Going to China

I hadn’t told many people I was going to China. It wasn’t a secret I’d been deliberately keeping, it just hadn’t really come up since I got back from the ski trip. My parents knew, a few of my uncles knew, and I’d mentioned it to a handful of friends, but I just hadn’t had a chance to bring it up to that many people.

The week after I found out I was going, I did go to meet with Dr. Reardon again to make sure this would satisfy the International Experience requirement. He confirmed that it would.

“China?” he said after giving me the forms I needed for the credit.

“I’m excited,” I said. “I loved Europe but I was really hoping to go somewhere different. I think Asia is going to be completely different.”

His eyes got wide and his face got enthusiastic. “Oh you’re right about that!” he said. “I can’t say I’m a fan of Asia.”

“Really?” I asked. It seemed to me that the business school should have a great interest in China.

“Nope!” he said. “In my former job we went all over the world. Bangkok was fun but everything else…” his voice trailed off. “Japan and Singpore are too sterile, it’s annoying. Thailand was amazing but is falling apart now. And China lost all of its culture to Westernization.

“I like Europe,” he continued. “Everything is close together. You can drink beer with the Germans in the morning and have wine with the Italians in the evening. Asia is just…too big…too crowded…and really nothing special.”

Interestingly, this seemed to be a consistent theme with the few people I told. Everyone loved my Europe stories and either had their own or planned to venture across the pond someday. But most people seemed to agree with this belief that China was big, crowded, and dirty.

My Dad’s business partner, Bill, and his wife, Joan, have been to China several times, so I told my Dad I wanted to meet with them to talk about it. And as we walked between the two dragon statues, that’s where we were: meeting for traditional, Americanized Chinese food.

Bill and Joan were already at the restaurant when we arrived. As Dad and I sat down, the waiter asked us what we would like to drink. I went with tea and water. Dad got a Diet Coke.

Bill started the conversation telling me about different Chinese work visas. There are some visas that allow workers to come and go from the country. Others are one time entry visas and would mean I’d have to stay in China for the duration. I haven’t decided which I will do, but Bill cautioned me to make sure I got the right visa.

The waiter brought our drinks and asked, “Do you want to start with some appetizers?” We decided we did and ordered a few.

When he was gone, we continued. “Prague was probably fairly familiar,” Bill said. “The Czech’s spoke a different language, but it kind of made sense. And across Europe, roads looked like roads. Restaurants pretty much worked the same way. Food was pretty much the same—basically meat, vegetables, and bread. Subtle things were different, but America was founded by Europeans so a lot of life in Europe was similar to America.”

I agreed with all of that.

He continued, “China is going to be like landing on a foreign planet.”

Bill and Joan shared with me that Shanghai is considered the “little Europe” of China with a lot of German, French, and Italian influence. This is because of its location both on the Yangtze River Delta and its port access on the coast. They told me about an area called The Bund that was an international district where European settlers built banks, making it the foremost financial center of China.

“Can I take your order?” the waiter interrupted again. Bill, Dad, and I all ordered Sesame Chicken while Joan got Cashew Chicken.

“I miss European service,” I said as the waiter left. “It was so much more enjoyable to go out for a meal and enjoy the conversation over there.”

Joan laughed and I think she agreed.

"Like Europe, the service in restaurants is going to be different than here,” Bill said.

“Slower?” I asked, excitedly.

“Yes,” he said a little hesitantly, clearly indicating there was more to the story. “And restaurants will probably serve you some things that you think should be cooked a little more thoroughly to realistically be safe to eat.”

“You’ll get served some crazy stuff,” Joan said.

“Is it going to ruin Chinese food for me?” I asked. “I mean Europe ruined chocolate…and pretty much everything else I ate over there…so I assume China will ruin my favorite Asian dishes.”

“Pretty much,” Joan said, “but a lot of it is different. It’s kind of like comparing Tex-Mex to real Mexican food.”

“It’s all really good,” Bill said. “If you like something, ask the waiter to write down the name of it for you so you can order it again.”

“Do you have to pay for water in China like you do in Europe?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t drink the water in China,” Bill said. “You can go to the store and buy big jugs of it. That’s safe. But I wouldn’t drink the tap water. I take a filter with me, and you could do that too.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “I know in Europe the tap water always tasted a little metallic-y.”

“It’s not so much the metallic-y taste,” Bill said. “It’s the stuff in the water you can’t taste that will hurt you. It doesn't necessarily hurt them, but they are used to drinking it.”

“You also probably want to stay away from leafy vegetables,” Joan added.

“Now in Europe, I couldn’t find spicy to save my life,” I said. “I mean it was all unbelievably flavorful, but nothing was spicy.”

Joan smiled, “You’ll be able to find spicy in China.”

As we were talking our appetizers arrived. We enjoyed all the classics like steamed dumplings and crab cream cheese wantons. My Dad ordered a beef appetizer that came with skewers of beef and pineapple. The waiter brought out a little gas grill to toast the skewers over.

Bill began explaining to me a little of the language. Like Europe, most Chinese students start learning English in school at age 5. Presumably, most people under 30 will be able to speak some basic English.

“There was an attempt in 1956 to try an convert Mandarin Chinese to a more phonetic language called Pinyin. It’s not all of the same letters, but the spelling looks more familiar to English,” Bill explained. “That said, you’ll find that a lot of Chinese are illiterate in both Chinese and English.”

They went on to talk about taking some phrase cards with them on one of the trips (something they recommended I do) so that they could give directions to taxi drivers. “We handed the driver the card, and he handed it back,” Bill said. “He then took out his phone and called his daughter who spoke English to translate for us. He couldn’t read the card even though it was written in Chinese.”

As our main dishes arrived, we started talking about the city.

“Shanghai is going to make every city you’ve ever been in feel like a small town,” Bill said. “It is absolutely incredible.” As I’ve done some research, I found that Shanghai is actually the most populous city in the world (approximately 18 million people…compared to New York with 8 million.)

“You will have people literally this far from your face almost all the time,” Bill said holding his hand just inches from his nose.

We continued to talk, discussing the fact that lines do not exist and that a lot of shopping involves haggling for the price. Bill’s advice was to walk away if I ever didn’t agree on the price and that most merchants will chase you down and take what you offer.

“You can pretty much go to China naked,” Bill said. “I mean everything you own was made there, so you can buy it all over there, and it is all cheaper over there. Cell phones, clothes, you name it.” Although he did advise me that some "name brand products" being sold in China are not actually name brand.

Travel safety and communication was also very different. Since the internet is controlled by the government, websites like Facebook are illegal and unavailable. All international news is also censured. In order to get onto any familiar websites (including Skype) I am going to need a VPN or two. Bill also gave me a few tips I can use in place of Skype while abroad. 

“You have to make sure to go to Beijing while you are there,” Bill said.

“I want to,” I said. “And I want to see the wall.”

“You can see the Wall in Beijing,” Bill said.

“What about the Terra Cotta Warrirors?” I asked. “Where are they?”

“They are in a city called Xi-an,” Bill said. “And they are one of the dumbest tourist attractions.”

I laughed.

“They aren’t that bad,” Joan said.

“What are they?” My Dad asked.

“A farmer found a life size replica of a soldier in his field made out of terra cotta,” I explained. “They dug it up and found hundreds of soldiers, all guarding the tomb of the first emporer of China.”

“He was an unknown emporer,” Bill said, “before they found his tomb. Now what they’ve done is built this big, white dome over the dig site, and tourists file past on a little plank looking down into the site. Outside, they’ve basically turned it into a historical Disneyland with all sorts of museums, shops, displays and stuff. You can wait in line to get an autograph from the farmer…but the farmer is dead…they are on their third farmer.”

“Of course you want to go to Hong Kong too,” Bill said.

“Yes I do,” I said.

“The smog is really bad in Hong Kong,” Joan said. “It’s bad in Shanghai but worse in Hong Kong.”

“There is a famous pier,” Bill said, “where tourists all go to take pictures with the skyline of Hong Kong in the background. The smog has gotten so bad, that the Chinese government has put up a mural of the skyline on the pier so that tourists can still go there to take pictures in front of the painting.”

We laughed. “But Hong Kong is incredible,” Bill said. “There is a lot of influence from the Germans, French, the Nederlands, all of that in Shanghai, but Hong Kong—being a British protectorate for so long—has a lot of British influence.”

“But Hong Kong is it’s own country, right?” I asked.

“Mostly,” Bill said. “When the British gave it up, the plan was that it would become part of China. The Chinese government squeezes a little tighter ever year. And a lot of Chinese go to Hong Kong to have their babies, because then the children have automatic dual citizenship.”

“I am just so unbelievably excited,” I told them. “It surprises me; the professor that does all the international business was saying he wouldn’t go to China because it has lost its culture to Westernization.”

“You don’t go to China for the culture,” Bill said. “You go for the opportunity. You are going to be amazed at how the Chinese have solved problems differently. The industries they’ve created, the jobs they’ve developed…they truly are a capitalist society.”

“I thought they were a planned economy?” I said.

Bill and Joan both smiled. “If someone is planning an economy, don’t you think they understand capitalism pretty well?”

I chuckled a little. “That does make sense.”

“In Europe,” Bill said, “a lot of the stereotypes are true. In China, nothing you’ve heard before is true.”

As we boxed up our leftovers and ate our fortune cookies Bill and Joan shared a few more travel tips and stories. I couldn’t believe how excited I was. I mean finding out I’d been placed in China was awesome! Talking about it now made it real!

Driving home, it felt like I was in Europe all over again. As soon as I got in the house, I booted up my laptop and started jotting down notes from our conversation. Even the next day, it was all I could think about. When I got home that night, I was delighted to see that my new passport had come.

And then it hit me…I’m going on an adventure… again!

The Escape Plan

The two golden dragons stood guard by the doors as we rounded the corner on the building. Traffic blazed up and down the street, leading the chorus of Friday night sounds in the city. There weren’t too many people out and about. It was a chilly night, but relatively warm for this time of year. I was wearing my skinny dress slacks from Switzerland along with my black six-button pea coat. Both kept me warm enough. Both kept me feeling European too.

I still think back to the day I left Europe. Almost nine months ago, I remember standing in the gate of Frankfurt Airport. Staring blankly at the gate agent as she made the boarding call in German, my stomach sank. I looked at my boarding pass. In just eight hours, I’d be repatriated and back in my homeland. The only thought going through my mind was, “I don’t want to go back.”

I remember all the justifications I came up with. “I still have $1000…I can make it at least another month here...I’ve never had so much fun in my life, why would I give this up…I’ll go back and then I’ll transfer schools and finish over here.” But in the end, I decided to come back. I realized how scared I’d been to leave home to come to Europe, I had to face the same fear I had now and go back.

But from the time the plane took off I was scheming. As I arrived home, I was greeted by close friends and spent the first several weeks back reliving the stories over and over again. I printed my photos, I re-read my blog, and I worked a cultural comparison to Europe into every conversation. But I was scheming the whole time. I didn’t necessarily want to go back to Europe (although I would in a heartbeat) but I wanted to go somewhere. I missed feeling lost, and confused, and excited, and determined. I missed trying new foods and hoping on trains and chatting with strangers. I missed the adventure.

In the fall, I started working in the university's Study Abroad office. I wasn’t sure I wanted to study abroad again, but I started reading a lot about interning abroad. There were several different recruitment and placement agencies that the university had contacts with. Most nights, after stressing through my statistics homework, I researched options with each recruiter and kept making notes of where I might go.

At first, I thought I’d head somewhere where I could develop a foreign language. I studied Spanish in high school and I figured becoming fluent in it would be both interesting and advantageous. There was a program where I could volunteer at a day care center in the Dominican Republic in exchange for living with a host family for four weeks. When I called the provider she said, “Now the program requires a fairly good understanding of Spanish. Do you speak Spanish?”

“I have studied it,” I said, “yes.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions in Spanish?”

“Not at all,” I said, ready to show of how well I spoke Spanish.

And so she fired off a first question. I understood the words for “you,” “work,” and “number.” Everything else was completely incomprehensible.

I laughed nervously. “You know what,” I said. “I guess I don’t actually speak Spanish all that well.”

With that, I moved onto a new program.

Next I found one in Seoul, South Korea working for a travel agency. Since I already loved to travel I thought that it would be a blast to work in the industry while getting immersed in a culture (not to mention I really wanted to go see the DMZ.) I decided this program was the one and started in on the application. I was taking my time filling it out, when I realized I would have to take a semester of classes at Korea University in order to qualify for the work study program. That would set me behind a semester in graduating, so I abandoned that idea.

I looked at working in India for a while, but it was too expensive. I looked at volunteering at an orphanage in Brazil, but that program got shut down for the World Cup. I did a lot of research about the WOOFER Project and considered becoming a traveling day laborer to go work on farms in South America. I had a long list of possibilities but nothing felt just right.

And since I came home, my classes didn’t feel just right either. The discussions weren’t as interesting as they had been in Prague. Group work wasn’t as challenging as it was at VSE. Talking about American economics just didn’t feel as “real world” as talking about the political unrest in Kiev.

So I decided to make a change. My freshmen year I had gone into school declaring my degree as “a B.S. in Business Management and Entrepreneurship.” I still wanted the business degree (it still felt relevant and interesting.) I still wanted to focus on Management (I enjoyed the leadership and psychology of those classes.) It was the entrepreneurship part I was stuck on. I didn’t like crunching numbers and I was more interested in how business issues were being addressed internationally. So I signed some forms and changed my degree to a “B.S. in Global Business Management.”

In meeting with Dr. Reardon, the Global Business advisor at school, he told me the biggest graduation requirement I would now have to consider was the “international experience.”

“What exactly is that?” I asked.

“Basically you need to study abroad,” he said.

“I already did,” I said. “I was in Prague for over 4 months this year.”

“Yes,” he said, “but to get the credit you have to enroll in the International Experience course and complete a series of assignments while you’re out of the country. Since you didn’t do that, you’ll have to have another experience.”

I smiled coyly. “I can probably make that happen.”

He explained that to get credit, I had to be out of the country for at least 4 weeks and complete a series of essays that I would post online for him to grade. I could do pretty much anything with my time out of the country as long as I was (a) in a new and unexperienced culture and (b) in a position to observe or discuss business or management practices.

I continued scheming.

The decision couldn’t have been more difficult. Each option seemed more appealing than the next. Travelling around and working on farms just seemed like a very human and down to Earth experience, although perhaps not a relevant business experience. Dr. Reardon invited me to go do market research with him in Lithuania for the summer. That sounded like a great resume builder, not to mention a great chance to go see friends in Europe, but I also wanted to see a part of the world I hadn't been to before.

So I called one last recruiter to talk about the program their company provided. The woman that got assigned to my case was named Natalie. She explained that they had offices in Australia, Chile, China, London, Singapore, Spain, and New Zealand. They would take student’s applications, resumes, cover letters, and references and send them to all of their international offices. The international offices worked with local companies that were looking for English speaking interns and would match the intern up with a company. They worked with all college majors and took applicants ages 18-30.

Something about it just felt right. It took me a few days, but I filled out my application, updated my resume, and wrote my first cover letter (which was not a particularly good one.) Both of my bosses were very gracious and wrote me wonderful letters of recommendation that I sent along. As I turned it all in, I checked “Anywhere” under preferred location; leaving a note in the comments section that “I would prefer not to go to a European location, but am open to having an adventure anywhere!”

Two weeks later, I got a call. I was en route to pick up a friend to go skiing for the weekend (skiing being another new adventure I was embarking on since returning from Europe.) It was Natalie. She told me that the China office had agreed to take me on and was interested in placing me in Shanghai.

I was so thrilled! It was a new country, a new continent, a new culture! I could get lost, and be confused, and feel excited, and act determined. I could try new foods and hop on trains and chat with strangers. I could have an adventure!

And on this cold February night—over a year after I’d left for Europe, and two weeks after I found out I was China bound—my adventure was about to begin. Walking between to the two dragons, my Dad and I pushed through the glass doors and strolled inside.