TheBanyanTree: Transition to the Real China, Part 2

[Pat M]

 Transition to the 'Real China', Part 2
End of August 2007


Frank told me I would be checking out of the hotel that day, for which I was
grateful.  I was anxious to make a home for myself with some of the
conveniences I'd been missing--like a kitchen so I could cook my own food, a
computer so I could easily stay in contact with family and friends and
listen to music (I hadn't heard any English music since early July) and a
television and DVD player so I could watch DVDs.   There are no English TV
stations in the Xian area.



Just before noon, Frank arrived with a porter and a trolley for my luggage.
While I settled my account, he loaded the car.   Then, he led me to the
hotel's sitting area and introduced me to Alice, Buckland Lintong's
principal.  Alice, a petite, efficient woman in her early forties wore a
blouse and a pleated skirt.   She walked authoritatively on very high heels
and had a firm handshake. Her hair was styled in a tight bun on the top of
her head.



We drove to a famous dumpling restaurant across the road from the Bell Tower
where Alice ordered for all of us from the Chinese-only menu. By now, I was
adept at eating with chopsticks and used to sharing food from communal
plates.



The waitress, uniformed in traditional gold and pale green silk, delivered
platter after platter of food.   Each dish was arranged so artistically that
I felt I should be taking a photo of it instead of eating it, but eat it, I
did. I ate bamboo, lotus root, tofu and many unidentifiable vegetables.   Three
plates heaped with coin-sized, meat-filled dumplings were delivered to our
table. I identified two of the fillings as beef and pork, and was unsure of
the third. I decided not to ask. I could only hope it wasn't some animal's
entrails or another meat I found offensive. (I'd already eaten donkey
without realizing it.) If I were to survive in China, I could not ask for a
list of ingredients every time an unfamiliar food was offered; everything
was unfamiliar.



Over lunch, Frank told me the school I had initially planned to teach at had
decided to combine 2 or 3 classes together so class size would be anywhere
from 125 to 200 students. (And I had been worried about handling 60 – 100
students!)   He knew I didn't want to teach huge classes so had suggested
Buckland Lintong English College as an alternative.  Three months earlier,
it had opened its doors and was just getting established; its classes were
small and its foreign teacher was leaving in the next few days.



I warmed to Alice right away and sensed she and I would get along well.  Her
English skills were limited but she was very friendly.  During the meal, her
cell phone rang.  When she hung up, she told us she would be unable to
accompany us to the school that afternoon as she had other business to
attend to.  Before leaving, she said, "I'd like to take you to supper and to
a play tonight."


Frank and I arrived at Buckland Lintong English College, a three-story
building, after a 50-minute drive from Xian. Inside, it was bright,
clean and very quiet.  There, I met a young Chinese teacher named Amy who
led us through the building and showed us the numerous classrooms.   It was
late afternoon and there were only two students on site.  Frank explained
that he could not show me the foreign teacher's apartment because Mayo (a
young French Canadian) had not yet vacated it.



We drove back to Xian and went to Frank's home to view online photos of
the apartment I would live in if I accepted the Lintong teaching position.
It was on the sixth floor of a new, gated apartment complex.  Among the
beige high-rises, there was a small grassy park with a children's play
area.  Photos of the inside showed a large, bright, furnished living
room/dining room with a fridge and a water dispenser, a kitchen with a
two-burner propane stove and microwave, a bedroom with a double bed, a
bathroom with a western-style toilet (good news!), an office with a desk,
bookcase and a computer with a printer and scanner. Great!  ( A computer in
my apartment was an absolute necessity—I planned to learn to use MSN Live
Messenger to make free phone calls to my family in Canada.)



After touring the school and viewing photos of the apartment, I felt
excited.  I'd managed to find exactly what I was looking for.   I knew the
college job would require more work (I'd have to create many lesson plans
every week) because of the numerous levels of English being taught, but that
was okay.   (In the public school, I would have only needed to prepare one
or two lesson plans a week as I would have taught numerous classes of students
at the same level.)



"I think I will be very happy at Lintong," I told Frank as he maneuvered his
way through the traffic , imagining the small classes and the beautiful
apartment I would live in.



I don't think I will ever get used to the traffic in China.  Cars pull out
from side roads into the path of three lanes of oncoming traffic causing
everyone to stop or veer around them.   Cars drive on the wrong side of the
road if it suits them.  Calling the roads chaotic would be an
understatement.   No one stops for pedestrians and some times one becomes
stuck in the middle of numerous lanes of surging traffic, unable to move as
cars whiz past only inches away.



China is much safer than Guatemala in regards to crime; guns are prohibited.
  It is the traffic that I fear here.  Every day about 400 people die on
China's roads.  It's a very real problem.   While riding taxis, I've been in
innumerable near collisions.  While crossing the road, I have prayed to make
it to the other side alive; I'm not joking. It's one of those things you
can't explain in words.



Frank checked me into a less expensive hotel mainly used to house Communist
Party of China government officials while they studied at a nearby training
centre.  Interesting…  I couldn't figure out why I was allowed to stay there
or why Frank had put the room in his name.   While checking in, I'd handed
the receptionist my passport as is required in China, but she returned it to
me without noting the details.  All foreigners must produce a passport or
they can not check into a hotel.   If they are staying in a private
residence, they must register with the local police within 24 hours of
arrival or they are in violation of the law. The Chinese government wants to
know where all foreigners are, at all times.



Alice arrived just minutes after Frank left.   She took me to dinner at a
very popular, crowded restaurant where I ate octopus and the closest thing I
could find to western food, a fresh fruit pizza (both were unusual but
tasty).  There, some of Alice's friends joined us.  Instead of going to a
play, we went to KTV, a karaoke bar with numerous separate,
soundproof rooms, each with its own sound system. Alice and her friends sang
some beautiful traditional Chinese songs and I was finally convinced to sing
some English songs. I'm no singer but I think I did a fine job of, "How much
is that doggy in the window?"



The next morning, Alice picked me up and took me for breakfast. Again, she
ordered for me. Included were deep-fried (still hot) bread s ticks that had
been cooked in slightly rancid pork fat.  The smell of them nauseated me.  The
warm soya milk, vegetable dumplings, hard-cooked egg and pickles were tasty,
though.



Later in the afternoon, Frank drove me to the electronics market, a
four-story building jam packed with every electronic device you can imagine.
  Frank helped me communicate with the vendors and bargained on my behalf.  I
bought a pair of good-quality headphones and a microphone as well as some
small speakers so I would be able to listen to music while working on the
computer.



When we'd finished shopping, I told Frank I'd like to take him for coffee to
thank him for his help.   He drove us to the UBC Coffee House, a very
elegant place at the top of a marble

spiral staircase, and the waitress seated us near the window.  I ordered an
Americano (real coffee!) and Frank ordered fresh fruit tea.  I noticed there
were many private rooms with heavy satin curtains drawn and asked Frank
about them.   He told me that many Chinese men have affairs (particularly
men in positions of authority) and the private rooms were used by such
couples as a discreet place to meet.   We lingered over our beverages for a
couple of hours chatting.  Then, Frank drove me back to the hotel. It didn't
take me long to figure out that no one spoke English at th is hotel either.




When suppertime came, I went searching for a place to eat where I could read
the menu.  There was no such place to be found.  In frustration, I returned
to the hotel room and made the package of instant noodles that I'd brought
with me from Yangshuo.



The next day, I gathered my courage and my bilingual map and caught a taxi
to the Big Goose Pagoda, one of Xian's many famous  sights.  Not only were
there many life-size bronze statues and a 64 meter high pagoda built in AD
652 to house the Buddhist scriptures brought back from India by a  travelling
monk, but there was a spectacular free show near the pagoda at noon. Thousands
of fountains and colored lights were choreographed to dance to classical
music.



That evening, Frank called to say he wanted to show me another school. My
heart sank.   I couldn't believe it!  He'd spoken with head office and they
wanted me to work in a public school.  If I taught in Lintong, he said, I'd
have to work weekends and my contract stated I'd have weekends off. In
Lintong, my days off would be Mondays and Tuesdays.   I told Frank I didn't
want to look at another school and didn't mind if I had to work weekends.  He
told me he'd call Yangshuo again and would get back to me the following
day. I was getting tired of waiting for a placement and cranky because the
"Real China" was such a challenge.



****