Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.
Mark Twain

Okay, so I spent the last month bitching about China. It is an exceptionally different country to live in compared to the near-utopian social democracies of Northern Europe that I’ve called home before it. It can be beautiful, culturally enriching and cue imagery of Buddhist temples and misty bamboo forests. It can also be a bitch, as I’ve said. Really depends on the day.

Despite what you may think after last month, which was really just therapy for me (and I think it worked), I actually like it here. Sometimes I even love it. I knew it would be difficult just by judging how hard I fell for those neat and put together Scandinavian countries. China is most certainly not that, but it is also not the monster some people make it out to be. Those people can probably spout out thirty countries they’d rather be dropped in for a year in less than thirty seconds, if they were under such a threat. They would be relieved. They would also really be missing out. Here’s why.

It’s Very Laid Back

China operates on China Time. This can be absolutely maddening if you actually need something done well and in a timely manner. For instance, our roof started leaking in three places a few months back after a freak warm day melted the snow. Our school said someone would fix it in the spring, which is still two months away. Fuck that. But, this lack of urgency creates a very laid-back atmosphere that I enjoy most of the time.

The People are Really Nice

This country gets a bad rep for scammers taking advantage of foreigners, and you will definitely see some of that if you’re not careful. This is seriously overplayed, however. I’ve found the opposite to be true. Complete strangers will actually try to tell you, “Hey, buddy, that one’s cheaper.” The people you meet here are so excited to show you all things Chinese, whether it’s how to play Mahjong, the best hotpot restaurant in town or simply the ropes around the language. The Chinese have been exceedingly patient with my glacial progress towards becoming fluent at Mandarin (hahaha!). There are probably some places back home where they’ll still kick you out if you try to speak Spanish instead of - ironically - their horrible, barely coherent bastardization of English. They just think it’s funny here and that’s about it.

I’m Rich

This may be a completely superficial and banal reason to be happy about China, but what can I say? I’m making fat stacks as an English teacher. And by fat stacks, I mean a literal envelope filled with enough of Chairman Mao’s face to live very comfortably while pocketing most of it at the end of the day. My apartment is paid for, the utilities are cheap and it’s just as inexpensive to eat out at any number of amazing restaurants as it is to cook when we actually do get tired of Chinese food. The cost of living, paired with my monthly salary (which is just as much as I made as a TA for a public school back home) puts me into the top 10% of earners in China compared to my status in the top 80% in America. You could say I upgraded. Again, not really a flowery cultural reason to love China, but not being able to spend my entire paycheck even if I wanted to certainly opens a lot of doors here.


What? Freedom? But China’s commie, right? Indeed it is, but in name only. I can do anything I wanted to do in America here in China. Well, the Great Firewall can really annoy the piss out of me sometimes, but I think that really is the only aspect of the authoritative government that reaches into my everyday life. In fact, I would say that I’m more at ease when I’m out and about. A major component to this carefree attitude is something that I would not have expected in a million years: I’m more relaxed around any cop in China than I would ever be in the US. At least in my experience, the majority of the police in North Carolina are former high school bullies (read: not very intelligent) just looking for a reason to stop you. Putting that power over you is their high. Give them automatic weapons, body armor and armored personal carriers and you’ve got a real police state in the making. For better or for worse, the police don’t do anything here. You gotta grease some palms, which isn’t the greatest phenomenon to have in your country, but then again, there’s not that much crime here, either.

Traveler’s Paradise

Flat plains, rolling hills, Siberian forests, misty mountains, snow-capped peaks, jungles full of things that can kill you, deserts to die slowly of thirst in - you can find it all here. Want to discover “Real China” and shit in a bucket for a couple of weeks? Take an hour bus ride from any major city in any direction and you will find that. Want to snort Ketamine through a rolled up 100 yuan note in the most populous city in the world? Well, that’s getting trendy in Shanghai, or so I’m told. You can find anything you want here. And if you want a challenging destination, look no further than China. The language barrier is goliath - you will need an app for that, especially if you’re venturing outside of the major cities. It’s also a hot mess, so if you’re just looking for a difficult place to deal with, then you will be enriched in that way. It’s a lot of work but the rewards are well worth it.

The Food is Amazing

Just the other day I was brainstorming for future posts (which isn’t hard to do, because China) and decided I should definitely do a cheesy but necessary “5 Favorite Dishes” for the great food here. I thought about it for a bit and realized that…that would be impossible. I would have to make it a three-part series. Jiaozi, baozi, gong bao ji ding (real Kung pao chicken), chuanr, gou bao rou - oh sweet Jesus - gou bao rou…and that mushroom thing I like. Actually there’s a lot of “that-beef-thing”-type dishes. I don’t have to know the name. They’re all wonderful, some of them are terrible for you but better than crack. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to eat American-Chinese food again. I think the only reason I’ll go to our local place when I get back is to freak out people by being a white guy in a Red state fluently ordering in Mandarin, because multiculturalism is scary there. But what if they speak Cantonese…fuck.

Love and Hate

There are days that I want nothing to do with this country. I want sit around indoors, curtains drawn of course (hides the Chinese writing and sometimes smog outside), watch How I Met Your Mother and make some tacos. Then I want to eat the tacos while thinking about Starbucks. I don’t even like Starbucks that much, but it was the first American thing I could think of. Just sitting in there, listening to their indie-holiday playlist, also mixed with jazz so they can appeared cultured, safe from the constant onslaught of stuff slightly beyond my comfort-zone.

But that’s also why I love China. Because it makes me feel that way. It’s some real sado-masochistic shit. Every day is a battle against everything that seems natural to me and when I overcome these personal obstacles, I’m winning, and that’s a step closer to thriving. I will not grow any more in a country that I’m comfortable and complacent in than I would back home in America. So I have one thing to say to China: “Bring it, bitch!”

If you spent a day in China and decided it was far too rude of a place for you, I wouldn’t blame you very much. You will be bumped into, people will pass you in line, let the door slam in your face, take the taxi you were clearly waiting for first, shove past you when getting off the bus/train, spit/piss/shit in the street, toss garbage on the ground, stare at you if you are not Chinese, and the absolute worst: stop and check their phone at the bottom/top of the escalator. That’s a lot for a Southern boy or an English lady to get used to.

One could argue that these things are common in almost any city around the world due to the sheer volume of people crammed into one place. And, moreover, manners are just social constructs that develop differently in different places anyway. My mom taught me to hold the door for people. I’m not going to hold some stranger in a city 20,000 miles away in contempt for neglecting to do that, even if it does annoy me at the time. So, no, again I don’t think Chinese people are inherently to blame for the source of my final rant this month, and anyone who is expecting the same level of politeness that they are personally accustomed to at any point on the globe is making a rookie travel mistake anyway.

But, I came here to bitch and moan despite all of these caveats and prologues. So that’s what I’m going to do.

There are No Lines

By far the most irritating. As an American, a line is just the fairest way to get mundane chores done without bashing people out of the way with a stick to get your turn. So I was initially at a loss when people just shoved in front of me at the noodle place or the grocery store. What am I supposed to do? I don’t think anyone has actually cut in front of me in the US before… So I just ignore it the first couple of times it happens. And…it’s a perfectly good strategy if you don’t mind being walked all over. So, when in Daqing, do as the Daqingers do. I’m no longer afraid to raise an outstretched arm to my side, not too different from a barrier at a railroad crossing. Welcome back to kindergarten behavior of “Hey, no fronting!” I still retain some of my former principles and will not actually pass someone myself, but I refuse to be passed. It’s weird, because I’ve gotten a few nasty looks for standing my ground. I’m not sure if that’s common or if this is one of many, many strange double standards for foreigners in China. It’s only rude if I do it.

Using a Pneumatic Drill at 5am is OK.

Don’t be loud past 10pm in China. That’s very rude. Your neighbors will tell you to be quiet. However, are you an early riser and need to knock down a wall? Go to town. Totally okay. Within our first few weeks of moving in, the downstairs neighbors decided to use a pneumatic drill between the hours of 5 and 7am every morning. Imagine if a jackhammer was able to mainline 250 dB while making love to a jet engine. Maybe a slight exaggeration, but as long as you understand that it is one of the most annoying sounds I’ve ever heard, then we’re on the same page. And because most Chinese apartment blocks are basically concrete poured over steel frames, you get to actually feel the vibrations as well (and hope like hell the guy actually knows what the fuck he’s doing and doesn’t cause your building to collapse). There are actually rules against this in most buildings; I guess ours isn’t one of them.

Public Expulsion of Bodily Fluids/Solids

There’s a fun mental game I now play with myself while walking about the frozen reaches of Heilongjiang: leftover ice or frozen spit? Bonus points for piss, raw sewage from busted pipes or vomit. Sure, everyone’s had a discrete, drunken piss under the cover of darkness behind a bush or in an alley. But facing me, even making eye-contact while draining the snake in broad daylight as children are walking home from school? Not cool, man. There’s that, and then there’s The Shit. The Shit that haunts us to this day, literally. We saw him on the street corner, squatting, probably after knocking some baijiu back in the nearby KTV. And now we see It every day on our commute, frozen in time, at least until April or May. You can’t not look at It, knowing It’s there. It has that power over us. Also, the sound of a middle-age Chinese man preparing a ball of phlegm in the back of his throat, after which he will spit on the ground, will make the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. If I forget, I’ll only need to wait seconds after exiting my building for that little cultural gem to remind that I am, in fact, still in China.

No Spacial Awareness

When I’m going about my day, I use my peripheral vision to make sure I’m not in anyone’s way. This conscious effort to not obstruct another person’s path must be a Western-only phenomenon. On any given day, you will play chicken with oncoming pedestrian traffic. They never seem to know which direction they want to go until they’re right there, then you have to do the whole which-way-you-goin dance to force a decision. You know that feeling that one person in front of you is somehow occupying an entire sidewalk? My personal bubble makes it difficult to pass if you’re slowly zig-zagging along in front of me, checking your phone. How hard is it to walk in a straight line sober? Watch out for your heels in the grocery store. I’m going to start wearing shin-guards backwards to protect them from the absent-minded bashing of shopping carts into the back of me. Don’t even make me mention standing in entrances, exits, the ends of escalators as if they were built specifically for you, specifically for that one moment you needed to use it. No one should need to tell you that more people are coming, GET OUT OF THE WAY.

Not My Problem

When it comes to who is best at passing the buck, the buck stops in China. If you plan on teaching here, listen up, because this is a huge part of Chinese office culture. Foreigner or Chinese, one’s existence here is a massive game of who has the most face. This means that if you admit that you screwed up or if there is a problem at all, especially for the foreigner you’re hosting if you happen to be a school, you lose face. The solution? Blame it on someone else, refuse to acknowledge a problem at all, and say a bunch of flowery things in hopes of appeasing the other party so that you don’t have to actually do anything. This can be soooooo frustrating, especially when my boss doesn’t realize that in my eyes, you will lose much more face if I can tell you’re not being straight up with me. Try to force an “I don’t know” or “I’m sorry, I was wrong” from your school, and watch them squirm in the process. A running refrain from a pissed off foreigner in Daqing is “I’m going to make him/her lose so much face that you won’t even recognize them anymore!”

My Theory

This is complete speculation on my part, but hear me out. China’s economic growth strategy is essentially build baby build. So much so that ghost cities planned for millions of residents can pop up seemingly overnight. How does the government fill them? Easy. They force rural populations to move there in order to create a new class of consumers, and consequentially, a new sustainable form of economic growth. The New York Times has a great series of articles on this massive forced migration.

These people have never interacted within the close quarters of a city before. It’s like expecting a bunch of farmers and their families who have lived on their plots of land for generations to become instant urbanites. Coupled with the obvious chasm between Western and Eastern culture, it’s not surprising at all that someone from the US would find the urban momentum of China to be clumsy, confusing and on some days, absolutely maddening. Somehow it all works. We still get from A to B, even if it’s a struggle every now and then.

Chinese New Year

Wow, that was cathartic. After getting all of that out of my system, you will not hear me complain again unless I can help it. Well, there is the coffee situation. Might have to write a survival guide for that one. Anyway, seemingly just in time for my Daqing cabin fever, I’ll be going to Hong Kong for about two weeks for Chinese New Year. I’m taking off from Harbin in two days after freezing my ass off one last time at the Harbin Ice Festival. When I get back, that is, after donning my 15 layers again while sobbing in the corner of the airport, I’ll be publishing a complete archive of the blog from 2011-2013 (with an excerpt from an upcoming ebook oh-mer-gosh) to Amazon! I think I’ve worked the system to where it will be free for a while, then only $0.99 after that. Stay tuned, I’ll be teasing it a lot.

If you enjoyed this rant, click here for some bitching on the driving situation in China and here for some moaning about getting stared and pointed at every day. And if you’re a Sinophile with hurt feelings, you can click here to read about how much I don’t care. Stick around…maybe, just maybe I’m writing something nice about China next week.