding like a total hipster, but the fact is that most bands I go see play in smaller venues. Theaters, clubs, etc. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone to a stadium show for a pop star and I had high expectations for more than just a concert. I was expecting a performance and I’ve gotta say Wang Leehom did not disappoint.

Right from the start it was overly dramatic. The stadium went dark and a video started to play on the screen. It was nazi-like soldiers, and a wasted apocalyptic world, and then Wang Leehom kicking their ass. Smoke starts steaming across the stage, 4 drummers start banging dramatic music, several dancers march out with military precision and then, suddenly, it gets very quiet. And  tiny figure in red comes out. Everybody cheers. Then the music starts with a fury, Leehom starts singing and we’re off!

Red lights, dramatic drummers, smoke and were off!

There was a choir of children, a flying piano, ethnic dancers, and I’m pretty sure I saw a tank at one point. It was truly a spectacle that didn’t leave me disappointed. The entire background was video screens that sometimes showed crazy lights and patterns, but also could move. One point the screen opened to reveal a large orchestra sitting there, playing away, another point Leehom stood on a raised platform and interacted with the screen (It was a choreographed animation piece where he sang and interacted with what was happening on the screen. Very entertaining.)

Kinda blurry but you can see Leehom in the middle and he sang and moved in time with the animation on the screen.

I also know he is master of a million instruments and he showed off a little. Of course he played piano (the flying one) and guitar, but at one point he played the violin like a boss, and then whipped out an erhu (traditional chinese instrument). I filmed a small piece of it. (Youtube video)

You can see, in the video, how far away I was from the stage. (And I bought the expensive tickets!) But on the side of the stage they had 2 giant video screens showing the action on the stage. So even though he looked like a tiny person to me, I could see his face and body clearly on the screens. It was also cool because during his songs the side video screens showed the lyrics. This is a genius idea and totally helped me and everyone else sing along.

Even though we were face away, we could still see all the action clearly thanks to the screens.

This was my first chinese concert as well, and I didn’t know what to expect. I have seen some on TV so I knew that everyone would have light-up glow sticks and be sitting down. Before we went into the concert we bought a foam, flashy light thing because we didn’t want to be left out. But it turns out that we didn’t need to because our seat had 2 for free. They also gave everyone a plastic poncho as the stadium was open and it had been raining on and off all day. (Our seats were in the middle of the field area and therefore exposed. The cheaper seats were the actual stadium seats and they were covered.)

We sat in plastic lawn chairs. My friend Becca came with me not knowing much about Leehom before the concert, but leaving a fan.

In Chinese concerts everyone sits and watches the show, which I think is especially lame. Luckily we were towards the back and everyone decided to stand and dance and cheer. At one point a security guard told us to sit down, but after he left we all stood up again.

And Leehom fans were insanely excited. We looked for other laowai, foreigners, and didn’t see any (though there must have been some?) I expected a lot of screaming girls but what I actually found was the boys were screaming much louder and enthusiastically. There was this young couple next to me (college age) and the boy was absolutely flipping out the entire time. He screamed the lyrics to every single song, waved the foam light up thing so frantically he hit my head a few dozen times, and when his girlfriend tried to talk to him he completely brushed her off. At one point Leehom kind of looked in our direction and I swear this kid jizzed his pants.

This is the kid next to me that was soooooo excited the whole time.

The thing that I will say I was most impressed with what Leehoms personality. He stopped the concert several times to talk to the audience and it created a feeling of intimacy I didn’t expect in a 50,000 seat stadium. And while it must have been hard for him, he really tried to interact with the audience as much as he could. Another common thing in Chinese concerts is light up signs with either the singers name, or your hometown. Leehom noticed everyone of them. “Shanghai Pengyou,” he said pointing at one. Shanghai friends. “Xiang Gang pengyou,” he said pointing at another. Hong Kong friends. He did that with every single sign he could see. “Happy birthday pengyou,” he said at one point joking. (It was his birthday so instead of their hometown some people had a light up birthday sign.)

At one point he even took out a piece of paper and thanked everyone that helped him come to Hangzhou. I thought that was really nice. Then, about 2 hours after he started, he said he was going to sing his last song, a super cheesy love song called Forever Love.

And I’ll admit I was a little disappointed. On his youtube channel, he does these “I love you” videos, in which he gets the entire crowd to say I love you to the camera. But he didn’t do it with us. Also, while he sang most of my favorite songs there was 2 that he didn’t sing. And to end on a cheesy love song? So lame.

But he left and the lights didn’t go back on so I knew we were in for an encore. He not only sang the songs I waned to hear (and made the video I wanted to make. You can see it on youtube here.) But he just sang acappella for a really long time. In fact the encore was about 45 minutes longer making the entire concert 3 hours. And he just seemed, well, very chatty. He didn’t just sing, but talked and sung and talked and sung. Aside from the first few songs the whole thing seemed very off the cuff. In fact it kinda started to rain, and we had friends waiting for us, but it just kept going and it seemed like Leehom didn’t want to leave the stage. He just kept singing songs with no accompaniment except for the thousands of audience members singing with him.

There was also another weird thing. When we first got into the stadium we had some time so I wanted to hit up the merch table. I saw a table and stuff in one part of the arena so we headed over. But it was just water and popcorn. So I asked some volunteers where the Wang Leehom stuff was and they said there wasn’t any. I had seen some people with a Wang Leehom bags and they told me I would have to go outside to buy it from the people selling things out of their cars and on blankets. There was no official merchandise! How odd.

We had to go outside to find some Leehom merchandise. Some of my students who were also at the concert bought me a bag! So sweet.

Outside after the concert there was plenty though. And it was cheap. $2 for a t-shirt, $1 for a poster. $1.25 for a bag. I ended up buying pretty much everything (except the buttons that said I love Heehom. They couldn’t even spell his name right!) Some friends were waiting for us after the concert and my Leehom poster turned out to be an additional member of our party. He sat at the table, got to drink his own drinks and he ended up making out with a lot of people. Heh heh.

“Who has batter hair, me or him?” my Thai friend asked me.

Seeing Wang Leehom in concert has been a dream of mine for a long time, so I’m glad I finally got to accomplish it. And it was totally amazing and awesome and fun and everything I hoped it would be. Now I’m going to work on my next dream, to meet him in person!

I like him so much I even forgive he is a Yankee fan.

Tonight I will be achieving one of my goals while living in China: I am going to see my favorite Chinese pop star Wang Leehom in concert!!

I’ve written about Wang Leehom several times on this blog, including this intro post and another post on the time I sang one of his songs to my students. And here in China my love for him is very well known. When Leehom announced his latest concert tour, I had several students telling me he was coming to Hangzhou, and then the day the tickets went on sale my student helper sat on her computer for 30 minutes waiting for the sale time. She was so fast she was the third person to buy tickets out of thousands of people!

And I’ve waxed poetic about Leehom, his musical ability and his super hotness, but he’s more than just a pretty face. He recently went on his first world tour and while in England gave a talk at Oxford about the importance of spreading Chinese pop music to the west as a means of a better world. I usually only hear him speak in Chinese so it is especially interesting for me to hear him speak English. (He’s an American, btw.)

This is his talk on youtube

This is his talk on tudou (with chinese subtitles)

I like his metaphor, about roommates that don’t get along (one hogging all the hot water and being noisy at night) vs the roommates that are different, but deal with the differences and ultimately have a better experience because of each other. Because it’s true. American culture is the big guy in the room. The one that calls the shots and sets the fashion trends and styles. But it doesn’t mean the little guys should be ignored.

We need to hear the other voices, the new sounds and experiences, even if it is ‘strange’ or ‘weird.’ I’ll admit that I do have a bit of trouble getting into chinese pop music (although I’m not the biggest fan of western pop music either) because it is just not my aesthetic.  But I’m trying, and I’m going to keep trying because I think these things should be heard. And I think different kinds of music should spread around the world (not just american music spreading everywhere) because it will ultimately benefit us all.

And in my effort, here are a few Wang Leehom songs I especially like. Hope you like them too! (Youtube videos, sorry you need a VPN is you are in China.)

This is my favorite music video of his. The title is something like “I totally have no reason to care about you.” It was written in response to critics and music “experts” (who, I think, talked smack about him.)

This is his most epic, kung-fu video. It’s a tad silly but I still like it.

This is more love songy than the others. But you get to see him mix traditional instruments with the modern song which I like, and you get to see him play the guzhen a bit.

I have been hearing about the book for awhile (as one of my favorite bloggers is a contributor) and I’ve been wanting to get my hands on a copy. But living in the boonies doesn’t really afford me the opportunity to get the latest book published by a small press. So when I heard about the book signing, I made sure to arrive in Shanghai in time to see it.

I mean, people that love living in China? Love traveling? Actually learn the language and then writing about it?! These people should basically be my best friends. It’s hard to find an expat that really enjoys living in China much less a writer. So I was really excited to go and soak in the creativity.

This was just a small event, with 3 of the 28 contributors and the editor. It was in a small English language bookshop and the event, held in the cafe section, had maybe 20-30 listeners. Mostly on the older side.

And here’s where it got weird. I was kind of expecting this camaraderie from the group. A kind of “We’re all in this together” feeling of foreigners who have chosen to make China their home. (And in fact the editor asked for a show of hands of who considers China their home. More than half raised their hands.) After all, living in a small city in China, every foreigner is kind of your friend. You can talk to them easily, help each other out, and even if you don’t know them at all, you always smile and nod as you pass each other in the street. Even in Hangzhou, the big city I live near, I have never felt shy or strange when talking to or meeting a foreigner.

But I felt weirdly awkward at the signing, right from the start. I was the only non-Shanghai resident, and I guess that’s what living in a big city does to you. I could clearly make out cliques in the room and it was like everyone was trying very hard not to be impressed with anyone else. At one point the editor asked one of the authors a question and the author replied, “What am I, on the Chinese book tour again?” His meaning being, what a softball, typical question. I think he realized that it was a little rude because after he answered he said, “no, it was a good question though.” Which only made him come off as sounding more condescending.

Graham Earnshaw, an author and publisher of the book, played some songs for the group. They were original China inspired songs and were quite funny!

I was hoping to meet some people, have some interesting conversations but that didn’t happen at all. I liked Tom Carter, the editor, the most because we had similar experiences. During the talk he explained why he came to China, not because of a love for China but rather because he wanted to travel and explore and teaching english was a way to do that. Then he found himself loving Chinese culture and is now married to a Chinese woman and they have a newborn.

But after the talk, I asked him to sign my book. “We have a lot in common,” I said as he was signing it. “I also came to China just as an excuse to travel.” He didn’t say anything back, was kind of looking past me and around the room as he handed the book back. “Thanks for coming!” he said rotely still not looking at me.

Maybe I expected too much. Or maybe I’ve been out of the literary circles too long to remember how to work the cliques. But the whole thing was unsatisfactory. Or I guess it just became painfully obvious how much of a small-town hick I’ve become, unable to navigate the big city social circles.

But regardless, the book is great. I’m about halfway through and I enjoy the stories. There is a huge variety, and each story is short enough to almost want more. (“Then what happened?” I found myself thinking after a few of the stories.) And I love recognizing some of my own experiences in other people’s stories. I would definitely recommend the book and while the whole experience was weird, I’m still glad I went.

This orphanage specialized helping kids with cleft palate problems.

I’ve been missing my Shanghai friends and decided to visit them this past weekend. I told my friends Hannah, a Brit I met several years ago when she came to Lin’an to teach, and she happened to mention that she was going to the grand opening of an orphanage she helped design the same day I’d be there. A couple days after she told me I texted her back, “Can I go with?”

So last Saturday we found ourselves in a suburb of Shanghai on an amazing clear and sunny day. The orphanage was located in a development meant to mimic a suburban neighborhood. The houses were cookie cutter designs (verging on McMansions) with well landscaped roads and paths, guarded by 2 guys that actually did their job. Pretty much the last place you would expect to find an oprhanage, much less one that helped sick kids.

Hannah explained to me how she got involved. At a clothing swap she started to talk to a woman nearby. Somehow, the orphanage came up, and Hannah had been wanting to get her company involved in some pro-bono charity work.  (I should mention that Hannah is a rare foreigners who is not an English teacher. She works for a large international company that specializes in landscape and design.)

The organization had found the house, but it needed a lot of work before it could be a suitable place for kids. So Hannah took control, became the project manager, and got different departments of her company to help out. It was like being a rock star as everyone at the orphanage kept thanking Hannah again and again for everything she did.

Hanging out with the rock star, Hannah.

This orphanage specializes in sick kids, especially kids with cleft palates. These kids go to the ‘normal’ orphanage but have a lot of trouble getting enough nutrition to maintain a healthy weight. The big orphanages are packed and the caregivers can’t give the kid the special attention they need. So even if someone gives money for surgery, the baby is too thin and is refused for surgery.

When this little baby first arrived he was extremely thin and malnourished. Now he’s ready for surgery.

So, this place takes those malnourished  kids and, well, fattens them up. Not for the slaughter, but for the surgery. The place is small, only 12 kids at a time, and 7 staff, so each kid gets a lot of attention. Then, when they’re at the healthy weight this same orphanage pays for their surgery. This is a key point.

You’d think they could just play up the sympathy and get a little pro-bono surgery. But they don’t want to. The director said not only do they pay full price, but every year the directors of the orphanage wine and dine the surgeons taking very good care of them. That’s because most hospitals use orphans for experiments, or for training new doctors (and in both things can go very, very wrong.) So they keep good guanxi, relationship, with the top surgeons to ensue their orphans get good treatment.

Then, after the surgery the orphanage continues to nurse the babies back to health until, about a year after they arrived, they go back to the orphanage where 90% get adopted. They concentrate on babies with cleft palate problems but they also help other kids like a baby with spinal bifida, and a young boy with no hands.

Pretty amazing. And now they finally had a building that matched the good work they were doing. We got a tour of the house and it was amazing. Hannah had seen it a few times in the beginning, but hadn’t seen it all during the construction phase. The place had high ceilings, fresh white walls and was painted in bright, fun colors to give it a cheery atmosphere.

They had a room for all the babies filled with cribs, each one with a name card (with picture) of the baby who was staying there. The staff slept in bunk beds in another room (with a crib for the sickest baby who needed 24-hour care. While we were there we saw a tiny little girl who not only had a severe cleft palate but heart troubles as well. She was the sickest and someone was always nearby her.)

The baby room with cribs lined up and a lot of natural light and bright colors to make it cheery looking.

Everything was suitable for kids, big sinks with rounded corners, a safety barrier than ran up the entire 3-storey staircase so the kids can’t fall down, blocked off area with foam floors where the kids can play. Everyone had to take off their shoes (or put protective coverings over them) and wash their hands with hand sanitizer before entering the house.

The orphanage isn’t run by the government, but rather by a charitable foundation out of Hong Kong called Starfish. As it was the official grand opening people had come from all over for the party; Honk Kong, Malaysia, Singapore, America. English was the language of choice and I’ll admit it was a little funny to hear two Chinese people speaking english to each other. (Hong Kong people speak Cantonese, while mainlanders speak Mandarin. The two languages are totally different.)

The organization is a religious one, Christian, and there was a lot of god talk during the speeches. I’ll admit I’m not a fan of overly zealous people, but these guys were using religion in the right way. As an American I am used to hearing bible quotes to degrade or speak against a group of people (usually gays, or pro-choicers), so it was really refreshing to hear a positive bible quote that talked about helping people, not hurting them.

During the speeches the director and head ladies knew that not everyone in the room was religious. “Even if you don’t believe in God, God worked through you. You did His work without even knowing it was for Him,” the director said at one point. Then she turned to us. “Like you, Hannah,” the woman said pointing.

“Oooh,” I whispered to Hannah after the attention went back to the front of the room. “You were just called out as a heathen in front of everyone!”

It was the first time I had ever been to an orphanage in China and the whole thing was a really interesting, humbling, experience for me. I live in a world in which students whine about writing papers and I complain when I have to work 18 hours a week. But spending time with kids who were abandoned by their parents because of birth defects, and watching the people who dedicate their lives helping them (for peanuts) puts things in perspective.

Maybe the “crappy cafeteria food” isn’t really an important complaint anymore.

I’m not affiliated with them, nor did I do any research into the charity but I am going to share their link here. They seem like really good people and they need donations to keep not only this orphanage but others up and running. Starfish Charitable Foundation.

I think China is kind of famous for massages, right? Well, at least of the ‘happy ending’ variety. And yes, while those are available, for the most part massage is a very legitimate health-based activity here in China.

When I first went, I went to a pretty basic place. 50rmb (about $8) for an hour long foot massage (in which they also massage your back). But now with my new found appreciation for massage I’ve been trying different places. I’ve been to ones ranging from 100rmb ($16) to almost 200rmb. It’s easy to find more expensive places than that, but is it really necessary? I don’t think so. After all, the cheaper ones feel so good anyway.

And they offer so much more than just a massage. The rooms, usually big enough for 1-3 people, have TV’s, snacks and tea they come in regularly to refill. At one place they gave us some delicious hot lychee soup. My chinese friend Justin explained that it was a kind of Chinese medicine. That drinking this soup after a massage was good for you. I’m not sure if it was good, but it was delicious.

For the most part, Chinese massages are incredibly painful. They really grind deep into your muscles. And if they find a knot or tension they dig and and don’t let up till it’s gone. The masseuse might be a cute little 90-pound girl, but don’t let that fool you. The cute ones are just as ruthless as the strong guys. All my Chinese friends tell me that the pain is good for you, and while it might feel horrible while your going through it, the next day you will feel great. Or so they say. I’ve woken up the next day feeling pretty sore.

They have the pretty standard equipment. For the back massage you lie down on a table with a cut out area for your head. And thank god because while I remain silent my face definitely contorts in pain throughout. One place had a nice bowl of rocks and flowers in water under the bed so you could look at it while they were massaging you.

But no matter how much pain they give you during, they usually finish you off right. With a face and head massage. While I wanted to burst out laughing when one lady massaged my eyeballs, for the most part it is incredibly relaxing. And since there is no time limit your allowed to stay in the room and sleep or relax for as long as you want. Once me and my friend were supposed to meet other people after our massage. But we were so relaxed we fell asleep for 30 minutes. They didn’t bother us at all and would let us stay longer if we wanted.

My sleepy friend Justin after the face and head massage. After this picture we fell asleep for 30 minutes.

One friday night my friend Jason and I lucked out. Since the place was pretty full they offered us the VIP room for the regular price. And because they were busy we had awhile in our room to play before the massage started. They offered us nice robes to change into and the room had beds with flowing canopies and a bathroom with a giant stone tub. It was beautiful. And while they massaged us they played soothing traditional Chinese music with the sound of birds chirping and water flowing. Not bad for $30.

Jason trying to be ‘sexy’ in the VIP massage room.

I’m glad I rediscovered the joys of massage in China. It’s good for you, cheap and kinda feels good (okay, even I’ll admit you get used to the pain after awhile.) If you ever come to China, it is an experience you should definitely try!

Fuck the post office!

For almost 4 years I have been sending a package full of envelopes to america with absolutely no problem. My friend Erick and I do pen-pal letters and it has gone without a hitch for more than 3 years. But recently, the post office is trying to make it harder and harder for me to send the stupid letters.

I don’t know if it is due to new laws, or an update of the little school post office (They re-arranged the furniture but as far as I can tell, everything else is the same) but they have been all over me recently every time I try to send a batch of letters. Just a batch of friggin letters. Last time they made me take it home and re-package it in the envelope again. This time, it took me almost 45 minutes to get the damn thing sent.

In China sending a package is crazy hard. (My excuse for why I don’t send gifts to my friends.) They insist on a box with absolutely no writing on it (yet, they don’t sell said boxes) and they have a huge long list of un-sendable things. Then, you cannot seal or close up thick envelopes or packages because they need to inspect it first. They used to just give it a cursory glance, but now they go through it with a fine tooth comb and disallow the stupidest things. For instance one letter had a bow and was wrapped up in a nice envelope. I had to remove the bow, and the envelope, and just shove the letter into the stack.

Then for some random reason the woman didn’t want me to send it in envelopes I had already packed them in perfectly. So she went into the back and found a box. But the box had been used already and had writing on the outside, which is verboten. So she needed a solution for that.

She took the scissors and went to work on the industrial staples holding the box together. I could tell she wanted to remove the staples, completely opening and flattening the box, then put it together inside out. While I appreciate the effort (she could have just flatly refused me, I guess) I had to stand and watch her slowly and painfully take out the industrial staples.

I’m not allowed to touch or help her at all so I just had to sit their, watching the minutes crawl by as she wrestled with this stupid box (practically destroying it in the process.) I tried not to sigh in exasperation, but I think one or two escaped my lips.

Then she went and got a form for me to fill out. (Why she didn’t give it to me before the box process so I could take care of it while she was busy is yet another question best left unasked.) It was the name/address slip. It’s dual language so I had no problem with it. Only, in the spot that you had to write the contents I wrote “letters” in both English and Chinese, just to be clear.

Turns out that was a problem. After she had some conversation with some boss somewhere (no one has ever had to call for approval before, but she did, not sure why) I was supposed to write something else on the form. Just like I was unable to touch the box, she was unable to touch the form and write it for me. My Chinese “post office” vocabulary is quite low and despite her saying it over and over again, I couldn’t understand what she wanted me to write. So she found a piece of scrap paper and scribbled a few characters. They were a friggin mess and totally unintelligible. Just imagine a Chinese person trying to read a doctors handwritten slip. That was how I felt.

I took out my dictionary and asked her the pinyin so I could see it clearly on my phone. “Write that,” she said jabbing at her scrawl.

“I don’t understand that. Tell me the pinyin and I’ll look it up in my dictionary.”

“This,” she said jabbing the paper. “Write this!”

“I don’t know what that says!!” I said, my patience long gone. “What does this say,” I said slowly.

“This, write this.” still jabbing the scrap paper. She clearly didn’t get it.

Finally I communicate to her what I want, and she types it into my dictionary so I can see the characters clearly. She goes back to wrestling with the now structurally unsound box, trying to tape it back together.

Meanwhile, based on her scrawl and poorly communicated words I only write 2 of the four chinese characters she wants me to. She jabs at the scrap paper again and says, “Write this!.”

“I did!” I protested.

“This,” she says pointing at the last 2 characters.

“What does that say?” I ask taking out my phone dictionary again. “What’s the pronunciation?”

“This, write this,” she says still jabbing.

I was stuck in a real-life ‘Who’s on first’ situation.

Finally we get it all done and she hands me the partially put together box. She points to the upper lefthand corner. “Write China” she says. Then the points to the bottom righthand corner. “Write america.”

Okay, I say writing the characters for America and China in the places she told me.

She saw and then said, “Chinese and American address. Address!” Now, why didn’t she say that in the first place.

This was more than 30 minutes, and I was late for my chinese class but I knew rushing her wasn’t going to help anything. Finally she puts my envelope of letters (after looking through it again) into the box. It doesn’t fit. They are too big. She she squishes it, but because the box is just held loosely together by tape, it totally warps and falls apart. Finally, I step in and hold the box in shape while she crams the letters into them.

Then she unloads half a roll of tape to wrap the whole thing up. Actually I was quite impressed with her mad taping skills and lack of frugality with the tape. It was more tape than box by the time she got done with it. Meanwhile, I should add, a small line was forming and everyone was watching her as she taped up the box again and again. “Hurry up!” I could almost here the other patrons shouting in their minds.

Then she entered the information into the computer, printed up the label, I paid the cash and finally, finally I was able to leave. She had been asking me a bunch of questions throughout, but, like I said, my post office vocabulary is pretty much non existence (I can say stamp and fast mail, that’s about it) and she had a very thick local accent so I couldn’t understand her. Though I feel like it worked to my advantage. I almost feel that if I could understand her she would have refused my package for some reason. As it was I think she sent it because sometimes it’s easier just to do what the crazy foreigner wants then try to explain something. Yay for crazy foreigner!

The post office is taking all the fun out of these pen pal letters. The problems are escalating and I feel like they are on the verge of flat out refusing me. I don’t normally feel the oppression of the government, and normally can say and do what I like without fear. But not at the damn post office! They make me feel at best like a crazy diva just causing trouble and at worse a criminal.

Fuck the post office!

It’s something I don’t put a lot of thought into, but I slowly realized, over the past few months, the ride home has become more and more enjoyable. It’s usually always late, the roads are empty, the sky is dark and while I’m sleepy (and probably a little drunk) I’m not going to fall asleep, so me and the driver usually talk. Sometimes we talk the whole way back, sometimes we chat just a little, but I’ve never had an unpleasant ride home and it’s becoming a perfect way to end the night.

The drivers, never one to miss out on a buck, don’t want to drive just one person back. So they make you wait as long as necessary for another person to arrive. Or, if you get tired of that you can pay almost double to leave right away. Something I learned the hard way.

One night, around 2am, I got into the taxi.

“Da Xi Men,” I told the driver, meaning the gate of my school.

“Haode,” he replied. “Deng yi xia.” Ok, wait a moment. 

Sure, sure, I said thinking that we needed to wait for someone on the way or something. No problem. His wife (who had a feathered hairstyle that would make any White Snake fan jealous) was in the front seat playing with an ipad. She was playing Fruit Ninja and I laughed and said I liked that game. I flopped down in the back seat and took out my own phone to pass the few minutes we were waiting.

10 minutes goes by, then 15.

“Are we going to go soon?” I finally asked.

“Deng yi xia,” he replied. Wait a minute.

20 minutes, then 25 minutes goes by and finally,

“What are we waiting for?” I asked.

“Another customer,” he replied.

“Another customer?! But it’s almost 2:30 am I don’t think anyone else is coming!”

“Someone will come eventually,” he said soothingly. “Just go to sleep, I’ll wake you when someone else comes.”

Go to sleep in the back of a taxi at a sketchy bus station at 2:30 in the morning?! Err, no thanks.

Another 5 minutes goes by.

“I’d really like to leave now. Can we go?” I ask.

“Well, we can go if you pay me 100 rmb.” Normally the price is 60 rmb ($10) per person. 100 rmb is almost double, but for an almost hour long taxi ride I consider even that a bargain. Why hadn’t he said so earlier?!

Since that ride I have always asked the driver if we could go now if I pay more money. Some drivers are really funny. Because I’m a foreigner, they want to double and triple check I understand.

“If we go now, it’s 100rmb,” one driver told me in slow, careful Mandarin.

“Okay,” I said quickly. “Let’s go!”

“I want to make sure you understand. It’s 100rmb,” he said again slowly.

“I pay you 100rmb, we go right now,” I repeated in equally slow and careful mandarin.

“Right!” he said laughing and starting the car.

Another time, I had the opposite experience.

“One person is 60rmb,” the driver started telling me as I approached the taxi. “But we have to wait for another customer. If you want to go now…”

“It’s 100rmb. Yes, I know, let’s go now.” I said interrupting him and getting into the car without missing a beat.

There are usually a few local taxi’s waiting around and as a result I end up chit chatting with all the drivers for a few minutes before we go. The other night I met a duo I can only describe as the Chinese Waldorph and Statler. They weren’t grumpy, but they were this funny team kind of finishing each others sentences and laughing at each others jokes.

“You Ukranian?” They asked me. A common mistake as my school has about 60 Ukranian students and with my pale skin and blond hair we look alike.

“No!” I said with mock shock. “I’m American.”

“Good,” they said. “We don’t like those Ukranian’s. They’re bad guys!” Some of the Ukranian boys actually beat up a taxi driver in my city. As it is a small city word spread very quickly and even now my British co-worker has trouble sometimes when he tries to get a taxi because they believe he is a Ukranian and don’t want to deal with him.

“Where are you coming from?” They asked. “A bar?”

“Of course!” I said, “It’s 3am on a friday night. Where do you think I’m coming from?”

They laughed. “Actually it’s 3am on Saturday morning,” one helpfully pointed out.

In the taxi me and the driver usually talk. The chit chat always begins pretty predictably. Where are you from? What do you teach? how much money do you make? Lin’an taxi drivers are the only taxi drivers I’ve talked to who are not impressed with my salary. They are incredibly corrupt, never ever using the meter, and are masters at squeezing as many customers into a car at once and making a quick buck. In fact, almost every late night driver has an iphone. Not just any iphone, an iPhone 5. Something I certainly cant afford.

I ask about their lives, their age (shockingly many are close to my age yet look much older) and their family. I’ve listened to proud dads talk about their kids who just entered college, or they tell me that their primary school kid got a good grade in english.

Once, only once, I had a female driver. “It’s cool to have a female driver. I usually only see guys. You’re a modern woman!” I said.

“En,” she grunted back (a chinese kind of catch-all noise) then turned up the music, clearly not interested in chatting.

Sometimes I go to Hangzhou with some Lin’an friends so we taxi back together. Once me and my friend Becca went. Becca can speak Chinese so it’s especially fun to go with her because I don’t have to translate.

One night, very late, we were heading back with another guy in the cab. Becca, who was on the slightly drunk side, had wanted to some baozi, or dumplings, and she got me some too. It was nice, but I was not interested in eating them. I was sitting in the front seat, she was in the back with the other guy.

“Here, take your baozi!” she said holding up the bag.

“I don’t want them,” I said. “You eat them.”

“I don’t want them either,” she said. Then she turned to the guy in the back seat. “Ni yao baozi ma?” Do you want baozi? He laughed and said no. So she stuck her head between the front seat, dangling the bag out in front of her and said to the driver, “Ni yao baozi ma?” He also didn’t want them.

“Is your friend drunk?” the driver whispered to me.

The four of us were talking on the way back and we discovered the guy was going to Lin’an just for the day.

“Do you live there?” Becca asked.

“No,” he said.

“Do you work there?”

“No.”

“Do you have friends?”

“No.”

“Then why are you going?” she asked.

“Wo you shi,” he replied. I have something to do.

Then in English she said to me, “I think he’s mafia.”

I laughed and asked why.

“He’s wearing a really expensive suit, has some nice jewelry and is going to Lin’an at 4am because he ‘has stuff to do?’ That seems really suspicious.” She had a point.

They asked our age and we told them to guess. Unfortunately they guessed that Becca, who is 14 years younger than me, was 30 and I was 25. I laughed liked crazy while Becca got (mockingly) mad at them. They asked us pretty early on in the ride, so throughout the rest of the trip she kept bringing it up. At one point, while Becca was talking to the guy in the back seat, the driver leaned over to me and said, “Is your friend mad because we thought she was older?”

“Maybe,” I said. “But I’m happy so it’s okay.” He laughed.

Talking to taxi drivers is one of my favorite ways to practice my Chinese. Usually they are local people, which means thick, hard to understand accents, but they deal with a lot of different people everyday and most are quite chatty by nature. So it’s helpful and passes the time. I mean, if I’m getting ripped off I might as well get some free practice out of them while I’m at it!

Photo Credit

The view from my front door. Notice the wet patch on the wall, and the darker patch on the landing. It’s not a shadow, but rather the wet concrete.

There is a phrase often used by foreigners when you just can’t believe your eyes. When a decision or an action defies all logic, common sense and decency. That phrase? This is China (Often shortened to TIC, or TIFC after an especially annoying situation.)

Boss tells you you have a 3-day holiday but have to work for 7-days straight beforehand? TIC.

A mom that brings her child past the bathroom to go outside and take a shit on the ground, right where people are walking? TIC.

Taxi drivers that lock their door, slowly drive by a group of people desperate for a ride, everyone shouting at him where they go then he takes off after accepting no one? TIC.

I had a TIC moment the other day, right in the comfort of my own home.

You see, several months ago, I noticed a little problem. In the hallway, outside my apartment, there appeared a leak. It was obviously from my apartment, my bathroom wall is on the other side of the hallway, but my bathroom had no problems, and it started right after a 2-week water outage. There was no way I was going to tell anyone and lose my water for even a few more hours after that fiasco so I just let it leak without telling anyone.

So I watched as the wall began to degrade more and more. The paint peeling off more and more and the water strain spreading from just a small patch to a bigger and bigger patch along the wall then unto the floor. While it was clearly from my apartment I figured it wasn’t really my responsibility. There is a lady that cleans the place everyday and surely she must have noticed and told the bosses. Or maybe my neighbor, head of one of the school’s departments, would tell the maintenance guy.

Months went by, the stains got bigger and bigger and I began to wonder the effects of a water leak in a concrete building. I mean, it was soaking through the concrete, that can’t be good right?

So yesterday, as someone from the office came to my apartment for a signature I pointed it out to them. “I really think it needs to be fixed,” I said. “It’s even leaking through the concrete to the floor below now. Mold is growing.”

Not just mold. Apparently some industrious insect found a perfect moist home for its eggs.

“Yeah,” he kind of said nonchalantly. “We know. But it’s too hard to fix. It would create a big mess to fix it.”

“Of course,” I said. “But it’s leaking water. Water. That isn’t good for the building.”

He kind of shrugged again. “I know. But nobody cares.”

“But, it’s only going to get worse.”

“One of the other buildings has the same problem,” he said as if that made it any better.

“And they’re doing nothing. The owners of the buildings really don’t care?”

He just kind of shuffled his feet and looked apologetic.

TIC.

Now if you’ll excuse me I have to see if I can find some literature on how water affects the stability of a concrete building.

But first, a confession:

I mentioned a few months ago that me and my chinese boyfriend broke up. But I kind of mentioned it in passing, at the bottom of a post because things weren’t really clear to me. You see, we broke up, but we didn’t break up. He’s a bad boyfriend, but we get along like gangbusters and well, we are very compatible in other areas as well. *cough*

So we’ve still been seeing each other for the past several months, just without the label of boyfriend/girlfriend. (Which is perfect for me as I don’t want a serious boyfriend right now.) In fact, I realized with a shock that we have been together for 8 friggin’ months. At this rate we’re going to get married while technically not even dating.

Now that that’s off my chest I’ll start with the stories, highlighting some of the more absurd moments. Last summer, when I was living in Kunming, I was seeing a local guy. We had spent some time together, traveled around the city, did different things. I even met some of his friends and had a home cooked meal at their house. One night I invited him over and I went outside to meet him at the bus stop.

As I was waiting, a friend walked by. I told the friend I was waiting for someone and he sat down to keep me company. We chatted and before long I realized my date should have arrived by now. So I texted him, “Where are you?”

I quickly got a reply back. “You’re not alone.”

That’s when I looked over at the bus stop and noticed a lone pair of skinny legs standing there, the rest of the body hidden by those big bus stop signs. I knew whose those legs belonged to.

“Come on over,” I texted back. I even shouted out “guo lai!” come here. But the legs remained unmoving.

Finally I told my friend that he had to leave as this guy was too shy to come out of hiding until I was alone. It wasn’t until my friend had walked away, and turned the corner, that I saw a little head peek out and my date finally revealed himself. Then he made me wait 5 more minutes before going up, lest we run into my friend waiting for the elevator.

Actually, sadly, a lot of my stories have to deal with the timidity of chinese guys. Once, I spent the whole day with a guy. We ate together, hung out, went shopping, took a walk in the park. We had a great time, got along really well, but aside from a brief moment where he put his arm around me, nothing physical had happened.

Really late at night he walked me back to my room. He stood outside the building and leaned in close. This is it, I though, a good night kiss.

He leans in close, then thrusts his hand out in front of my face for a handshake. “Good night!” he says then runs off into the dark.

But even a hand shake was better than some guys. Once a guy came to my school and we stayed out until 4am just talking by the lake. There was no one else around, the weather was summertime warm and steamy, and we had sat in a gazebo eating lychee fruit, drinking milk tea and talking about our lives. We had been out a few times, and I thought things were going really well. I walked him to the gate of my school, and he suddenly picked up his pace and began speed walking out the gate waving bye frantically at me from a distance.

I will say I knew enough about dating chinese guys at that point to know the nervous running away from me thing was actually a good sign. And sure enough soon after he finally made his move (which is another hilarious story but I’m too shy to share that one. Sorry!) and he eventually became my boyfriend.

There was one guy who didn’t get very far with me because of the way he started. We were chatting and he asked me what I did. “Sales?” he guessed. I said no, I was a English teacher and we kept chatting. Before long he asked what I did back in America. “Sales?” he guessed again.

“I had many jobs,” I said, “but never sales.” We continue chatting and 10 minutes later he asked me if I ever worked in an automotive parts shop. Now, all this was going on in chinese, and that question threw me off vocabulary-wise, and well, random-wise. Automotive parts?! “No, I never sold automotive parts,” I said.

We continued chatting but now I was on my guard. My suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later when he asked me if I sold auto parts in China. “What is it with you and auto parts?!” I asked. “I have no interest in auto parts. Stop asking me about auto parts!”

“Okay, okay,” he said kind of laughing. “I won’t.” Time goes by, we’re still chatting and then he finally says, “So do you want to sell auto parts in China with me? You can order them from America and I can sell them in China.”

Needless to say, that relationship didn’t work out.

These stories are really just the tip of the iceberg on some experiences I’ve had. Maybe some of you are wondering why I bother. Why do I bother struggling with language (I’ve never dated an english speaker in China) and/or culture difference? Why not just date foreigners? Well, I’m in China to experience China. And to me dating Chinese guys is just part of that. Like I’ve said in the past, I didn’t come to china to eat western food all the time, and have only foreign friends. I’m here to experience life in China, and dating is a part of that, and has really enriched my life here.

(Plus, the guys are really hot. Heh heh.)

Photo Credit

I knew that they had no clue, so I gave them a hint.

“It’s a movie that came out when I was a kid. I’ve loved it since I was young,” I said hinting at Star Wars.

The conferred with each other for a minute and then said, “Gone With the Wind?”

“Dammit, I’m not THAT old!”

Just another day as a foreign teacher in China. And yes, they were serious.