>I got to the airport, little sleep in my 23 hour journey. I stalked about to my luggage, a hungover coma patient birthed from a drowsy womb, and through dreary lenses I see my name on a small slip of paper, the other American and two Chinese girls to pick me up.
They led us to a van whose driver helped us with ours bags. We all jumped in.
Humid heat everywhere. Either there was no AC or it simply doesn’t exist. No cold air in the car, just the wind when we moved, and as the van pulled from the parking lot and approached the exit, I noticed three cars moving toward it as well, and pedestrians jerking about in aimless motions, and it was here that I first met Chinese Driving.
He did not stop. He did not slow. He slammed on his horn and blew past them.
I wish I could document the number of people we almost hit. Pedestrian right-of-way does not exist. Here the very real threat of being run over cures all jaywalking attempts.
I wish I could document the number of near accidents, but I can tell you about that stretch where the road lacked lanes and cars bobbed in between each other but never touched, like some choreographed vehicular dance.
I wish I could document the number of horn honks I heard. It’s a language consisting of a single-phrase, the translation depending on the context. Usually it means ‘get the hell out of my way’. Perhaps ‘move please’ if they wish to be polite, but nothing about that high-pitched thunderclap seems polite to me.
Foreign students arriving at UT hail a cab and pay the fare to campus, a ‘How’s My Driving?’ sticker providing safe passage to a dorm that they share with two or three other students. We got our hellish ride to the apartment for free, a rent-free place full of luxuries.
Such as a toilet seat.
Chinese toilets demand the squat method. While not quite the hole in the ground that you might expect, it is far from comfortable to use, and as for toilet paper on the premise, forget about it. Bring your own or improvise.
My apartment contains a Western toilet, that is, the toilet we find in North America complete with a seat. A luxury, a reward for the foreign teacher coming here to share his innate expertise.
That’s not all my apartment has. I get this rent-free, freshly renovated place full of new items. New bed, new television, new phone, new furniture, new toilet, new refrigerator, two new air conditioners, and a new computer, complete with Office 2003. Seems they hate Office 2007 too, and for good reason: it sucks. Sometimes you don’t need a real argument. A simple “it sucks” will suffice.
I live on what my foreign affairs officer called the “old” campus. Looking at the other doors, I see what she means, but nothing in my apartment meets the criteria for old. The local supermarket, appropriately named ‘Supermarket’, sells electric water machines, of the type you find at summer camp. A typical machine runs a lot of RMB. Me? I arrived to find one in the corner of the foyer, filled to the brim, near the brand-new LG Washing Machine.
After taking in my apartment, my foreign affairs officer and two other Chinese paid for a cab to take us down the street to a nice restaurant where we held out welcome dinner. They paid for our dinner as well.
I cannot guarantee similar treatment if you decide to do this, but you must understand that as a foreign teacher, your skills are valuable. Specifically, you are a Foreign Expert here in China. You are giving your expertise to the local students. Welcome aboard.
How much expertise? Today they gave the other American books and a vague schedule. He’s teaching tomorrow. Welcome aboard and godspeed.
A warm welcome softens the culture shock. Thus far, they have done just that, but it is not completey gone. Not now. Not in the future either. I have comforts both expected and unexpected. My salary is more than that of the local teachers’, and some of these things I am used to, some I am not, some I take for granted, and some I do not.
While here, it is important not to let the comforts of home make you behave as if you were at home. See anything different? See an opportunity? Then take it. Be thankful and happy, but make the most of your time abroad.
After all, it’s all you really have to work with.
Next week: teaching English and touring Wuhan.
