Learning to Swim, Part 2 of 3: SPLASH!

Before I begin, I’d like to acknowledge the birthday of the woman who gave me life, and also swimming lessons, my wonderful mama. Happy Birthday Mom! I hope it’s a great day and send you my love. Whether it was in the swimming pool as a young kid or in life as an old kid, you’ve always helped me stay afloat.

Now let’s get to the post and driving this swimming analogy into the ground…

You can’t start swimming unless you get in the water, and with the keys to my apartment in hand, that weekend I dove head first into the pool. Late Saturday morning I took a cab with the bulk of my luggage from the hotel to my new pad. I called Zhao Jun, my landlord, earlier that morning and she agreed to meet me at my apartment at 1 o’clock to take me to sign up for internet access and such. She had offered to accompany me on this errand the day before when I signed my contract, a kind gesture that only confirmed my first impressions of her.

The cab ride was easy enough up until the end. In my limited experience with the area I only knew of one route to my apartment. Of course, it turns out there are multiple options, but at the time, all I could remember was “go down the alleyway with the giant construction hole in the middle of it, near the side road with the big white sign.”

After passing the big white sign in the cab, I informed the driver that we were close. Forgetting that the particular alleyway was not accessible by car from Chang Ning Lu (Lu means “road”), we quickly passed it and I asked the driver to pull over into a nearby parking lot and let me out. “Cash or card?” he asked in Chinese. “Cash,” I said as I pulled out money to pay him. I had been pleased enough this trip with my ability to understand the cabby. Earlier I had confirmed his planned route to my apartment. “Should I take Jiangsu Road?” he had asked. “Yeah! Yes, yes, yes.” I eloquently replied.

After another coherent exchange – “Do you want me wait?” “No want.” – I carried my bags the last few hundred yards down the alleyway, past the giant crater, around a few corners, through the courtyard, and finally up the stairs to my apartment. I dropped my stuff on the living room floor with a thud and took a moment to take it all in. Home!

Shortly thereafter, Zhao Jun and her husband, Wu Zhiming, who she affectionately called “Ming Ming,”[1] arrived at my door with smiles on their faces and bike helmets in their hands. Like many Chinese – not able to afford a car but too prosperous (or maybe too old) for just a plain ol’ bicycle – Zhao Jun and “Ming Ming” got around on a scooter. “William!” was my greeting as I opened the door. Zhao Jun had successfully read the foreign name on the contract. I welcomed them inside and did my best to be friendly, despite being a bit tired from my mini beast-out carrying the suitcases.

They were both eager to show off more of the apartment they had recently invested a lot in refurbishing, but we didn’t linger long. Wu Zhiming went off to ride his scooter, probably have a cigarette or three, and do whatever else he could do in my neighborhood. Zhao Jun escorted me on the mile and a half walk down Jiangsu Road to the local China Telecom branch.

As we weaved our way through typical Shanghai scenery along the main roadway – small shops, construction, etc. – Zhao Jun provided me with ample opportunity to practice my Chinese. The most common phrases I used were “I don’t understand,” and “I don’t know how to say it,” but I wasn’t completely inept, and I got the chance to learn a little bit more about my land lord. From what I gathered she and her husband and their 17 year old son used to live in my apartment. She used to be a teacher, but now, I’m not sure, but I think one or both of them had been recently laid off and are struggling with China’s poor unemployment support structure.

She asked me about the unemployment rate in America, and highlighting the gross inconsistencies in my Chinese, I was able to reply rather quickly and coherently (I think). For example, I can say that the unemployment rate is around 4.5% but I can’t say “The folder is purple” or “vanilla ice cream.” For the time being, I can get by, but this year it’s a major goal to get this beast of a language under control.

We reached the office and Zhao Jun helped me sign up for a deal that suited me. Somebody would be coming Monday morning to install everything, welcome news to a person that can barely survive without internet in his native country, let alone a country where he has no other forms of entertainment. We took care of the necessary paperwork and I returned home, now thoroughly exhausted.

After some much needed rest and a few hours of Chinese television, it was time to prepare for Sunday night – my first night in my new apartment. Though it seemed like the day was already over, it was only 4 o’clock or so, and I made my way to Carrefour, the chain superstore in the basement of the same mall that houses my office.

Long Zhi Meng, translated as “Dragon’s Dream” in Chinese, but known also by its English name, the Cloud Nine Shopping Center, is home to many struggling shops, all high-end fashion stores without a high-end consumer base to justify there presence. No matter what day of the week, or what time of day, many of the shops in Long Zhi Men are empty. Carrefour (“Jia Le Fu” in Chinese), like my office, thankfully, does not have to deal with this problem. Almost like a small version of Target connected to a huge super market, it’s always crowded and provides its many customers with goods ranging from Chinese toaster ovens to imported toaster strudel. There is a butcher (which sells EVERY part of the animal), a Chinese deli (like ones in America, except without anything good), a fish monger (pretty unremarkable, actually), and a place where you can get freshly made snacks (they have actual Indian people there making Indian Roti!). Basically, anything you need in your daily life, you can find at Carrefour.

Overwhelmed by all the purdy things, and eager to kick my settling in up a notch, I bought a ton of stuff. By the time I realized the size of the load in my cart, it was too late; the thing was overflowing with sheets, towels, pillows, a blanket, laundry detergent, and whatever other things I considered “essential” for my first night in the apartment. How many bags were they going to try to give me this time?

I checked out and began the haul back home. My wrists and hands started to hurt before I even got out of the mall. A twenty minute walk later and I had had my second beasting of the day. The good news was, I was back home. I threw the sheets and towels in the wash so that I could let them dry overnight while I was back at the hotel. As I broke in the washing machine, I resumed the unpacking process: hanging this, folding that, stacking this, storing that. By about 7:30, I had gotten most everything put away, and hung up. It was time to head back across town to enjoy one more night of internet at the hotel.

… …

I am startled out of bed around 8 am by the shrill chime of the hotel room doorbell (You can’t flush your toilet paper down the toilet, but the room has a doorbell). I look through the peep hole to see Zhang Zhiming (Ken) outside it is street clothes. I had told him I was going to be checking out early Sunday and that I would take him to see my apartment so he could find it at a later date. I had failed to clarify that early for me was before noon, not before nine.

I open the door, in a foul mood. His insistence on following me around in recent days, however innocent, had been beginning to get on my nerves. Cultural differences prevented him from knowing any better, and at that particular moment, also prevented him from knowing that it was rude for him to try to come in to my room at this particular time. Thoroughly pissed off, I sent him down to the lobby to wait for me for a few hours.

I checked out of the hotel around 11 and took a cab with Ken to my new place. I showed him the lay of the land and then sent him on his way so I could get ready for work. I took my first shower in the new apartment, which I’m pleased to say featured hot water AND good water pressure, got dressed with clothes taken from a closet, not a suitcase, and headed out for my first full day at Long Zhi Meng.

… …

NOTE: I’ll leave off here. The settling in saga has been a month-long process with lots of little stories along the way, but at this point, it becomes so intertwined with working that I will try to incorporate both into my next post. After that, I will try to get a little more focused with my postings.

Until next time…


Vocabulary: 生日快乐， shengri kuai le, “shung ruh kwigh luh”, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Happy b-day to my mama! Everyone wish her a happy birthday…or else! >:o

Music to move you: “Two” by Ryan Adams



[1] Chinese names put the surname first, followed by the first name. First names are most often one or two characters/syllables. My name for example, Bai Weilin (白威林), has a two-character first name. It’s a phonetic transcription of my English name. Other famous examples include Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping. Notice the surname first. That’s why people say “Chairman Mao” and not Chairman Zedong or Chairman Dong (haha). Zhao Jun provides an example of a one syllable first name.

A common way to nickname someone is two double the only syllable or the last syllable of their first name, hence Wu Zhiming becomes “Ming Ming.” This is not a constant rule. Nicknames are also subject to other conditions, such as whether they sound gender appropriate. I think it’s unlikely that people would call me “Lin Lin” because it sounds feminine…and I’m a terrifying foreigner. It's also unlikely that anyone called Mao "Dong Dong," though that would've been hilarious. Anyhow, there’s a little lesson for you.

Learning to Swim, Part 1 of 3: Give a man a home!

So as it turns out I’m not as good at updating this thing as I thought I’d be. Rather than update the blog regularly with short anecdotes and passing observations, I’m forced to scramble every few weeks to put together a super-sized Thanksgiving feast of a post. For those of you with short attention span…or an insatiable appetite for whatever it is I have say…I apologize. Nonetheless, it’s time to pull up a chair, put on your bib, and sound the Feasting Horn! There’s a lot to get you caught up on…

First of all, an explanation for my hiatus: quite simply, moving in, settling in, work, and recovering from the first three. When trying to set up shop on the other side of the world, the list of things to do seems endless. When you can check one thing off, you have to add another item to the list. I often think of learning to swim as a little kid, when your parent stands a short distance away from you, arms outstretched, encouraging you to swim to them. As you paddle and kick your way over, the parent backs up and backs up, and you keep swimming and swimming, flustered that the already challenging task has become even more so. (I often find myself using this analogy…maybe I’ve blocked out some traumatizing swimming lesson from my youth) Anyhow, “learning to swim” in China has been a non-stop mission to find a rhythm and get settled, and a month into it, I’m pleased to say, life is finally starting to show faint signs of settling down.

A major step – finding my apartment – was an interesting mini-adventure. After meeting with the real-estate agent Anson on my first day of work, I was told to expect a call from him the following day to set up a time to go apartment hunting. Tuesday morning came and went without word from Anson, so I took it upon myself after lunch to give him a call. He hadn’t been able to prepare any places to look, so he said one of his colleagues (“colleges,” as many Chinese pronounce it) would call me Wednesday.

Wednesday morning was oddly similar to Tuesday (no phone call), so, beginning to get a little bothered that my already slow acclimation process was approaching “watching paint dry” status, I had Lucy Lu put the whip to them. The uncertainty of why they hadn’t called me when they said they would bothered me greatly. I needed a place soon and the idea that the people expected to assist me in that process weren’t doing their jobs worried me. I only had a few days before EF stopped covering my hotel bill and these factors all made me even more anxious to lock down an apartment.

As it turns out, from what I’ve seen so far, that’s just how things go here. One needs to be patient but also proactive and persistent when trying to get things done. The sooner money’s involved, the better. And while most professional transactions aren’t conducted how they are in the states, if you get a business card from your peer, you’re probably safe from getting scammed.

Finally, that evening, Anson’s “college” Anne gave me a call and we agreed to meet the following morning to look at a few properties near Zhong Shan Park, where my office is located. On the phone, Anne’s timid English was the icing on the incompetence cake as far as I was concerned. Not only had these guys twice failed to follow-up with me when they said they would, but the woman handling my apartment hunt couldn’t even communicate with me? I was not feeling confident about the following morning, at all.

But with the new day came a new attitude and I wasn’t nearly so skeptical about the morning’s outing as I was the night before. I woke up to catch the bus/subway to meet Anne. After a few exchanged text messages I met up with her outside the Zhong Shan Park metro station. She had arranged two properties for us to look at on short notice. One was in my price range; the other was slightly higher than what I wanted. Anne’s English was better in person than on the phone, but I decided to drop the bombshell that I could speak Chinese (kaboosh!) As we made the fifteen minute walk from the station to the first appointment, that seemed to ease things a little bit.

The walk was a straight shot along Chang Ning Lu, a main road in the area. We arrived at a white sign with gold lettering that matched the address of the first stop on our itinerary. The sign hung outside of a nice looking apartment building and we waited there underneath it for the landlord to arrive. After a few minutes, a short woman in her mid-40s with short hair and a gentle, motherly face came to meet us. I missed the Chinese lesson on “Meeting the Landlord” so I just said “ni hao” (hello) and smiled while Anne did most of the talking.

Much to my distress, the woman led us away from the nice apartment building and down a small side road, lined with small shops and speckled with small construction projects. The narrow road served as the main artery for a number of alleyways which each housed a handful of short, concrete apartment buildings. A majority of traditional residential neighborhoods in Shanghai are built in this “long tang,” or alley-way style, which now contrasts quite noticeably with the new high rise apartment complexes shooting up all over town.

After weaving our way through an indistinguishable maze of concrete, construction, drying clothes, and iron gates we arrived at our destination. We walked through a quiet courtyard and into an unremarkable concrete apartment building. The landlord led us up to the second floor, past an abandoned couch and an abandoned bicycle, and welcomed us to our destination. Inside the apartment, the TV was on as the landlord’s husband shuffled around sweeping the floor with a short broom and long-handled dust pan. He, like his wife, also had a friendly face, but his appearance was more aged and his teeth were stained from the common Chinese past-time of smoking.

After seeing the neighborhood, I was very skeptical that this first place was going to be any good. This also concerned me because it was right in the price range I wanted and if this was all I could get for that amount, I would have to make a sacrifice on one end or the other –accommodation or price. Upon entering the apartment however, all of these doubts quickly disappeared. Anne’s exclamation of “Waaaaaah…” (Chinese for “wow”) pretty much summed the place up. Nestled in this old alleyway apartment building was a one bedroom apartment, newly renovated with brand new appliances in every room. A big bed, great natural light, two TV’s, a full bathroom, a sofa bed, a washing machine, a sit-down toilet…and all for a price that couldn’t be beat! The landlords gave us a full tour of the little apartment, and I was certainly impressed. It seemed to have everything I needed.

Excited by this surprising discovery, Anne and I bid farewell to the landlords and went to make a courtesy stop at the other location on the itinerary. It was a located on one of the upper floors of a new hotel right across the street from my office, but it was very small, and too expensive. Anne and I quickly concluded that I should sign a contract for the first place, especially because it was in rather high demand. It was extremely unlikely that I would find another place like that for that price, so close to my office. I told Anne to go ahead and inform the landlords that I wanted the apartment.

Now as much as I could complain about the first few days of dealing with these realtors, I was very impressed by how well they handled things from this point forward. The property was in high demand, but since the landlords liked me, Anne and Anson were able to drop the hammer and lock up a contract signing. Furthermore, they talked the landlords down from their listed rental price and got me the terms of the contract that I wanted. We signed Friday morning and by 1 pm I had the keys in hand. Now I could get the ball rolling!


Vocabulary: 家， jia, "jah," home. Check out the character. The upper radical represents a roof; the lower radical is a pig. Home is where the hog is :)

Music to move you: "Keys to your Love," Rolling Stones, The...