Learning about myself through my research

For much of my adult life, I have been a defender of people. I’m the person who steps in and speaks up when others can't or won’t. I’m not always right to do so. It’s not always productive for me to step into the caretaker role. My internal sense of justice for all gets me into trouble sometimes. It also leads me to some pretty cool discoveries about myself and the people around me.

One of my primary research interests is women. I love talking to and listening to women. It makes me happy to feel like they trust me to tell their stories. I wish more women felt comfortable telling their own stories and had a platform and the freedom to do so. In my role as a researcher, adopted mom, or friend, I listen to women talk about men. Sometimes, these are sad stories. More often, they are happy stories. Too often, they are frightening tales of relationships gone wrong. Most of the time, the woman just wants to be heard. She wants to tell her story in her way. I hide any judgmental or directive thoughts and offer support and understanding.

As I listen to women in China tell me their stories about conflict at work and home, I realize that they are often the same as those in the U.S. There are some differences in family structure and expectations, but the underlying experiences and feelings are very similar. My feelings about their stories are the same as for women in the U.S. However, I experienced a moment of self-discovery as I conducted research interviews last week with Chinese women.

Many of the people who know me are familiar with—and probably tired of—my frequently voiced disdain for authority. Last week, a young woman talked to me about making decisions and then telling, rather than asking, her family about those decisions and rarely talking to her father because "he didn't do enough listening" when she was young. In that moment, I realized that my objections to authority aren’t actually a disdain for authority; they are a general dislike and distrust of men in those positions. I’m comfortable if the man doesn’t behave like a prototypical alpha, but rebel instantly if I witness chest-puffing, blustery superiority. This is well-documented in my choices of male friends throughout my adult life.

This was quite the revelation for me. I had always assumed that I just don’t like to be told what to do. Since I was a small child, I have been reminded that I’m stubborn and too sensitive to criticism. Well, no, although those things are likely true, that’s not the root of my problem. In fact, I perform remarkably well under the tutelage or supervision of a strong woman who makes space for other women or a man who does the same. I am not a man-hater. I am a person who really does believe in justice and opportunity for all and gets really cranky when a powerful person—still too often a man—rests on awarded or inherent power without working to make space for others.

As I wrestle with the final year of my doctoral studies, this improved understanding of my strong need to stand up for others and to challenge authority will make me think a little more clearly about my goals. Am I really making things better or am I just being obstinate? It won’t stop me from speaking out. In fact, I’ll likely speak up more, but my objections will be more focused. Regardless of changes in the way I handle authority, this revelation will change my research. Understanding myself improves my understanding of others. Women of the world, I’m here for you.

Carrefour

Groceries are a big deal for me. Many of my happiest moments as an adult involve cooking, serving, and consuming food and drinks with the people I love. Like a lot of people who grew up without a lot of money, I have some serious food issues that center on the way I think about food and the cost of food. These two things together make buying food and having enough money to buy it a source of both happiness and worry. Regardless of my worries, though, grocery stores are a happy place for me.

Because grocery stores are a happy place, and I feel out of place in Beijing, many of my outings involve grocery stores. Over the weekend, I visited Carrefour. Online, it is described as a “mega supermarket.” That title is earned and apt. The location I visited was directly across a street from the subway station. Perfect! Carrefour occupies the second and third floors of an enormous shopping complex with small stores on the bottom floor. I rode the flat, but inclined, moving walkway up to the second floor of the building and immediately marveled at the sights and sounds of Carrefour.

In front of me were pallets of goods from various departments that were on “special sale.” After walking through palletland, I found an impressively large electronics department. To my right was a woman hawking some sort of vacuum cleaner. She was demonstrating its performance using beads that she repeatedly dumped on the ground. The beads scattered farther than intended, and children gleefully chased them.

As I continued through the store, I spied a very bored looking salesman in the aisle with the pots and pans. He was looking at his cell phone while glancing into the throng of shoppers occasionally. Just a few feet away were three women aggressively (one of them grabbed my coat sleeve and jammed a bottle of Downy under my nose) touting the benefits of the various laundry aids on the nearest shelves. The store seemed to hold every item of clothing and housewares that any modern family could need. I reached the end of that floor and found myself in the “beauty” aids. I picked up some sunscreen and used my phone app to translate the bottle. Bummer. It, like many skincare items, contained a skin lightening agent. Not on my list of skin care items and certainly not FDA approved.

I found the moving walkway to the food floor and was transported to floor three. I found bread! Donuts! Dried fruit and snacks in every shape and variety. Meat including live turtles and fish. Food, food, and more food. At this point, I was pretty happy. There were yogurts of every variety and enough dried fruit and nuts to feed an actual army. After spending as much time as the noise level—very noisy with sales people behaving like carnival barkers—would allow, I found the checkout.

A man standing at the end of the checkout yelled, “Hey! What’s your name?” I told him my name and asked him the same question. He repeated his name twice for me and began to sing. I have no idea what he was singing, but then he yelled, “Hey, Amy, I love you!” I waved and silently wished all of my wishes for the cashier to finish ringing things up so that I could leave. Finally! I paid and moved to leave with my goodies. The man stopped me and asked me if I wanted a massage. No, no, and nope. It was a sales tactic. That was more comforting than if his declaration was intended in another way. He grabbed the collar of my jacket. I wriggled free, said, “I’m going this way,” and took off toward the exit. Whew! That was intense.

For me, much of making my way through Beijing as a foreigner is about experience. As I have new experiences, I know how to behave in the future. I will visit Carrefour again. My love of a good grocery store is a strong motivator. However, next time, I’ll be aware of the sales tactics and will be ready for them. I’m living and learning as I wander through Beijing.

My first Taobao order and a subway creeper

This weekend, I spent time exploring new places and riding public transportation to new destinations. I’ll write here about two things that stick out from the weekend and, I think, are important to understanding current Chinese culture: online shopping and dirty old men.

Taobao is a massive Amazon-like website that is central to Chinese material consumption. Although in-person shopping is still necessary and popular, for younger people, Taobao is their first choice.

My first Taobao order cost $4.53. I ordered a glass and black plastic teapot for use with loose leaf tea and six matching teacups. Placing the order took about 45 minutes, but only because I had to use an app to translate 23 screenshots as I entered my shipping address. I requested the address from an international student who has been here for a year and is well-versed in all things foreigner-in-Beijing. My first mistake was removing the parts of the translated address that seemed redundant or didn’t make sense. Really? What was I thinking? Because I had to tinker, it shipped to the wrong address.

Fortunately, the customer service person contacted me to confirm the address. After many messages back and forth and a good workout for my translation app, I was able to update the address. Today, I received a text message that my package had arrived. Hooray! But, after translating the text, all I could understand is that I could pick it up until 7pm and it was at the west gate of campus. Phone in hand, I hustled to the lobby and showed the text to the desk clerk. She pointed a direction, spoke to me in Mandarin, and smiled. I thanked her, walked out the door, and headed that direction.

After finding the west gate, I realized it was the wrong place. I showed a stranger the text, and she walked me across the road to a shop. I showed someone in the shop the text, and he walked me to the next shop. Ta-da! That’s where it was. It’s lovely. I rushed straight back to my apartment, washed everything in boiling water, and am waiting for it to dry. Although circuitous, I’ll count that as a success. Earlier in the day, however, I was not so lucky.

I decided to go souvenir hunting. Looking up supermarkets in my area led me to what Google called a “megastore” that I could access by riding the closest subway line with no transfers. Off I went. All was good until the subway ride home. I ended up standing next to an older man who was talking VERY loudly into his cell phone. That was annoying, but when he hung up, things kicked up a notch. He tried talking to me. When a young woman standing nearby realized that I couldn’t understand anything he was saying, she started translating for me. He asked where I was from. Fine. He asked if I was married. Fine. He asked how long I was in Beijing. Fine. He asked if I had children. Fine. He asked what I was doing in Beijing. Fine.

That’s when it stopped being fine. The young woman suddenly stopped translating and looked around in horror. Several people nearby turned and stared. The older man laughed, so I laughed. I was nervous and uncomfortable. He said something else. More people turned to look. At this point, I started looking around and smiling. He handed me his business card and asked me for my phone number. I said no. He asked me for my WeChat code. I said no. 

As I prepared to depart the subway, the young woman who had been translating tapped me on the shoulder said, “It’s your eyes. They are so beautiful. He shouldn’t be saying those things.” I still don’t have any idea what he said to or about me, but it was likely sexual or derogatory. She was wonderfully kind to speak up and say something nice to me.

Because I’m all about learning stuff, I took some time to think about my reaction. I could have moved away or translated something like “please leave me alone” and shown it to him on my phone. Instead, I laughed and smiled nervously. I didn’t want to humiliate him, no matter how rude he was being to me. In part, that was because I wasn’t completely certain at the time that he was being rude. However, in hindsight, I’m questioning my commitment to being nice or conciliatory over protecting myself. Next time something like that happens, my goal is to move or speak up rather than smiling.

Today was a pretty good day. I have a swanky new tea set, I discovered that most people are incredibly helpful if you look lost and ask for help, and I learned something about myself. There’s a quote lurking out there on the internet about learning about yourself through travel. I’m too tired to look it up, but it feels pretty accurate today. 

An invitation from a new friend

In my previous post, I wrote about homesickness. My way of overcoming a longing for another place and people is involving myself with the place I’m in and the people I’m around. There’s an old song about that—something about loving the one you’re with. It applies here, but not in the way the song originally intended.

Exploring is one of my favorite things to do. I love it. Seeing new things, meeting new people, and learning about everything around me is my happy place. In the U.S., I go new places frequently and don’t really give it a lot of thought. In China, I’m much more hesitant. This afternoon, I followed a known routine. I took the subway to a familiar place, bought groceries, and returned to campus. While I was out, though, a wonderful thing happened. One of the international students, Jamal from Pakistan, invited me to go to the night market with him. I was thrilled!

Jamal is a 25-year-old graduate student from a small town in northern Pakistan. He is the youngest of seven children and is avoiding adult responsibilities by going to graduate school in China. I learned so much tonight! We talked about media representations of Pakistan and travel within the country. He educated me about his practice of the Muslim faith and arranged marriage. He talked about his mother, niece, and nephew. I told him about my husband and children. We laughed and told stories about being foreigners and agreed that living in China was an awesome opportunity that had to be seized when it was available.

The market was super cool but learning about a new person in a new place was even cooler. It was incredibly kind of Jamal to invite me on an adventure. I so appreciate the invitation and enjoyed every minute learning about my new friend.

Back in the classroom and homesick

It’s still exciting to be in Beijing, but the homesickness has hit. I knew it set in when I started craving very American food and marking off days on the calendar. Yes-I have a countdown to my flight home. It’s part of the process and will subside soon. In the meantime, social media apps and FaceTime are keeping me connected to the people and places I miss. Also, there are some really cool things happening in Beijing.

Part of my fellowship agreement is to give four public lectures in Beijing. Because I don’t necessarily listen to instructions and love teaching, my public lectures have developed into a group research project. It will be amazing! I’m so excited to work with young adults from around the globe on research that can be developed by each of them for individual projects later in their studies. It’s such a cool opportunity. I may have discovered my true teaching passion. Teaching research methods is pretty much my favorite classroom experience EVER.

In addition to the lectures, I’m also participating in a filmed documentary, an upcoming documentary conference, and taking field trips with a group of international students. (I have always been a field trip fan.) This week, we visited one of the last ghost markets in Beijing. A ghost market is like a flea market, but it doesn’t start until nearly midnight and closes by dawn the following morning. It was crowded, dirty, full of bargaining and negotiating, and fascinating. I had at least 10 ideas for research projects that could be done in the market. We were yelled at and chased away by a man who had preserved tiger feet for sale. It was marvelous. And, as a bonus, we ate “dirty food.” Dirty food is the literal translation for unhealthy food sold by street vendors. Delicious!

To get through this bout of homesickness, I’ll continue to make friends and create adventures. Although sitting in my apartment and watching Netflix is tempting, I can do that anywhere, and there’s a big city full of new experiences waiting for me outside. 

He played his violin for me during today's FaceTime chat.

Telling me all about the items he wants from the book order at school.

Always ask "What time?"

I stayed up too late last night. It was nearly 1am before I went to bed. Then, I had trouble sleeping. One of my last thoughts before finally drifting off to sleep is that I didn’t know what time “morning” meant in the last message I received about a trip to the art museum the next day. Asking the simple question “what time” would have made my transition to daytime a little better this morning.

At 9:10am, I rolled over and picked up my phone to check the time. I had two WeChat messages. One at 8:48am read, “Let’s leave at 9am” and another at 9:03am that read, “We’re in the lobby. Are you coming down soon?” EEEEEEEEK! There were two people waiting in the lobby for me, and I just rolled out of bed. Oh, dear.

After deciding that I needed deodorant but could pass on clean underwear, I put on clothes, brushed my teeth, pulled my hair back into a ponytail, jammed my feet into my shoes, and rushed downstairs to emerge from the elevator with apologies streaming. Surprise! There were seven people in the lobby, all waiting for me, three of them bearing video cameras. Oh, boy. So, there I was, dirty, rushing, and looking like someone who just woke up facing a full day of traipsing around Beijing with video cameras trained on my every move.

The short version is that I made it through the next nine hours with the video cameras and the subway and the bus and had a wonderful time. No one noticed or cared that I didn’t look (or smell) my best. We have plans to go to the Beijing Ghost Market on Tuesday at midnight. For this next adventure, I’ll be wearing clean underwear and ready to go on time.

Privacy and self preservation

Beijing is home to the second largest population of any city in the world. Another Chinese city, Shanghai, occupies the top spot on that list. In part, the sheer number of people influences the way people view privacy and space allowed for others. Last week, as I traveled within Beijing and visited businesses and government institutions, I observed people and their behavior. This led me to think about the idea of privacy contrasted with the reality of privacy. In the U.S., we think of having a “right to privacy.” In China, this exists in ways that don’t really align with the restrictions imposed by the government. It’s an interesting paradox.

Because my Mandarin is severely deficient, my observation skills are in high alert status as I move through the city. Generally, I’m communicating through nonverbal cues and am hyper-vigilant about noticing them. Part of my travels this week involved visiting a government operated bank to open an account. While at the bank, I noticed that private information was communicated largely through the completion of various forms which were then distributed to the people assisting the customer who belonged with the forms. People were assigned numbers and directed to wait in chairs available in the lobby. As numbers were called, I noted a coding system of some sort. People with this type of question were assigned one series of numbers, those with another type were assigned a different series. When it was my turn, I visited with a person at a window remarkably more secure than any bank I’ve visited in the U.S. This was accomplished through the use of dividers and other security-focused devices. When it was time to complete paperwork functions or to choose a password for my account, all of this was done on a pin pad which was shielded in multiple ways. In fact, the contraptions around the pin pad made it nearly impossible for me to use with my larger-than-your-average-Chinese-person hands. Later, when visiting an ATM machine, I noted the same type of set up on the machines.

In a city and a country where citizens and visitors know to expect almost no privacy, these gestures aimed at privacy made no sense to me. The Chinese government is savvy in meeting just enough requirements to continue business with foreign countries and foreigners. So, I wondered if these privacy functions in the financial sector are intended to meet the requirements of foreign entities. It would be unusual to offer these types of protections to individual citizens.

Contrasting, and perhaps complimenting, this apparent concern for the privacy of financial information, individuals are presented as nearly interchangeable. The infamous ID cards required to come and go on campus are handed around to be used by whoever needs them. Rather than arranging for me to have my own card, it was suggested that I simply borrow a Chinese student’s card. As I watched people on the subway, I noticed that they are all carefully encased in themselves. They push and shove to enter the train car and find a seat. This is done without regard for anything except the goal of finding a seat or a preferred standing spot. It is the disregard for all but the self that strikes me about this. I will not apply a label to the behavior from my own cultural background, but instead marvel at the sense of self preservation that these actions seem to require. To me, the behavior seems at odds with the general understanding that people in Beijing, and perhaps the entire country, are identical pegs in a game board that can be swapped out whenever and wherever.  

The citizens of Beijing are not interchangeable. Although I’m viewing all of this through my lifetime as a U.S. citizen, it seems to me that attempts at self preservation are a way to gain privacy and to have a unique sense of self. I wonder if this is a change brought on by globalization or if this is part of our basic humanity. In the U.S., we view privacy as a right. I wonder if humans need it to survive.

You are an expert to someone

This afternoon, I met with a group of about 15 international students. They are from Ghana, Lithuania, Sweden, Afghanistan, Kenya, Pakistan, Tajikistan, Dominican Republic, Mali, and others. We will work together on a research project throughout the time I'm in Beijing. It will be driven by the students, most of them first or second semester Masters students, and guided by me. I'm so excited for this opportunity. It's so thrilling to be trusted with facilitating what, for many of them, will be their first research project.

After the class meeting, I talked briefly with a young man I mentioned in my previous post, my new friend Bill. He thanked me for the lecture and told me that it was very interesting. I responded that I hope it was helpful information and said, "I'm not an expert, but I have used these methods several times." Bill looked at me and said, very sincerely, "Professor Amy, you are an expert to us. We want to listen to you." I am certain that I turned shades of scarlet and thanked him profusely.

Thinking about this experience later, I thought about all the people I view as experts and what their information sharing and advice means to me. That's a powerful position--Expert. As I worked through memories of the teachers, friends, and family who I look up to, it hit me that each one of us is an expert to someone. Today, someone is looking up to you. You are the expert.

Cat on the third floor of my building. Community cat is a good kind of cat.

Language and understanding

Everyone has some talent or skill or ability or knowledge which distinguishes them. Every one of us has something that we do well. We do that thing or have knowledge that makes us good at a task or a job or just being a person in the world. I love people. Like, really love people. My thing/skill/ability/whatever is a need to know about people. I want to listen to them and let them be who they are while I learn about them and their experiences. This doesn’t mean that I am as accepting or welcoming as I could be. That is another skill. One that I’m working on, but it is definitely a work in progress. However, I am infinitely curious about people and what makes them tick in their environment and within their chosen context. Yesterday, during a meeting and lunch, I had the opportunity to meet three new people and to learn about them. It was awesome!

First, I met a cameraman who works for the university. He was raised in Beijing but considers another place his home because it is where his family originated. Shy and polite, he was nervous about talking with in English. I assured him that his English was far superior to my Mandarin and we began a conversation. He is recently married and, based on his reaction when his wife was mentioned, very happy with that development. Before he came to work at the university, he worked professionally filming “propaganda.” That was his word. Propaganda. This is where my counterpart, Professor Li, jumped in. He explained that the cameraman actually filmed advertisements and commercials. Professor Li knew that my idea of “propaganda” was different than the cameraman’s. Astute and fascinating.

Next, a young woman breezed into the room wearing a big smile and obviously frustrated by something. She spoke to Professor Li in Mandarin and he gave her his ID card. I understood that she had been stopped by the police and wanted to borrow his card. Later, I found out that she had indeed been stopped and wanted to use his card to access the on-campus library. She is an editor for the Chinese equivalent of the Associated Press. We talked about her work and we shared our experiences coming and going from campus. She laughed easily as we chatted and was confident and seemed happy. As our conversation progressed to the topic of my research, I asked if she felt pressure to marry and have a child. She said “yes,” but then elaborated by saying, “I don’t see getting married any time in the near future.” I asked her if she was enjoying working and living on her own. Again, she said “yes,” and went on to say, “I’m just not ready to have a baby.” Also fascinating. Her stated objection to marriage was actually objection to having a child.

Finally, an undergraduate student who introduced himself to me as “Bill” came bustling into the room. The young woman immediately engaged him in a conversation in Mandarin. I gathered that it was about his Beatles-style jacket and his long hair in a ponytail. Outgoing and exuberant, he began conversing with me in English and with Professor Li in Mandarin. He will help me with my research. I am delighted by this. Maintaining his focus will be my only challenge. He is very interested in my research topic, so I don’t anticipate great difficulties.

All three of these new friends are wonderful. They seemed genuinely happy to make my acquaintance, as I was theirs. One thing struck me as we talked, though. No matter who I meet here in Beijing, I am consistently impressed with the language skills and the brain power behind both the code switching and use of language in these conversations. It seems as though people who learn to speak multiple languages with any proficiency possess an increased understanding of the world and the people in it. They can interact in ways that I cannot. This is just one of their talents/skills/abilities. I am envious. Each meeting strengthens my resolve to learn more and to make sure that my own children understand the value in learning languages. After all, the more I know about language and context, the more I can use my curiosity about people and their experiences.

Accommodating Difference

Being fat is something that I confront personally nearly every day of my life. It has been part of my life directly since I was nine years old and before that through the words of my family members regarding their own bodies or those of friends, family, or even complete strangers. In the U.S., it is not something that confronts me on a daily basis, except through my own thoughts. In China, however, my size is an absolute anomaly. Combine my height, weight, and my apparent foreignness, and I am fodder for endless discussion and curiosity. Some people are just curious. Others laugh and point. I thought I was prepared to manage my feelings about my size and others’ reactions to me. I was absolutely wrong.

Yesterday, I gave myself a day off from school. I didn’t work on any papers. I didn’t do any academic reading. In the morning, I did laundry and took a walk to take a few photos. After lunch, I walked to the grocery store and visited the lady who manages the fresh fruit department. She always smiles and patiently helps me bag and price my fruit and vegetable selections. Her understanding is a welcome respite from the rolling eyes and deep sighs of the cashiers as they realize that I don’t understand their questions.

As I walked out of the store, I felt like someone was following me. I turned and saw a young man behind me with his arms and legs splayed wide like he was clutching a giant, invisible ball, cheeks puffed out, and stomping like a fake Sumo wrestler. It was a little like Madea, the Beijing version but without a costume budget. When I turned, he spit the air out of his mouth, doubled over, and laughed as he turned toward the group of young people standing behind him. Some of them crowed in return and a few looked at the ground like children caught doing something forbidden.

I hurried back to my apartment, locked the door, and gave myself a few minutes to think about what happened. I was angry and hurt. I wondered if the young man would have behaved that way if I was a man. The experience brought forth a flood of adolescent memories and emotions. I let them run through me while I closed my eyes and relived the scene. After a short time, I opened my eyes, put away my groceries, and decided that a little Netflix therapy was in order.

The rest of the day, I watched American television and drank good tea. This isn’t the first and won’t be the last time that something like that happens. I’m steeling myself to manage my emotions and concentrate on the people who are curious rather than laughing and pointing. As in any other country of the world, there are varied levels of respect and accommodation afforded to people who are different. I can learn about my own behavior from the way I was treated by that group of young people. I’m asking myself how I can be more welcoming of difference. It’s an important reflection.  

Some days, you need to remember that people love you and those who don't may not be worth your thoughts.

Creating routine from uncertainty--or maybe not

When one of my teenagers was younger, she asked, “Mom, why are you more fun than dad?” I thought for a moment and replied, “Honey, one of us has to provide stability. If you lived with just me, we might live under a bridge sometimes. It takes both of us to make our family life work. It’s all about balance.” I’m not sure the child understood what I meant, but she thought about it for a moment and didn’t ask any more questions. I still have questions, though.

Since August 2017, I have lived on my own for much of the calendar year. Like my child, I had questions about why stability was sometimes accompanied by grumpy. I was not a person who lived life on a schedule or a routine. Life was my adventure, not something to be scheduled in my phone or on a calendar somewhere. But then, I realized that an absence of routine left me feeling lost and aimless. Routine was part of my life with my family, even though the schedule was created by family life rather than by my own initiative. So, like I tend to do with all things, I made an immediate decision to create a schedule for my academic life and my personal life. And, with a few bumps, it worked. I was academically productive and personally okay.

Moving to Beijing for three months has required me to renegotiate my schedules and return to being more flexible. Things take longer here. I arrived without language skills, so my interactions are extended and fraught with uncertainty. Social expectations are different. I went to lunch yesterday with fellow professionals. In the U.S., because it was lunch and we are not well acquainted, this would generally last about an hour. Instead, we sat together eating and chatting for nearly three hours. It was very enjoyable, but definitely not what I had in my planner.

I am learning to carve out time for academic work and how to set boundaries in an unfamiliar social environment. It is a new opportunity to return to my less rigid roots and possibly to flounder for a few weeks while I adjust. Although I bristled at first and wondered how I was going to accomplish my goals without being able to plan my minutes and hours, I have decided to relax and figure that out as I go along. As I’m fond of saying to my friends in Hattiesburg, “It’s fine. It will be okay.”

I TOOK THE SUBWAY ALL BY MYSELF (all caps definitely in order)

I didn’t begin the day intending to get on the subway. In fact, I walked to a supermarket that I found on Apple maps, and that’s when I met my first police officer of the day. As I wandered into what looked like a neighborhood with apartment buildings and shops, a police officer stopped me and spoke what seemed like rapid Mandarin. Even though I couldn’t understand his words, I got his meaning. I was someplace I wasn’t supposed to be. He stopped a young woman passing by and asked for her help. She explained that the area I was in didn’t have a large supermarket, but she would show me to the small one or direct me to the subway. Eeeeeek! The subway! Argh! I took her directions, had a pleasant conversation with the police officer using as much English as he could remember and my very limited Mandarin, and thanked them both. Off to the subway I went.

After all of my worrying, I discovered that the area of town I’m in is at the end of two lines. This means the subway cars are not crowded because I board after most people have made their departures. I was able to get to a Walmart and a Starbucks with only one transfer and without being sandwiched into subway cars with too many personal space deficient people. As a bonus, the round trip fare was about $1.10 USD. I have all kinds of questions about why the U.S. doesn’t have high speed train travel. It would be so awesome.

Because I braved the subway, I was able to buy groceries to take me through more than a day or two. I now have instant oatmeal, plain noodles, and rice to last a couple of weeks. Before I found Walmart, I got lost in two malls. One of them was 10 stories high! Around every corner were luxury, name brand items for sale with a bored looking shop person in each brand’s space. I wondered, as I often do in U.S. shopping centers, who actually buys the stuff in those places and, if no one is buying, how do they stay open? That’s a mystery for someone else to solve. My mystery of the day was how to get back on campus with no university-issued ID card.

That’s right! After saying c’est la vie about the ID card a few days ago and relinquishing my desire to have that security, I was being asked to produce an ID card in order to re-enter campus. Oh, boy. After I told the young police officer that I didn’t have a card, he motioned for me to go speak with the older officer nearby. As I approached him, the older man marched over to the young officer and spoke in Mandarin with a raised voice and tense arms and shoulders. The young officer looked at the ground and didn’t speak. Again, even though I couldn’t understand the words, the meaning was evident. The young man thought he was doing his job, but he was in trouble for sending me to the older officer. I quickly typed, “I am visiting faculty” into my translation app, showed it to the older man, and he waved me through. I was embarrassed for the young man. That wasn’t a happy experience for any of us.

I’m learning that, although the U.S. and China are certainly vastly different in many ways, individually we appear to share more as humans that we believe is possible. Shame is shame, bosses can be unreasonable, and consumerism is real no matter where you live.  

When I tried to use the Starbucks app to find a location, it told me that I'm 6483 miles from a location in Omaha, but they could make my drink in 4-9 minutes.

Finding my Chinese normal

Day five was full of great experiences. I co-taught an undergraduate research methods course, greeted a very enthusiastic older gentleman on a bicycle, and took a little time to revel in the unique appliances in my apartment. In what I count as a great victory, I finally, through sheer stubbornness and distracting myself to stay awake later, managed to stay awake all day and then sleep from 10pm to 5am. Whew! Jet lag, be gone!

The undergraduate research methods course consisted of four students with remarkable English skills. They were interactive and asked wonderful questions. I was absolutely impressed.

Chinese communication scholars are very much tied to quantitative methods primarily through administering questionnaires and then reporting the statistical analysis of the results. My Chinese counterpart is interested in expanding the students’ understanding of qualitative methods (interviewing, ethnographic studies, etc.) because it provides a broader base of research options. He mentioned that young people entering “creative fields” like video production and graphic design don’t seem interested in traditional survey research. However, he wants to increase research activity at the University and sees introduction of new methods as a way to do that. I am extremely honored that he found me worthy of sharing my work with his students.

As my counterpart and I walked to the classroom, we chatted in English. He lived in the United States for two years and has visited at least one time a year over the past seven years, so he’s tolerant of my lack of Mandarin language skills. About halfway there, an older man rode by us on a bicycle and yelled, “Hello!” as he zoomed by. I turned and yelled, “Hello!” in return and I could hear him laughing with delight as he continued on his way. I love people. Like, I really enjoy them. That’s my favorite part of traveling and exploring new places. And, it’s especially fun to see someone excited to see me.

My apartment, as people noted on social media, is very nice. It’s full of unexpected delights. I took some photos to share here. For your viewing pleasure, I offer a scale in the living room, the outlets for which I did not prepare, a fancy combination washer/dryer, and my new favorite thing, a sort of portable electric burner that cooks things faster than you can turn around to wash prep dishes. I want one at home.

As always, thanks for reading about my adventures on day five. Things are settling down and I’m beginning work on research and academic writing. It feels good to find my Chinese normal.

Day Four Rocked

Today’s entry is short. What you really need to know is that I now have reliable internet access including my very own Chinese phone number, I bought groceries, and I learned that I do not need an ID to come and go from campus.

My friend Deng Wei (pronounced like don--with a silent ‘n’--way) walked me to the local cell phone store and helped me buy a Chinese SIM card for my phone. I paid about $15USD for the card and unlimited everything for a month. As with most things in Beijing, we waited in line for about 45 minutes to accomplish the purchase and installation of the card. However, it was time well spent. I learned that Deng Wei is very interested in writing centers on college campuses. She worked in one during her undergraduate education and is enthusiastic about the possibilities of peer tutoring and expanding the number of writing centers available at Chinese universities. I encouraged her to come to the U.S. for her PhD. She is fluent in four languages and is super bright and kind. As Eddie Izzard once said, “How do you fit that all in one brain?”

During our conversation on the walk to the cell phone store, Deng Wei showed me the way to two local supermarkets. When I asked about needing an ID to leave campus, she told me that she might be asked for ID, but no one would ask me. I expressed disbelief and Deng Wei responded, “If the police ask you for ID, they have to talk to you in English. They don’t want to do that, so they won’t ask.” Good to know. Forget getting an ID. I’ll just waltz through the gates with my privilege flag flying.

Today was a banner day. Because a fellow human was willing to spend two hours with me, I was able to buy groceries, gain reliable internet access, and learn new things about being American in China. Friends are truly the best.

Days Two and Three

          When someone you don’t know invites you to lunch, it’s always unclear who is paying for what unless that is part of the conversation. When you arrive at the restaurant and the person who did the inviting asks you to pay for your lunch using the only payment method accepted at the restaurant, which you don’t possess, things become confusing. Add chopsticks, almost no spoken English, and no printed English to the equation and it equals chaos ending in owing lunch to your new acquaintance. At least that’s how it went for me on Day 2 of my Beijing adventure. I know now that WeChat pay is the only currency accepted in the on-campus restaurants and will work with my bank on Monday to set that up.

            Days 2 and 3 were full of new knowledge and jet lag. My sleeping schedule is a mess right now, but I’m working on turning it around. I spent a lot of time sleeping over the past two days and have developed a whopper of a cold. In a fit of packing prowess, I included Mucinex D and Benadryl in my carry on, so I’m set to battle any kind of cold and sinus junk. In spite of my sleepiness, I learned how to access the public WiFi from my apartment and that I need an ID card to enter or leave the campus.

            The WiFi issue is a real problem. I spent my first 24 hours in China without the ability to contact my family or friends to let them know I had arrived safely. However, during the previously mentioned lunch outing, my new friend signed into the University network for me so that I could send messages and buy my own access. This worked out well as I was able to buy unlimited access to a local public WiFi hotspot for $4.95 a month. This isn’t perfect, but until I’m able to set up access in my apartment, it’s a workable solution.

            In a prolonged instance of minor panic, my electronic devices died one by one as they ran out of power and I was without outlet adapters. Then, I decided to try plugging in my phone charger and risk the potential for shock or burning up the plug. Voila! It worked! How magical! Thank you, Apple for having uniform prongs on your plug ins! My laptop was another problem altogether, though. It has a grounded plug which only works with an adapter. As I was preparing to take the Beijing subway (of which I am terrified because it is incredibly crowded) to the closest Apple store, I remembered that my laptop can be plugged in without the grounded outlet. I frantically dug through my backpack and found what I needed to make it work. Tears, day 3.

            Because the on-campus food service requires WeChat pay and I don’t have access to WeChat pay until I can call my bank in Omaha, I don’t have much food. I packed two quart-sized bags of granola bars and found a lady on campus selling fruit which I could buy using cash, but those supplies are quickly running out. On day 3, I again considered braving the subway to buy groceries. As I was negotiating myself out of my subway panic, I remembered my new friend warning me repeatedly that I couldn’t come and go from campus without an ID card. I have no ID card. After contacting the person who is tasked with helping me navigate campus, I learned that I can apply for an ID card tomorrow. My fingers are crossed that I can actually hold the ID card in my hands tomorrow. So, it’s one more day of bananas, mandarins, and my last two granola bars before I can buy food. It’s a good thing I came with some extra fat stores. I feel a little like a bear in winter. I’ll be glad when spring arrives.

             Before I end my narrative of days 2 and 3, I’ll backtrack to lunch with my new friend. This new friend is responsible for arranging the Chinese part of my fellowship stay. This was to include housing and on-campus amenities like WiFi, an office, and library access. So far, housing is the only thing that is in order and even that appears to be temporary. We’re working on ironing it out, but it’s a little unnerving for a person who schedules the minutes in her day to have things not as expected and far from settled.

            The beginning of any new experience is exciting and difficult and fraught with uncertainty. My adventure in Beijing is no different, there are just a few extra layers to be managed. I have some things to look forward to in obtaining an ID card and eventually conquering the subway and some things to think about as I work through my expectations.  For now, it’s 6:01am on day 4 and I’m off to take another nap.

Getting There

One of my former classmates has an acronym that he uses to describe about China’s inexplicable inconveniences in the country of 1.3 billion people: GYSTC. This stands for Get Your Shit Together China. I generally counter this with a message of visitor responsibility and, “Ah, but cultural differences and blah, blah, blah.” Which, I continue to argue, is the point of travel—especially the blah, blah, blah because you never know what you will discover—and opens my mind to, as my wise and intelligent grandmother advocated, “understanding how other people live.” However, I must, in good humor and with the knowledge that getting someplace is often the hardest part, share my arrival story with anyone willing to read about the flight, landing, journey to my apartment, and the apartment itself.

The flight from Omaha to Seattle was relatively uneventful. My adventures began on my flight from Seattle to Beijing. Instead of choosing to fly the awesome, convenient, and delightful Korean Air, I purchased the budget option and flew with Hainan Airlines. Reviews were positive online, and I felt confident in my purchase supporting my future host country by using a Chinese airline. As it turns out, you can’t believe everything you read online, and my in-flight experience was, well, a low-budget experience.

I am a big person, and I often pay to upgrade my seats for more leg room or bigger seats. Unfortunately for me, the extra legroom space, for which I paid $88.75 each way, is where mothers with small children can use a complimentary upgrade and have access to a bassinet that screws into the wall of the airplane, thus removing all that extra leg room. Despite my irritation about losing my space, I found that the mother seated next to me was delightful. Her baby was adorable. Her twin three-year olds, mother, and mother-in-law were lovable, sweet, and practically in my lap every five minutes after the first two hours of the flight. Her husband apologized to me multiple times but was highly incapable of managing the movements of any of his family members despite repeated attempts. At just over 10 hours, it was a mercifully short international flight, and the flight attendants’ uniforms were beautiful.

On landing, we parked on the tarmac in an area that appeared to be marked for cargo planes and private jets. We were shuttled down a precariously slanted cattle shoot from the plane onto the tarmac and herded toward a waiting bus. Approximately 15 people were allowed onto the waiting bus before guards instructed the rest of us to wait. Another bus arrived shortly after and quickly exceeded its posted passenger limit of 127 people. Silently, I told myself that it’s great practice for the terrifyingly crowded, but always interesting, Beijing subway.

The bus headed toward a passenger terminal but our progress was quickly halted by a jet firing its engines directly into our path. After nearly 20 minutes of sitting just out of reach while being blasted by jet fuel, the bus finally continued its journey toward the terminal. I departed the bus and moved up multiple escalators while being thankful for signage in English. (I really must work on my Mandarin.) After a few frustrating minutes with the unattended fingerprinting terminals, I successfully submitted by passport information and fingerprints to the government and moved to immigration to present my passport, give my fingerprints, and be grunted at by an officer of the same government. That complete, I waited for my luggage and talked with a software engineer traveling from Seattle to Beijing to visit her parents and her childhood home. She was excited to be home and very kind. This was the bright spot I needed to make it through immigration, currency exchange, and connecting with the Deng Wei, a student at the Communication University of China, who generously gave her time to meet me at the airport and guide me to the campus and my apartment.  

After locating Deng Wei, she assessed my two suitcases and backpack and proclaimed, “I think we should take a taxi. The subway isn’t a good idea with this much luggage.” I heartily agreed, and she ordered the Chinese version of an Uber on her phone. The driver was already outside and gave us a warm greeting and rolled one of my suitcases to his car. His good mood only lasted until we were repeatedly stuck in Beijing’s notorious traffic. The ride from the airport took nearly an hour, and I was carsick by the time we arrived at a drop off spot near my apartment building. The carsickness was my fault. I should have asked to sit in the front seat, but I had forgotten what driving in Beijing is like. I wouldn’t want to do it myself, so I was happy for the grumpy driver who raised his price to $106 RMB, about $16 USD, after we departed the vehicle. I paid it and thanked him for the ride.

Deng Wei patiently ushered me through checking into the front desk of the on-campus apartment building and accompanied me to my apartment. She showed me how the lights worked and checked on my wifi connection. No wifi. We returned to the front desk and were told, “There is no free wifi. You have to arrange for it and pay for it on your own.” In the U.S., I would simply use my data plan until this could be arranged. In China, my cell phone is as good as a brick without wifi or a Chinese SIM card. Possessing neither and with exhaustion creeping in, I declined Deng Wei’s kind offer to take me to the supermarket and began unpacking.

After a full day of travel and having last slept nearly 22 hours prior, I wanted nothing more than a shower, a vigorous teeth brushing, and sleep. After arranging my things in the apartment, I turned on the water in the bathroom sink. It ran for a moment and then began spitting foul-smelling brown sludge from the faucet. The stuff was splashing all over, so I shut it off and thought, not very clearly, about what to do next. I tried the faucet in the kitchen. It was working. So, I returned to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The results were the same as the bathroom sink. Again, I’m not thinking too clearly by this time. In my mind, my choices were to get dressed and return to the front desk to communicate my problem via charades or just go to bed. I paced around for a moment, produced my first tears of the trip, and decided to let the faucet and shower run for a few minutes. Aha! Problem solved! The water gradually gained the appearance that it was usable, and I cleaned the dark brown sludge off of the surfaces in the bathroom.

With the shower working, I just needed a towel to complete the evening’s festivities. Alas, in my packing and repacking, I left my towel at home. After locating a clean t-shirt to use as a towel, I was able to wash off the travel dirt and felt human. Being human again, I realized that I was really, really thirsty. I considered the safety of the water and finally boiled enough to brush my teeth and drank just enough so that my mouth wasn’t crackling dry. While I waited for the water to boil, I inspected the outlets and remembered that I also forgot to buy plug adapters. All of these things are easily purchased in the next few days. Adapters, towels, and bottled water are now the top items on my to buy list.

Finally, after showering, brushing my teeth, eating a granola bar, and making one last desperate attempt at connecting to wifi, I collapsed onto the hardest mattress in existence and slept soundly for six hours. It is after than rejuvenating sleep that I am writing this arrival story about air travel, ground transportation, and checking in to an unfamiliar place.

Although my getting here narrative is full of twists and turns, laughter and tears, I am happy to be in Beijing. Every day until May 20 will be a grand adventure. I will learn much about myself and the people around me. Hooray for the spirit of adventure!

Epilogue:

Notes from after my second nap. I successfully made espresso on the stovetop. There is a beautiful bird nesting outside my bedroom window. The apartment building is blissfully quiet. The bathroom includes a western-style toilet IN the shower. It’s the ultimate bidet! I am still happy and grateful to be here.