Po Pagoda, a Northern Song pagoda blanketed in tiles with Buddhist images, towers above the traditional courtyard homes and alleys that surround it.
Just outside of the center of Kaifeng, there’s an unusual neighborhood of old one-story, brick courtyard homes, trees and labyrinthine streets that just barely fit the taxi we rode in that afternoon. It’s a marvel, because most of these neighborhoods have been consumed by the high-rise reality of China’s real estate. Even my friend from Zhengzhou, the capital of Henan Province that sits just one hour East of Kaifeng, lamented the loss of his own boyhood courtyard home, surrounded by trees — just like the ones we pass by.
My view of Shanghai changed completely when I became gainfully employed as a copywriter, in a downtown office with a view of its own. (photo by Jens Schott Knudsen, courtesy of Wikipedia)
From the 12th floor of a certain office tower about a mile from the Bund, you can see some of the most quintessential views of Shanghai. Shanghai’s futuristic Pudong skyline — from the Oriental Pearl Tower’s shining space needle to the Jin Mao Tower’s steel pagoda — rises just above the buildings before us, out the East-facing windows. From the West-facing windows, the manicured greenery of People’s Square is bordered on one end by the ding-shaped Shanghai Museum, and, on the other, by a melange of fin de siecle and contemporary archecture on Nanjing Road. And just to the South is the Yan’an Road elevated highway and tunnel, restlessly pumping a neverending stream of traffic East and West, from Pudong to Puxi and Puxi to Pudong.
As I moved to Shanghai in a microvan, I left behind Hangzhou -- and the memories -- and moved forward with John's support. (image from Mytho88, courtesy of Wikipedia)
I moved many times in my life. But I never moved in China — in a microvan — until March 1, 2003.
The gray microvan belonged to John’s cousin, a driver for an express mail service based in Shanghai. According to John, many people with a high school education — or less — left Tonglu to get into the express mail business. Tonglu natives now ran many of the smaller express mail services in the Yangtze River Delta area, including Shanghai. I imagine one Tonglu man left and made his fortune in express mail, bringing his contacts with him — and later inspiring copycat entrepreneurs. But, clearly, the model was working for this cousin. He had only a high school education, but he actually owned a car — a car that would help me move my home to Shanghai.
With only a job interview, no firm offers and a temporary visa expiring April 15, I still flirted with uncertainty in my life. But I had a lot of strength behind it all, because of John, my Chinese boyfriend. John found us an apartment, and put down a deposit. John asked his cousin to move me to Shanghai. And, through it all, John calmed my fears, reminding me “we were in the same company.” Continue reading “Chapter 54: I’m Leaving Hangzhou on a Microvan”
Should you wait to tell your Chinese boyfriend "I love you?"
Should I Say “I Love You” asks:
I’m an American woman dating a Chinese American man in the US, and need your help.
After just a few months [with him] I find myself thinking of him constantly! We talk all day long, via text, and spend at least an hour a day on the phone. We live about 50 miles apart, so sometimes I drive through hours of traffic just to see him; and he has to walk to a bus, take a train & then I pick him up & we drive some more to come to my house. We do our best to get together every weekend, but have gone 2 weekends without seeing one another and it was BRUTAL! The closeness of our connection and the quickness of it scares us both.
We talked about it a few weeks ago; I am just coming out of a HUGE relationship that I thought was going to last forever and I am now in a big ugly financial mess as a result–3 years ago he was ready to propose to someone who broke his heart, and now he is working full time while going to school full time and his priorities are finishing school [With an A average and no less, of course ;-)] and hopefully landing a job in his dream career. We talk about societal pressures to “settle down”, have kids, “grow up” and neither of us are really willing to conform to those norms. We discussed how it is good that we kind of live far apart, it allows us to take care of our responsibilities etc. during the week, and then really enjoy each other’s company on the weekends. But even with that distance, we are extremely close and I think both frightened by it.
A few weeks ago, we had spent the weekend together and it was beautiful. The next day we talked on the phone, and he shared with me that he is nervous that his feelings for me are much more than he expected, and he is afraid if our relationship moves too fast he will not accomplish his goals. I appreciated his honesty, he told me once that expressing himself openly is often very hard for him, so I knew it was important if he told me about it. Frankly, I think our relationship right now is PERFECT! We connect intellectually, emotionally, and most DEFINITELY PHYSICALLY (Yes!). The distance and other circumstances does prevent us from moving way ahead of ourselves and it’s a little safety net.
So here it is……………I am in love with him. No matter how I try to rationalize myself out of it, or think of reasons this could just be a “fling” or a “rebound” I have just connected so deeply with this man on so many levels it can be nothing but love. Certainly not at all what I had expected, but I guess it’s better when things happen that way, isn’t it? I am not ready to tell him this, because I feel it is too soon, and I don’t want to put any unnecessary pressure there at all. But sometimes the way he looks at me, right into my eyes, he seems that he wants to say the same thing too. It was after the first time he looked at me this way that we had our “I’m scared” conversation. It’s like every time I look into his eyes I want to scream “I LOVE YOU”, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Am I wrong for holding that in? Continue reading “Ask the Yangxifu: Waiting to Say “I Love You” To a Chinese Boyfriend”
A lie may have brought me into Shanghai, but it was the truth that would make me gainfully employed in China.
My Chinese friend Jane recommended me to Nick Jin, the CEO of a Shanghai Internet company, saying I once worked for Alibaba, and studied Mandarin at Zhejiang University. I finally had a contact in Shanghai — but what he knew about me was a lie.
Jane, a sprightly girl with a boy cut known for unconventional clothing and church-chime ringtones on her cell phone, had her reasons. “I mentioned Zhejiang University to prove you can speak good Chinese.” And Alibaba? “He really hates the Chinese Internet company you worked for.” Nick despised the company because of his experience there as a manager. Mr. CEO’s stinginess — he actually decreased Nick’s stock shares, and later, absorbed them all when Nick left — drove him to form a new company in Shanghai.
As I grappled with the uncertainty of finding a new job, and wondering where to live in China, I began to realize that my bad luck just might be a blessing after all.
There once was a Taoist man, named Saiweng, who lost his horse. While his neighbors thought it a great misfortune, Saiweng’s father said “I don’t know.” Later, the horse returned with a herd of the finest wild horses. The neighbors called this a blessing, but Saiweng’s father said “I don’t know.” One day, Saiweng decided to ride one of the new horses, but he fell off and broke his leg. The neighbors declared this tragic, and Saiweng’s father still said, yet again, “I don’t know.” Later, their region declared war, because of the invasion of barbarian tribes. While all able-bodied men had to take up arms and fight, Saiweng, with his crippled leg, could stay at home.
Has your China guanxi (or contacts) ever surprised you? A new contact of mine set up a job interview in China like nothing I'd ever known.
In China, when you need to find a job, there’s no better way than through your guanxi, or relationships.
I spent hours calling my friends and contacts, announcing my jobless status, and asking them to look for leads. Even John consulted his own friends. But when you end the call, send that e-mail, or finish that text message, the rest depends on someone else — no matter how desperately you want results. And sometimes, the results you want aren’t the results you get.
I met David Dong in the gym, the week after I’d returned to Hangzhou, and mentioned, in passing, I was looking for a new job. While Dong, a CEO of a small company, offered his assistance enthusiastically, in near-native English, I didn’t expect much from a new contact.
Days later, my newly minted guanxi surprised me by calling in the morning with an opportunity. “My old classmate owns a foreign trade company, and he is interested in meeting you. Would you have time?” Continue reading “Chapter 51: My Guanxi, My Interview Nightmare”
What keeps you abroad when life falls apart? When I faced uncertainty after losing my job, I remembered the things that kept me grounded in China.
How do you have the gumption to stay in China?
The question — posed by Heidi, one of my high school classmates back in the US — hit me hard. John, my Chinese boyfriend, and I had just returned from spending Chinese New Year with his family, and once again I faced the stir-fried mess my life was.
I’d lost my job at the Chinese Internet Company in January 2003. After some hard negotiations, I obtained a visa that would expire April 15, 2003. I had to move out of my apartment — originally provided by the company — at the end of February. And, with John in graduate school in Shanghai, I wondered if staying in Hangzhou was such a good idea.
But it’s one thing to debate cities, and another to debate countries.
Should you stay abroad with your Chinese spouse? I share with one reader our reasons for returning to China someday.
To Stay or Not asks:
I am an American woman who just married a Chinese man, and am so excited to find your site! We are planning on coming back to the US so he can go to graduate school. I know your husband is currently in school in the US, and you wrote somewhere you both plan to return to China. Could you tell me why you won’t stay in the US? I would like to know, because I sometimes wonder if staying in the US is right for us. Xie xie!Continue reading “Ask the Yangxifu: Why We Won’t Stay in the US”
Living at John's home was different than what I'd known -- from showers to even the living room. But as I pondered the excesses of American life, I wondered -- whose standard is right?
Sitting on a stool in the bathroom, with warm water in a basin poured over my body, is the closest thing I’d ever get to a shower in John’s family home.
I’d been there for two days, and soon yearned for the familiar after-shower freshness — but didn’t know how to get it. “I desperately need a shower,” I confessed to John, my Chinese boyfriend. Not long after, he escorted me to the bathroom with a large, plastic red basin, filled with warm water, and a wooden, toddler-sized homemade stool. He placed the stool on the floor, where I crouched carefully to sit after removing my clothes. He ladled the water over me to wash away shampoo and soap — a fleeting burst of warmth to counteract the near-freezing air that surrounded us, even in the bathroom. Taking a shower never seemed so risky, and impractical. Continue reading “Chapter 49: Winter Showers and Different Living Standards”
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