For a long time I have wanted to write about my experiences living and working in China, for myself as much as for others, so lockdown was the perfect opportunity to sit down, reassemble all my memories…and write. When in China I wrote extensively (in diaries and an online journal) but 17 years later the things I remember most vividly, and which affected me most are not the same as the events I meticulously recorded during my time there. I began teaching in Chongqing, at Sichuan International Studies University (SISU), in September 2003 and left in the summer of 2004. I then taught in Italy for a few months until deciding to return to China for a second year in Sept 2005 – this time I chose somewhere on the other side of the country – Yantai University in Shandong Province. Unsurprisingly, my first year was more significant and had more of an impact – the culture shock, lifestyle adjustment and burgeoning relationships were more intense than in my second year, so I will focus more on my first year. To make it easier to write (and read) I have divided this account into sections.
Decisions, Arrival, First Few Months, Initial Impressions.
Many people ask me why I chose to go to China – it was mainly due to it being one of only a few countries that would employ me with ample qualifications but zero teaching experience, and the opportunity to teach in a university and live on campus appealed too. For years I wanted to live abroad and see as much of the world as possible – escaping Croydon was a big incentive too! I was also much encouraged by the communication I had with a few universities I had contacted – so friendly and welcoming! I chose Chongqing because out of a handful of positive responses SISU was the friendliest. This enormous sprawling super-city (approximately half the size of England!) used to be known as Chungking and appeared on a map in one scene in Indiana Jones! That was all I knew about it until my arrival.
It is strange the things that stay in one’s memory as vividly as though it were yesterday. Whole years seem to vanish into thin air, but throughout my life I have always remembered first encounters with people and places. So it is not surprising that I can still remember the details of my first few weeks in China – the overwhelming emotions of being so far from home and the acute sensory overload of the streets, traffic, voices, heat, pollution and intoxicating sights.
Luckily for me the foreign affairs secretary ‘Mr Ma’ settled me in over the two-week induction period before teaching commenced – providing me with campus restaurant vouchers, escorted trips to the local supermarket, mini guided tours and insightful discussions about Chinese history and culture. I fell in love with the food from my very first bite and it was nothing like the Chinese food we eat in the west – being significantly hotter, saltier, wetter and softer – my favourite kind of taste sensations!
I had my own spacious two-bedroom apartment (with lovely tiled veranda) in a little ‘foreign expert’ housing block nestled behind a tennis court in one corner of the campus. My first few days were spent scrubbing it (attempting to remove the black layers of filth) and trying to banish the presence of my resident cockroaches. The kitchen floor leaked the instant you turned on the tap and, in the bathroom, if I wasn’t stepping over bugs, I was frantically trying to avoid having my feet walked on by large centipedes that came up the plughole in the shower. Fun times. I also, for some time, had a pet bat who would arrive outside my window at the same time every night. That was until I innocently pointed it out to the resident caretaker one morning who promptly decided to spear it and kill it – I remember the shock of seeing its flapping bloodied body on the ground below. Needless to say, there were many instances like this – particularly when there were misunderstandings and a communication breakdown.
I also remember my very first day of teaching. I was gripped with paralyzing fear. It would be my first ever teaching experience beyond my four-week initial teacher training course and it was no easy initiation – waiting for me was a classroom with over 40 students! The lesson was a blur but afterwards they all clapped (naturally I wasn’t expecting that!) and then I had a queue of about 7 girls all inviting me to have lunch or dinner with them and one even invited me to visit her hometown at the weekend. From that moment on I was never alone. For some reason that first class ended up being the class where I made most of my closest friends – Ginny, Isel, Isabella and one boy called Alex. Most Chinese people who have contact with ‘westerners’ use an English name – it makes things a lot easier!
Over the next few months I had a wonderful time – China opened up to me as I opened up to her. Everyday life was in many ways so much easier than back home. Getting around (a constant flow of buses or cheap taxis), food (on every corner and amazingly cheap and delicious), getting things fixed or sorted in the apartment (workmen on hand), entertainment options (shopping, cheap counterfeit DVDs, bars, clubs, campus social events) etc. I felt safe too – and that in itself was a liberating experience. Public life in China carries on well into the night – children potter around, shops, malls and markets are open late. Streets are always well-lit and busy; taxi drivers were always polite and friendly and there was no underlying sexual atmosphere – so unlike the Middle East (and sometimes the UK) where the air was thick with it. Even in nightclubs there was no ‘meat-market’ atmosphere – everybody was fully clothed, acting civilised and keeping themselves to themselves.
Whilst I never embraced or approved of the great overarching philosophical ‘god’ called ‘Chinese culture,’ which shackled every living thing under the hot Chinese sun, I did admire and respect the general way of Chinese people – easy-going, kind, fun, playful, polite and generous. And in many aspects, the society appeared to ‘work’ (that is, as far as a foreigner could see) and the totalitarian state, with all its powers, rules, brutality and restrictions, was largely invisible. So, I loved the freedom (ironic in so many ways), loved living back on a university campus, adored my job and lifestyle and got closer and closer to my student-friends. The only thing that really stretched my patience were the public toilet nightmares and the extent to which all people seemed to follow, blindingly and unquestionably, their god called culture.
Adventures
Undeniably the highlight of my time in China was the travelling, exploring and sightseeing – which I did as often as I could and mostly with my student-friends. In this chapter I have listed the highlights, from both years, and in no particular order.
Horse Trekking in the Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture & ‘Fairyland’
Sounds epic and it was! One of the most famously beautiful places in China is a biosphere reserve and UNESCO national park called Jiu-zhai-gou (‘nine Tibetan settlement valley) located high up in northern Sichuan province (pictured above). I went there one weekend with my friend Alex as my ‘guide.’ All day long we caught one public bus after another – we didn’t plan or book anything – we simply had his ability to speak Chinese and my Lonely Planet guidebook. Most of the minibuses were battered and broken and packed with local workers who stank to high heaven and kept spitting and hacking up (a common phenomenon back then and pre-Sars).We stayed overnight in a gorgeous hilltop city called Songpan and the next day we went horse trekking into the snowy mountains passing through tiny Tibetan villages. We sometimes rode and sometimes walked beside our horses. I remember the stunningly beautiful scenery – snowy forests, near and distant mountains and the wizened but smiley faces of the elderly Tibetan women with elaborately decorated clothes and beautifully braided hair. We also saw some apparently very rare birds – bright yellow in colour; the guide was delighted at this, hence why I can remember as birds don’t usually make an impression on me!
I cannot recall the details of how, but eventually we made it to Jiu-zhai-gou – also known as Fairyland of Sichuan! It was undoubtedly breathtaking – bright iridescent turquoise lakes, virgin forests, frothy waterfalls and bubbling brooks galore – all observed behind low wooden barriers, on well-trodden walkways and for the price of a fairly costly entrance ticket. I was expecting something along the lines of the Lake District, what I got was more like a natural theme park. Apparently, because the area is so protected and so special one cannot just go wandering off – as with a lot of China, freedom (in all its guises) is severely restricted. Oddly though, or perhaps not, most Chinese tourists (many in high-heel shoes) treated the whole thing as though it were a photographic backdrop – they were far more interested in themselves, and each other, than the dazzling fairyland vistas before them. This was another facet of Chinese culture that grew increasingly tiresome. As for the journey home – I cheated. In hindsight it was horribly unfair but there was no way I could have bussed it all the way back to Chongqing – not unless I was prepared to abscond from a few days of teaching. So, after a few phone calls made by Alex I managed to book a flight from the nearest airport and was back in my apartment before Alex had even caught his first bus back. Travelling with students worked wonderfully – I was able to navigate the country with a native speaker and they got intensive practice with English and got to travel and see parts of their country that they may not have seen otherwise. It also gave them a taste of independent travel – something uncommon in China.
Beijing: The Forbidden City, The Great Wall, & Tiananmen Square
The Forbidden City was just as romantic, impressive and ornately beautiful as I imagined. During my second year in China, at Yantai University, I became close friends with a student called Violet and during a half-term holiday we decided to travel to Beijing together. It was uncomfortably hot, and the air was filled with masses of fluffy snow-white floating catkins shed by the Cottonwood Poplars that surround Beijing. We explored The Forbidden City and Summer Palace – taking photos, befriending strangers, and reading about the history and strange events that took place eons ago. I loved Beijing, with its wide roads, thronging streets and merging of old and new. Old China is exceptionally aesthetically pleasing – conjuring up images of arched bridges crowning lily-filled ponds, temple gateways like windows to bygone times, narrow cobbled streets lined with red paper lanterns, and quaint markets selling silk and silver and bowls of spicy noodles cooked by smiling old ladies with blackened teeth.
The legendary Great Wall of China didn’t fail to impress either – we avoided the more popular and reconstructed part of the wall (at Badaling) and travelled further out of the city (by bus) to Simatai – here the wall is more authentic and crumbling and less trammeled by a daily footfall of thousands. Once the steps had been climbed (which was no easy feat), the views were magnificent, vast and vertigo-inducing. I remember a ferocious thunderstorm brewing just as we departed – which only added to the sublime experience.
Visiting Tiananmen (the Gate of Heavenly Peace) and Tiananmen Square, was an experience like no other, particularly considering the terrible events that occurred there in 1989 (which still, to this day, few Chinese people know anything about). From the moment we entered the enormous ‘arena’ it felt like we were entering formidable and extremely hostile territory. Stern looking armed guards were positioned in lines only meters apart and there was an atmosphere of claustrophobic surveillance and uncompromising seriousness. To gain access to the imposing gate – the most recognizable symbol of China – we were told to leave our bags and phones and keep moving. But once standing on the upper floors of the gate and viewing the panoramic view of the largest city square in the world we knew this was no ordinary place and not your everyday sightseeing experience. Upon leaving, for a few extra Yuan, we purchased commemorative certificates with the date and time of our visit formally stamped – a rather charming souvenir considering the officialism of the experience. Like so much in China, ‘cuteness’ is ever-present. I believe Violet met some students who invited us to a nightclub that evening. I also think Violet and I had a few quarrels that week – but such things must be expected when two people from entirely different cultures embark on an adventure together. Nevertheless, the trip was a success and we remained close friends.
Shanghai, The Venice of the East & Hangzhou
Ginny and Isel were undoubtedly my closest friends in China. Ginny was very much still a student, whereas Isel was much more mature and more on my wavelength when it came to certain things. Upon my return to China in 2005, Isel had moved to Shanghai for work so one week outside of term-time she invited me to stay with her. Shanghai was a real ‘shock’, in the sense that it wasn’t a familiar ‘China’ that I had got used to. Unlike Chongqing – a sprawling mountain city choking with the fumes of a thousand motorbikes, in Shanghai, devoid of any hills, the principle mode of transport was the bicycle. We stayed in the tiny apartment she rented with her mum (who moved in with a friend for the duration of my stay) and we shared the large double bed. I recall that we used Shanghai as a kind of base from which to visit and explore other parts of China that I longed to see.
The first place we travelled to by train was Suzhou, a 2,500-year-old-city, also referred to as the ‘Venice of the East’ because of its narrow canals, gondolas, stone bridges and pagodas. Any reference to Venice beguiles me, as most people who know me also know my lifelong passion for the Italian Serenissima, and I was not disappointed. Suzhou was beautiful, quaint, romantic and other worldly. Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t great, so I ended up strolling around in a long, wet dress. Suzhou was also famous for its 60 (!) meticulously designed classical gardens – collectively forming a UNESCO heritage site. We visited ‘The Humble Administrator’s Garden’ and one other if I recall correctly. They were both stunning and filled with all sorts of abundant flora, but what made the greatest impression on me were the enormous ponds filled with lotus plants – just an enormous sea of green as no pink lotus flowers were in bloom.
A few days later Isel and I travelled to Hangzhou, again by train. This time I was disappointed. The main draw of this prosperous city is West Lake – another UNESCO site. But it literally was just a nondescript large lake with no discerning features.
While in Shanghai we also visited the famous Jade Buddha Temple, ate Korean food, stayed up late watching films, strolled around and went to Bar Rouge – which has since become one of the fanciest bar/clubs in the city. It is located on The Bund – an iconic mile-long stretch of waterfront promenade along the Huangpu River. On the terrace it was only possible to stand, as sitting down required the purchase of extravagantly priced drinks. So, we stood, chatted and gazed at the sparkling famous night scene across the curving river.
Yunnan Province with Mum and Ginny
Towards the end of my first year in China my mum came to stay with me for two weeks. She had always wanted to visit China and it was wonderful to see her again after so many months apart. Ginny and I organised a week’s trip to Yunnan Province – home to the ‘Old Town of Lijiang’, Dali and Kunming (the province’s capital).On the day we set off for the airport Ginny turned up with a random guy from her village – from what we could gather, at the last minute, Ginny’s parents had decided to provide a ‘male escort’ unbeknownst to us. There was a terrible kafuffle as the boy spoke no English and was clearly reluctant to join us and we all argued about it with Ginny’s parents via Ginny who was herself the angriest and confused of all! Unfortunately, the parents had their way which also meant that every hotel booking we had made became problematic once we tried to fit him in. The trip didn’t begin well for that reason and for another – on our outward flight the airplane got into trouble during takeoff and I literally thought I was going to die. Poor Ginny – it was her first ever experience on a plane! I was screaming, she was ghostly white, and my poor mum was desperately trying to comfort us both. Five years later I would have another bad flying experience in Libya when one of the aircraft’s engines caught fire. At least I lived to tell the tale!
Some of the places we saw on our trip were spectacular. The famous Stone Forest near Kunming was a vast eerie labyrinth of ancient limestone formations that once were under the sea. Here and there were beautiful smiley girls colourfully attired in Sani Ethnic minority costume – obviously for the tourists but they added to the otherworldly atmosphere. Yunnan Province is home to many ethnic minorities – each with their own unique customs, clothing and history. At one place we visited I rode across a river on a huge hairy, fluffy yak which was wonderful, at another we all formed a large circle with the costumed girls and danced around a campfire singing folk songs – this is called ‘circle dancing,’ which I later learned and was performed mainly by the folk people of Tibet. Mum especially loved that! I believe we caught a night-train to Dali – that was a nightmarish experience – sleeping in a crusty bunk opposite smelly, snoring Chinese men with filthy loos and heavy-footed armed guards prowling the corridors all night – never again! But when we arrived at our destination, we discovered the stunning alpine fault lake called Erhai or ‘ear-shaped sea’ and the old town of Dali itself was a beautiful little place to explore.
But by far the crowning glory of our trip was Lijiang – a breathtakingly beautiful 1,000-year-old UNESCO town with cobbled streets, canals, bridges and ancient little houses. It is also home to the Naxi ethnic people (matrilineal and non-monogamous) who inhabit Yunnan and the foothills of the Himalayas. I remember sitting in a quaint café beneath hanging red paper lanterns watching the bright orange fish in the canal and then strolling around the lovely little shops – mum bought a gorgeous (but fairly pricey) ‘Dongba aspirational wind-bell’ handcrafted by the Naxi people. It still hangs in her kitchen to this day. Lijiang was one of those exotically beautiful places that leave a deep impression in the mind. Its location felt very remote, wild and mountainous and unlike most of China the air was clear and crisp. Ginny remarked that evening, as we lit floating paper lotus lanterns and set them free on one of the canals, that she had never seen the stars before. The sky in Chongqing was always hazy and vaguely beige in hue, the rivers the shade of butterscotch, but here the skies were brilliant-blue by day and sparkling with a thousand stars by night.
Mum enjoyed the remainder of her stay with me – exploring interesting places I had discovered around my uni and visiting a remote temple with Isel and her mum. She didn’t, however, enjoy my dining preferences of slimy dumplings and chili noodles! Eeek!
In and Around Chongqing
Despite the extensive travelling I crammed in during my first teaching year, I also explored a lot of Chongqing itself. A longish walk from the uni was a charming ramshackle and ornately decorated ancient area called Ciqikou – filled with red hanging lanterns, traditional tea shops, craft stalls, food stalls and art shops. Reaching its zenith during the end of the Qing Dynasty, the town has been described poetically as the place where ‘one thousand people greet each other during the day…ten thousand lamps flicker at night’. A 1,500-year-old Buddhist temple straddles the mountain in the middle of the town too. It had an authentic, yet romantic atmosphere and I went there often – mum also loved it.
A bus ride away was the district of Beibei – home to Jinyun Mountain upon which stood two temples. Each time I went there the mountain was coated in thick, dripping fog – there was an eerie stillness to the place, and I remember a large lake which was exactly the same shade of watery grey as the sky. I also went on a boat trip with a fellow teacher and some students – to visit Fengdu Ghost City. What a place! It was an enormous sprawling complex of temples, museums, pagodas, lakes and forest with numerous exhibits of twisted ghouls from Chinese folklore, statues and dummies being horrifically tortured and all manner of brutal, ghoulish and macabre sights. I also visited other districts, the nearby city of Chengdu where I visited the panda breeding base, old villages, caves and mountains, and attended concerts and student-led performances. I was also a judge for various student talent contests and competitions. The CBD of Chongqing, Jiefangbei, was also a sight to see – a mega metropolis of gargantuan proportions teeming with people night and day. I sometimes went there for a shopping trip or to enjoy one of the many western restaurants.
In and around Yantai
As Yantai university in Shandong (my second posting a year later) was literally situated on the beach, I spent a lot of time there or just drifting around the town and hanging out locally with student-friends. I used to love visiting a large dumpling restaurant where a grubby old man would stroll around with a bucket offering a sloppy dip of raw garlic – delicious! Unlike Chongqing, which got incredibly hot, Yantai was much further north (parallel to the border of north and south Korea) so it was freezing in winter. One day I woke up to find myself in a winter wonderland! Thick snow everywhere, even on the beach, and the campus lake had frozen over. I remember travelling further along the coast to a lighthouse – I climbed up to behold a dazzling view across the sea. I also visited an aquarium which had a polar area, shark hall, tropical rainforest, and a theatre with mermaids, dolphins and sea lions (which I kissed!). The mermaids were beautiful!
Even further along the coast was Penglai – a premium tourist spot in China for over a thousand years. Its Water Fortress, a fortified harbour, is one of China’s oldest military ports and Penglai Pavilion, a Song Dynasty complex, is ranked among the Four Great Towers of China in literary tradition. There was even a beautiful sculpture park. Of course, similar to my first year, I visited my students’ homes, some of them quite a distance away. I went to one really old village where some of the older residents had never seen a foreigner before (so they were super smiley and eager to shake my hand) and a few older women even had bound feet. I cried when my student told me their stories.
In general, though, Shandong province wasn’t as interesting as Chongqing and slowly the novelty of living and working in China was starting to wear off. I also had a few unpleasant incidents with some of the other foreign teachers and I was wary of the American contingent on campus who were being sponsored by the Catholic Church to convert the young, naïve students. Baptisms on the beach were a frequent occurrence – much to my horror. But I made some lifelong friends too – Sharity, Violet, Merry, Ashley, a fun guy named Jimmy, my neighbour Rainer (a German lecturer) and a Korean guy called Philip. But now, when I reflect upon my time in China, it is usually the first year in Chongqing that springs to mind – with the grimy but picturesque dilapidated buildings, red lanterns, cobbled old lanes, dirty skies, friendly faces and spicy bowls of noodles on every corner.
Adventures of the Heart
Undoubtedly, the legacy of my time in China are the enduring friendships I made. I am still in contact with Isel and Isabella – but last year Ginny inexplicably stopped responding to my emails. I am trying to find out what happened but so far, I have had no luck. I also fell in love in China. How do you know when it’s love? Because of the pain. As part of my SISU university teaching contract I taught in a high school once a week. I would get driven to the school and back in a fancy black car with a driver wearing gloves – I felt like a VIP! Upon arrival a very sweet ‘starstruck’ little boy called Dennis would excitedly greet me and carry my bag and books to the classroom while behind us a trail of teenage girls would be merrily pointing and giggling. Chongqing was a city with very few foreign tourists and teachers so perhaps, in some ways, I was a VIP (of sorts). I eventually made friends with a science teacher at the school – a lovely guy called Jack. His English was superb and at weekends we would often meet for coffee or visit somewhere together.
One morning in the middle of an ordinary weekday, upon arrival at the school Jack met me from the car (along with Dennis) and as we entered the building a tall, long-haired dashingly handsome man passed us and said ‘hello’. Within that first glance I felt the stirrings of a deep and powerful romantic attraction. I instantly enquired as to who he was and every week from then on, I would eagerly anticipate seeing him in the staffroom. His name was Xiaolin and he was a PE teacher and part-time actor and model – swoon. Jack eventually introduced us and one day Xiaolin asked me out.
On our first date we went to the beautiful Eling Park located in central Chongqing. I wore my newly acquired white ‘qipao’ dress (a traditional Chinese figure-hugging silk dress with high collar) given to me as a gift from a student. But right from the outset the language barrier was a problem – Xiaolin spoke only basic English. We walked around the park tentatively holding hands doing our best to communicate and discuss, in a rudimentary way, the usual subjects that new lovers explore – family, childhood, worldviews, past encounters, dreams of the future etc… He was an extremely shy and gentle soul with an underlying quiet melancholy. He had a beautiful face and body with the most luscious jet-black hair. It was me who made the first move – we sat in an ornate pavilion beside an eerily still water-lily pond beneath a heavy, perpetually grey sky…and kissed.
It was easy to fall in love with Xiaolin and over the next few months we grew closer and closer. I met his lovely family, he would secretly stay over at my apartment (he’d sneak past the sweet, elderly ‘guard’ who spent all day marching and doing funny exercises outside the gate of the foreign expert block) and we travelled to some lovely places together. Of course, there were myriad problems too – mainly caused by the increasingly difficult and frustrating language barrier and the encroaching cultural differences. Unlike some of my student-friends and Jack who were open-minded and fully aware of the limitations imposed upon them by the Chinese state and Chinese culture, Xiaolin was more traditional. I once asked him a question and I distinctly remember his response: ‘in China you don’t ask why.’ A chilling likeness to that harrowing infamous answer to the question of how the holocaust could have happened: ‘Hier ist kein warum’.
Despite our differences, being with Xiaolin was the only time in my life when I seriously envisioned having a child – I had always loved Chinese babies and could see myself with a half-Chinese little girl. I was only 25 at the time so by now my theoretical child would be 16 years old. But I feel relieved that I didn’t go down that route – I could never have permanently lived in China so it would have been unfair to all involved. I remember my last day in Chongqing in the summer of 2004, a day that still pulls at my heart. My contract had ended, my suitcases were packed, and I was ready to be taken to the airport. Xiaolin had stayed the night before and had decorated my bed with rose petals – there were even petals floating atop the mosquito net. I was wearing a long floaty green dress and the Swarovski crystal lock-and-key necklace Xiaolin had bought me (something I still treasure). My friends came over that morning too, to say their goodbyes, and we all sat together in the empty campus restaurant next to my apartment waiting for the car to arrive. Despite Xiaolin, my beloved friends and the job and country I had grown to love – it felt the right time to leave. I missed my friends and family in England and had dreams of teaching in other countries. Of course, I ended up returning to china a year later…but by then I had lost touch with Xiaolin and knew he would have to find a girl to marry and settle down with – someone less freethinking, less questioning…and less foreign than me.
My two years in China were magical and I feel so privileged to have met such wonderful people and visited such spectacular places. The memories will stay with me my whole life.
