My life in China, Part 10- Six months to life

*Originally posted 11/1/2020

How many times in life do we kick ourselves? The first few days I was in China, I kept a journal. I even brought several blank notepads realizing there would be value in documenting my experiences. But then, the wonders of the country pulled me away, and I stopped after perhaps half a dozen entries. I don’t even know where that journal is. I likely lost it with all the moving in our life, but what it documented, I remember with crystal clarity (four days without food and thinking I made a terrible mistake). The other notebooks I used for my fiction writing notes. At that particular youthful moment, spending my time writing about my life, seemed a waste when I could be living it! This blog alone shows that I’ve since learned from my error, but man, do I damn that stupid kid sometimes when I’m clawing for those dusty memories. Luckily, I didn’t lose everything yet, and this trip down memory lane has stirred up all sorts of beautiful moments and lessons I had forgotten.

A few days ago, I turned 39, which made me think about how quickly it all goes by. Just one more year before the top of the hill, and then I start the trip down. These posts have reintroduced me to the man I was, and at this point in my life, I see the value of tracking growth. Thus, I just wanted to take a moment to thank you all for pushing me on this journey, and I hope my stories bring you joy and perhaps a laugh. There is still a bit of meat on the story bone yet, and I’ve created a lengthy list of topics to cover. I plan to keep writing until I am satisfied I have nothing left to say. But I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for this blog, so again, thanks.

For this tale, I continue with the reasons why my six-month contract turned into two years.

As mentioned above, I originally signed a 6-month contract with Hebei University. I planned to be in China from January to June of 2005. After, I intended to continue with my education and obtain my Ph.D. in Developmental Psychology at the University of Minnesota (one of the top schools for the topic), where I planned to study bullying behavior and adolescent aggression. I had some strong research experiences in the area and had presented my work at two conferences with the real possibility of getting a publication from my work. The faculty member I wanted to work with at the University of Minnesota was a leader in the field and happened to be the research advisor of the professor I worked with in my undergrad, so I had a strong connection. I was reasonably sure I would get accepted. But ultimately, none of that happened. Life had a different plan for me.

First, my passions changed. All through college, I was really a historian moonlighting as a Psychologist. I took so many history courses that I earned a minor degree (and just a few credits away from a double major). The complete change in my path began almost immediately in China where I saw history coming to life. I was always fascinated by the people, culture, and past of this country but now I was completely immersed. I could see it, smell it, taste it, hear it, and feel it, and it permeated my soul. Inspired, I began to blend my psychology background, love of history, and my new writing passion and quickly produced my first novel. Given the time to write, I did so in an epic fashion even before my first six months were up. No longer wishing to continue in Psychology, a world of possibilities opened, and I needed to find a new path. I enjoyed what I was doing, and China enraptured me. There was just so much to see, do, and learn and I couldn’t leave yet.

Above was an excellent reason to stay, and maybe if things were different, It would have still been enough, but my resolve was strengthened by love. I had fallen and fallen deeply. As June was fast approaching, I knew for sure that I couldn’t leave China. Although I had no idea where this new path would take me, everything in my heart said this was the journey for me. Thus, the decision to stay was relatively easy. For how long? I didn’t know, but I did suspect that it was going to be for a while. I started by signing a year-long contract, which would give me more pay and bump up in my accommodations (as I mentioned before, those with one-year contracts got a suite, while those on six months just got a room). Then we would see where life would take me.

Unfortunately, this new contract wouldn’t begin until September, which affected my visa. More importantly, I needed to put some of my affairs in order in the States to allow me to stay. Namely, I needed cash. I had college loans, and my salary in China wasn’t going to cut it for much longer. I also had some important plans that required financing that I will talk about in a bit. Luckily, a family friend offered me a temporary job in a company that built stairs. I didn’t realize it then, but the carpentry skills I learned those two months would serve me well later in life when I bought a house in need of some tender loving care. But that is a story to tell much further down the road.

Leaving China, even for just two months, was incredibly difficult. My blossoming love was still relatively new, just under half a year, and being away from each other for so long was going to be a huge test. At this point, we were spending all our time together. From morning to night, until Dàbáilóu staff would come knocking at 10 pm signaling that it was curfew. Yes, you heard that right. Outsiders were not allowed in Dàbáilóu after 10 pm. At each stairway, there was a little desk with a Chinese student tracking our coming, going, and who was visiting. We were both adults, yet very much treated like students from the 1950s. Wait until I get to when we were married. Anyway, going from that to nothing was enough to make you sick, but low on cash and with a visa about to expire, I didn’t have much choice.

As you can imagine, this required a lot of trust in our love, but mostly on my future wife’s part. Many people, including her parents, didn’t believe I would come back. If you recall from a prior post, many Chinese think that Americans are promiscuous and individualistic to the point of selfishness. Her whole circle thought that I had my fun and was going to move on. I did my best to reassure her I would return, but it wasn’t easy, and I’m sorry I had to do that to her. God, thinking back to that point, brings tears to my eyes even now. I mean, a million things could have happened. Nothing brings that to more clarity than COVID. If what we are going through now happened back then, two months could have easily turned into years *shiver* (there is still an effectual travel ban between the US and China).

So the day came, and I kissed my love goodbye. I got into “Yao Ming’s” van and reluctantly began my trip back to the states. I wasn’t alone. As most of my new friends had been on year-long contracts, they were all leaving simultaneously, and I was on the same US flight with three of them. This was sad too. It was the end of an era. The group that was there my first six months, was just an awesome group of people and the magic we had never returned. Sure, there were other foreign experts that came and went over the years, some of which became friends, but our little round tables of deep discussion disappeared. I look back to that time fondly.

The trip home was a long journey. When I came to China, I had booked the ticket, but the University booked the return flight. They chose the absolute slowest trip possible (there always seemed a predisposition to making life difficult for us). From Baoding, China to Stafford Springs, CT, it took me 24 hours of straight flight time, but the worse part was the layovers (3 of them). All told, it took me three full days to get home. The worse was the layover in Newark, NJ. This last leg’s flight time was only one hour, but the University somehow managed to arrange a 6-hour layover. I arrive in Newark at 2 am so the airport was empty, and nothing was open. I couldn’t help but chuckle. If I had driven home it would have taken just four hours and I came very close to renting a car and doing so, but I was on a China salary at the time, so I waited and watched the sunrise in Newark.

Of course, once home, it was good to see friends and family again and share with them my adventures, but that joy was very short-lived as the realities of life grew. I had to get to work. I enjoyed the job, but the hours were tough. I had to be there very early. I think the shop opened at 6 am when it was still dark. The hours made seeing friends difficult. I also had a bit of reverse culture shock. Everyone was speaking English and it was so easy to get things, but you couldn’t bargain (everything is negotiable in China). After being able to filter out the Chinese for so long, being bombarded with English from all sides is strange and it takes some time to be able to tune it out again. But the biggest difference is I just disappeared back into the mass of Americans. No one noticed me anymore, I didn’t sick out. The foreigner parade ended and I went from a celebrity and respected teacher (in China, there are few roles more respected) to a bottom of the ladder laborer where no one noticed me. Those two months were incredibly hard. I missed my new life of intrigue and adventure, and more importantly, I missed my love so very much. Communication over the landline was scratchy and spotty and made worse by the time difference. We talked nightly, probably to the detriment of my parents’ phone bill, but they were understanding. My wife speaks English so well now that most people can’t tell she was born in China, but back then, she wasn’t as proficient and we lost all the contexts clues. Misunderstandings ran amok.

Looking back, it was probably a good test for us. Our love was fast and burned bright. The separation allowed us both to take a moment and see how genuine our feelings were. But let me tell you, as soon as I was in the states, I knew without a doubt that it wasn’t just infatuation. It was true. I couldn’t wait to get back home. Yes, China was becoming my home even then.

The time away was difficult, and I hated every moment of it, but as I said above, I had a mission. Even before leaving China, I had decided I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this girl, and this time away only cemented my determination. But for that to happen, I needed a ring, and the only logical way was making some American dollars. I didn’t tell anyone about this, not even my parents (so they were a bit surprised when I told them the news over the phone when I was back in China, but we’ll get to that later). I guess I was afraid they would try to talk me out of it. Looking back, it was a bit crazy, but I didn’t care, and I am glad my heart won out in that struggle.

To make a long story short (more like two months of hell), I banked some cash for the student loans and, more importantly, got a ring. It was an exciting time. I didn’t know exactly when I would propose, but I was prepared when the opportunity arose. I would find the most romantic way I could think of, get down on one knee, and start another chapter in my life.

I said goodbye to the US, knowing it would be a while before I would return (perhaps never), and hoped on the plane. It was another long flight, but I made it back to China without incident, more experienced, and better prepared than the first time. Juxtaposed to my first journey, my luggage was the first up the belt, I kid you not. Before I knew it, I was back in Yao Ming’s van. This time I wasn’t crowded in the back with a group of Japanese. It was just me and the driver. In two hours, I would be back to my new home, in the arms of my love, right on schedule.

Wait a minute. Hold on. Don’t forget this is me in China. Did you think it would be that easy? Everything above is correct, my trip back to China was without incident, but this time the problem would arise during the van trip to Baoding. We hit traffic and not just a little traffic. We hit full-on standing still for hours China traffic. When something like this happens in China, it is never just a minor inconvenience. For example, when it snows, rains too hard, or is foggy, they just shut down the entire highway. Sometimes for days. Need to go someplace? Too bad. It makes traveling in the winter a bit nerve-wracking. It was probably late August, and I don’t know what was causing this mess, but it didn’t look good.

I checked my watch. I was supposed to be back in Baoding two hours ago, yet we were still just barely outside Beijing and not moving. I had no way to let my future wife know that I was going to be late. She knew when I was to arrive and roughly when I should be back, but I wasn’t going to be there. As I sat staring at the tail lights of the cars in front of us, in my mind, I could see her standing outside Dàbáilóu waiting for me, and as the hours passed, she was probably starting to think that maybe everyone was right and I wasn’t coming back. I knew that I would get back eventually and it is not like I didn’t have an excuse, but I hated to put her through that and it certainly wasn’t how I envisioned our long-anticipated reunion.

Suddenly, Yao Ming gets out of the van. I look about. Where’s he going? I don’t know. He wasn’t much of a talker, and my Chinese was poor at best. Is he leaving me here? Who knows. The traffic certainly wasn’t making him in a good mood. I have my luggage, so this time I have some food and cash, but that isn’t going to do me a whole lot of good if he strands me on a highway in the middle of Hebei Province surrounded by cornfields. Don’t laugh, it could have happened. Anything can happen in China.

I look around and see a car roughing it through a field in a flurry of dust. In China, it only takes one leader before that collectivism takes hold and it quickly turns into a mass exodus. As if we were in a race, Yao Ming jumps back in smelling of cigarette smoke, which explains where he was and elucidates the extent of my Scorpio imagination. He says something I didn’t catch and does what everyone else is doing. He revs the engine, turns the wheel, and decides to test the off-road capabilities of an early 2000s Dodge mini-van.

So, here I am back in China for a mere few hours and already I am in a mini-van driving through some poor farmer’s freshly harvested field, furrows and all, being tossed all over the place. The van is clunking and scrapping and doing things a min-van has probably never done before or since. Dust is everywhere. Both sides have cars struggling through the same terrain. We’re racing a black Honda sedan with tinted windows on the left and an early 90’s Volkswagen to the right. It was like being in a Mad Max movie, except I’m in a freakin mini-van with Yao Ming at the wheel. Am I still on the plane dreaming?

We finally reach the end of the field and a hedgerow. We turn right, and just like that, it turns from a Mad Max movie into a slow caravan twisting through bone-dry fields. The paths (I can’t call them roads) are unmaintained, full of ruts, and cut by streams. At times we are blocked by tractors, at other times, by flocks of geese. Village after village watches our passing with slack-jaw expressions. I wave at a dirty little girl, and she runs away crying and terrified most likely always to remember the day the great white foreigner passed through town. We stayed on these antiquated donkey tracks all the way back to Baoding. It took an additional four uncomfortable hours of praying the van would hold together, but at least we were moving, and I think, in the right direction. The only silver lining was I got to see some of the countryside life often hidden from outsiders. Places I probably wouldn’t have seen otherwise. It was like stepping back in time and was a rare gift. Those areas and ways of life are quickly becoming extinct in the modernizing era.

By the time we get to Baoding, it’s dark. We pull into Dàbáilóu, and I don’t see her. My heart sinks. I’ll have to search for her and explain what happened. But as I get out of the van, I hear my name from behind. I turn, and there’s my love running towards me. She jumps into my arms like it’s a movie, and we hug and kiss. Finally, I’m truly home. Over the last 15 years, we haven’t left each other’s side.

Be sure to check back soon for my next post. I’m back in China, and I have a ring that’s getting hot and trying to burn a hole in my pocket. Plans are stirring, but as with everything in my experience in China, nothing will go as anticipated.

Cheers!