Shanghai Weekend #2

If you're ever living in China and go to the Shanghai-Pudong airport to fetch someone, you should know that there are completely separate arrivals stations for domestic and international arrivals and only one little sign to indicate this.
I happened to arrive at the airport two hours before the before did, although my life being what it is, he ended up waiting for me for about 45 minutes.
Time is never on my side.
When you factor in his plane's 30 minute premature arrival as well as my stupidity in missing the aforementioned sign, I was not a very welcoming host.
We were finally off and on our way to the Shanghai Hotel Indigo. Hotel Indigo is my favorite brand, not just under IHG, but in the world of hotels. They are distinctly boutique and always well-designed. The service is great without having uptight staff.
It's the kind of brand a girl that bores of working in chain hotels, but doesn't want to lose her travel discount, dreams of.
Anyway.
Our room was designed as if it were a studio apartment: brick walls, day bed serving as a couch, a quarter canopy over the bed, a super fab desk area, and the most awesome view of the Bundt you could possibly get (and did I mention the walk-in shower that has a floor to ceiling window to show it off?).
I could probably use the rest of this post to go on and on about the hotel, but I will let you experience it for yourself sometime or just check out there site here.
The next morning he surprised me with American cereal he had brought from home (heck yes!) and we headed off to have breakfast at a place called A Future Perfect.
Now, I would also love to continue the rest of this post ranting and raving about how fabulous our breakfast was there, except we never made it.
Yeah, we got lost and in the haste of our hunger settled on a random cafe with mediocre food.
This made me particularly sad because I like to go to Shanghai for the food. Shanghai is cool and all, but there really isn't anything more important to me, a girl that lives in a relatively small China town with little access to decent food, than the international food scene.
So, we ate our mediocre food and then got lost some more on our way to try to go to a temple that ended up being too busy and too expensive for us to care to go to anymore. In the end, we spent most of the day on the subway and part of it at People's Park, which is essentially the Central Park of Shanghai.

I told you, the New York of Asia.
Along the way, I made sure he tried a few of my favorite things: Yakult, Green Apple flavored Fanta (or "fen dah" as the Chinese say), Bueno Bars, and the CoCo stand's milk tea.
And he kept on in a game of "Can you smell that?"
I know I've complained about how the water just reeks of pollution, as does the air, and the occasional disgusting smell of weird Chinese food or spoiling, well, whatever.
I'm happy to report that by this point those smells no longer existed.
Well, as long as my nose knew they didn't.
Unfortunately this wasn't the case for Nick who was a constant reminder that I could no longer smell these fumes.
"You can't smell that?"
"There's no way you can't smell that one."
"I can't believe you're practically Chinese now that you nose has turned."
Okay, that last one was a little harsh.
I wonder if I was that obnoxious when I first arrived. It's okay, Nick, I forgive you.
That evening, Nick had his first try of the amazing soup-filled dumplings at Din Tai Fung.

Fortunately for you, you don't have to go all the way to Shanghai to enjoy one of my new favorite restaurants on the planet. They also have a location in Los Angeles and Seattle. 

So, in all probability, you only have to fly across the country instead of around the world. 

And it's worth it. 

I assure you. 

We wrapped up our last night in Shanghai by going to the Apple store so Nick could get his cult fix, but also brag to his co-workers back at his home Apple store and, finally, up the Oriental Pearl Tower. 

Standing at 1,535 feet, the Oriental Pearl Tower is a sight to see among over 3,000 sky scrapers in Shanghai. And because this is China, it is much prettier at night. Just as a refresher: the Chinese love their neon lights in the night sky, plus it makes you forget about all the smog you're breathing into your lungs.
I was deathly afraid of the glass floor and consistently ridiculed with each child that ran by in utter happiness at the thought of running across the city of Shanghai at over 1,500 feet, with no regard of what I was sure was pending doom from running along glass at that height.
I was ready for bed or alcohol.
But a bed actually sounded better since I had already probably sweat out all my water weight that day.
In fact, I'm ready for it now just thinking about it.

Suzhou Week 10/26 (Shanghai)

My manager was having a particularly moody day on Friday and when these come along, she often takes it out on me by following me around for the day and criticizing the stupidest things.
"Why are you standing there? Go polish plates."
"You can't polish plates right now, we have a guest." (Mind you there are four people working the floor that could attend to this solitary guest's needs)
"Why don't you ever polish plates correctly."
Usually, when she gets upset with me she acts like many of you mothers do: "go play in your room I'm too frustrated to see you right now." Or, if you're a particularly fun parent, "why don't you go play in the street?"
For me, it's, "just go polish the plates." This is basically, "I'm going to banish you to the back to be by yourself and think about what you did while you polish plates alone for an hour."
The punishment isn't all that effective since, well, now they force me to wear heels, so I get to sit down when I do this.
I also get to message back and forth with people at home in between dishes.
Most importantly, she doesn't usually come back there.
Oh, well. I didn't care. As soon as 3:30 came, I was out of there.
The room mate and I were headed to Shanghai for a fun weekend out of Suzhou and in an international city.
Better yet, karma came to bite her when she was so stricken with lady cramps that she went home early (score!).
I couldn't change out of my uniform fast enough. I grab my bag out of my locker, we hailed a taxi and we were gone to the Suzhou train station.
We were taking the bullet train into Shanghai which meant only 20 minutes instead of 45 minutes of travel time.
This also meant we were going to be going 300 kilometers an hour and every time a train passed a station, you could hear the roar as if you were standing next to a roller coaster track.
It was awesome.
I was unbelievable stoked.
Also, I imagine real estate near these lines is ridiculously cheap.
For my trip in a few weeks I much prefer the trains for travel instead of planes. More eco-friendly, the same price or cheaper than flying, and less security and safety issues - you only go through a metal detector looking for real weapons (as in not finger nail clippers or liquid containers larger than three ounces) before you wait in the lobby for your train to be called.
When your train is called, everyone forms a crowd in front of the ticket machines (very similar to a subway ticket machine). When the machines go green to allow people to go through, people press on and head downstairs outside to the platform. Within a minute or so, the train arrive, people get off, and you get on.
Even in second class, the seats were comfortable (like airline ones except way more leg room and more comfortable in general).
The whole experience was like using the subway, except instead of going across town, we went to a whole different city in just twenty minutes. It's just crazy!
We arrived and went through another subway ticket machine that cleared our tickets before lining up to sweat for 15 minutes in the taxi line. As we drove through the city in 5:00 traffic, I was grateful I lived in a small town like Suzhou, but also happy that I lived so close to what seriously appears as the China New York City.
The number of high rises are crazy. The availability of not only foreigners, but awesome foreign food is comforting.
While I quickly gained a sense of direction, I was still thankful to live in a smaller town like Suzhou that is easy to see a lot of especially on my bike. I will probably never see all of Shanghai.
We stayed with a family friend of the room mate's and went  to dinner with her at an Indonesian place. She and Grace are both native Malaysians so this food is familiar for them. I had a blast trying new food that, despite what it looked like, tasted awesome. I had a great sauteed chicken dish, Indonesian salad, soup that I didn't want to know what was in it, not-so-awesome tofu (but when is tofu ever good?), and an interesting coconut milk dessert which was great even though I don't usually like coconut milk.
We went to the supermarket to pick up a few things for the weekend and it was then that I envied her living in Shanghai. The availability of more western items is so nice, granted it is more expensive just like in Suzhou. But still, just knowing they are there to splurge on sometimes is nice. Before the weekend ended I successfully avoided buying Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Doritos, but opted for Honey Com, Nutella, Raisinets, and Reese's Pieces (I couldn't help myself).
We spent most of Saturday walking.
If you've got the time, it's always the best way to really soak in the city. Get a glimpse of a day in the life, get lost, stumble on cool things.
First we had breakfast at this little cafe near the French Concession called Cafe Vienna. It was a super awesome little place that served a set international breakfast, as in, I got to enjoy bottomless awesome coffee, some eggs, and wheat toast with an amazing mixed berry jam.
From there we roamed a while before we reached a park that feature a huge lawn (a China rarity) as well as a small rose garden.

And then we walked some more until we reach a little street with lots of vendors selling old stuff. Grace was really into these neat vintage cameras and I was just perusing, really. Although, like with many countries, in these little shopping districts, you can't look long before someone is upon you trying to haggle out a deal. Generally, I was told to cut off 80%.
Yep, 80%.
They will haggle, rationalize the price, make you feel like you are trying to cheat them, but, in the end, if you standing firm between the passing of the calculator, or even walk away, they give in.
It's all in the fun, I guess.
We roamed through another larger, more modern and Chinese-looking shopping district (stopping for some dairy queen and then watermelon from a street vendor) before a promenade on The Bundt.
Essentially a large walkway on the river that divides the city, the view The Bundt offers is one that you would imagine looking at NYC. I'm telling you, this is the Asia New York.

We took the tourist tunnel across which is basically like taking a little subway train car as slow as Spaceship Earth that makes about as much sense as the Figment Ride at EPCOT.

Essentially, transportation with entertainment that was designed by people on acid, surely.
Think lots of electric lights and weird videos.
Kind of expensive, too, at 50 RMB a person. It was quirky, but I'm glad we did it, although I wouldn't say it's a must-do.
We stopped for a snack at this giant 7-story mall that feature this restaurant with soup dumplings. I wasn't sure how to eat them, but if you ever get the chance, I don't recommend taking a bite of about half of it.

I essentially snorted all the soup as it shot into my nasal cavity.
At least it made for a good laugh.
We were a 20 minute walk from Grace's Aunt's place, so walk we did. And in the midst of those 20 minutes while walking on a not-very populated street, is how we ended up at the Shanghai-Pudong Police station with a complimentary ride in the cop car.
I reached in my backpack pocket to change the song on my iPhone. I listen to music in the background all day so I know if someone has taken my phone (the music will cut off).
I went to put it back and the music stopped, I looked down and my cord was hanging. As I often do, I had missed the pocket.
And it was in those 5 seconds before I turned around that some lucky and horrible person walking behind me took off with my phone.
And that makes 2 phones stolen in 3 months in China.
Fortunately, Nick was coming in the next week, but no more new phones for China-Madison. I'm inheriting an old 3G.
A local was nice enough to help us check around just in case, but it was no where to be found so he called the police for us who came, looked around, and told us to get in the car.
I was anxious since no one was giving me a translation break, but I got in after Grace, who told me we were going to the station to file a report.
I wondered why since there was no way we were going to find it, but when we crossed a room full of TV screens of cameras around the city, I wished I had reported the first one.
Their translator was out for the evening, fortunately I had Grace. Neither of us had a copy of our visas and she didn't have a copy of her passport, which worried me with all the new strict immigration laws they're passing, alas, I am writing this from my apartment in Suzhou, so I haven't been deported yet.
They were very apologetic and filed a detailed report, down to a description of my clothing in which they had to ask how to say what I was wearing on my head. Of course, I didn't realize what they were talking about until she laughed and pronounced "bandana."
They asked for a description of the phone, its case, and the serial number.
Since I didn't have the last one, I was practically SOL. By this point, the case was trash as well as my SIM card, but the serial number never leaves.
So if you're ever in China, or abroad, really, always carry a copy of your passport, visa, and the serial number for your phone on you.
Now you know.
Fortunately the police station put us a few blocks closer to the apartment building, so we hurried home before her aunt got too upset at us for taking so long (she had made us an awesome dinner with Apple pie).
She could tell I was upset and was quick to say, "Well, hey, there's nothing you can do about it. This is Asia after all."
Of course, for the most part, in the states someone would have picked that phone up for me or just left it. But not here. And apparently not in China or the rest of Asia.
Except Japan.
She told me that the number one thing at the police station is lost umbrella's. Yeah, people actually take people's lost umbrellas to the police station to report. They also told me the story of a woman that left her purse in a cab there. Late that night, the cabbie arrived after his shift to her doorstep to personally return her bag.
Why didn't I end up in Japan?
We took advantage of being in Shanghai the next day by eating Mexican for lunch. I felt so at home in that place it was crazy. Mostly because it is near an expatriate living complex and didn't have a single Chinese person in there other than the staff, but also because of the decoration, the music and just the general feel of it all.
Grace made this amazing Malaysian cake that I really want to beg her to make for me when we are both back in the states and just ship to me from Vermont for Christmas or something.
As I was looking out at the amazing view of the sunset on The Bundt, 50 floors up, eating this delicious cake, I realized what a perfect weekend I had, despite the phone, and how gorgeous China can be sometimes.

You just have to look past the smog and the stealing, sometimes.

Club InterContinental Week 8/16

Well, look at that. I'm halfway through my longest term at one position.
This week was rather uneventful in the workplace.
I'm starting to gain a routine and go through many of the daily tasks without question or assistance, leaving only one or two that must be done with a co-worker on account of the language barrier.
I've also come to realize that in China, they value guest relations less than they do "customer service." I know they sound like the same thing and I would have agreed before I came here, but the more I learn about work culture here, they more I realize that in their systematic way of life and doing things, they have no idea how to interact with guests and only know how to perform service standards.
For example, when you go to a restaurant there are certain requirements of the staff depending on the quality of the establishment.
In China, the staff would certainly put the napkin in your lap, pour the wine with the label facing you for a taste, and serve the ladies of the table first.
But don't expect them to provide a five-star personality.
They're stand offish and do not initiate conversation or a welcome attitude.
In part, this is probably because the Chinese do not expect this and maybe they think they don't want this and they are too intimidated with their English to try such a thing with a foreign guest.
As much as I would like to excuse them for the first, I simply can't from my own experience which stands to invalidate the second reason.
Chinese guests that don't know much English understand that I don't speak much Chinese. They understand that I'm not going to start a conversation with them and force them to use their second language. Most of the time however, they understand my hand motions when I perform basic service and are appreciative that I take the time to ask if their food or stay was good (I get around the language by saying "good?" with inflection, most of them know that word at least and know how to say "yes" and "no" afterwards, while motioning towards the plate). About of quarter of them even start a conversation with me to practice their own English and have someone to genuinely engaged with. Something I have noticed them do with the other workers (in Chinese of course), but judging from their body motion, the staff is quick to cut these conversations short rather courteously.
As far as westerners, their English has improved quite a bit since my arrival. They are able to carry on conversations with ease yet I've noticed that they only speak more than basics to only one westerner who happens to be dating one of their bosses.
Sidenote: While I'm quick to go out for fun with guests (I'm always open to new friends, especially in a foreign country), I'm surprised that the property even allows a manager to date a guest. Personally, I don't think I could ever see myself getting into that situation, but even if I did, I'm not sure it's completely professional on the part of the hotel. But, hey, I'm just the intern. What do I know?
Each side of the guest coin has noticed this coldness. They all say something along the lines of, "the staff is nice and quick to provide service, much better than any hotel I stay at in China, but as a frequent guest, it bothers me that you are the first one at this hotel, at the club level, that takes the time to talk to me and inquire how work is going or even take the time to get to know my life outside of work and the hotel."
So, when I was yelled at twice this week for talking to guests for too long, it peeved me to say the least.
My job is rather mundane and often has huge periods of inactivity, so I have to say that here (and really all my other hotel jobs), my favorite part is talking to our frequent guests. These are people I build a fun relationship with that often teach me a lot about the world and their work and usually have some great stories as frequent travelers. I highly value these relationships and, frankly, each hotel I've worked for has, too. You would too if it ensured your frequent guests kept coming to your hotel versus the others.
So, this reprimand was the first of its kind I had ever received.
"You talk to guests too much, we are too busy."
"But, dear manager, we had no other guests on the floor and no other work to do."
"It is breakfast time, there is no time to talk to guests."
"But, dear manager, you say the same thing when it is dinner time."
"The guests don't have time to be bothered by you."
"But, dear manager, I never extend a conversation that isn't welcome and, honestly I spend 90% of the time listening."
"I said you talk too much, leave the guests alone."
Okay.
It hurt my feelings and also made my outlook on the next half of this position rather gloomy.
But I have to admit, it made me feel better that two of our guests mentioned that the rest of the staff treats them like they are just the furniture and they don't matter since they stay so much. They said they were frustrated with coming all the time and the staff still doesn't know their name.
I felt horrible that they felt this way, but, still, better to know that, at least to someone, I was doing the right thing. My room mate's family friend works a respected position at IHG corporate in Shanghai. I was particularly thankful to have the chance to talk with her and gain a lot of insight on my frustrations with the internship. I told her I was grateful to have such an excellent opportunity to work abroad, but frustrated with many of the different aspects of my job and had even come to the realization recently that I'm bored out of my mind working in front office, in China or stateside, and no longer have any desire of being a front office manager in my next move.
She said that, in China, they lack the "soft skills," and no one knows how to train them. Back home, most of my managers would argue that they can't be trained and they hire on the basis of personality and train the rest.
Often I would agree, but after hearing that I didn't know what I wanted to do and then the list of things I didn't want to do, she suggested speaking with our training manager to gain some insight on what he does and consider that for a career option and maybe even developing a soft skill curriculum with him.
Hmm.
I also told her how I would have never considered being a food and beverage intern, but, even in another culture, I seem to have made more friends in the kitchen that in the front office. This happened at home too, I often relate much more with the creativity and easy-going environment of the food and beverage department, but my skin crawls with the prospect of actually working with food.
I'm just not a foodie.
As I thought about it, though, I realized that the most fun I had and the things I were most interested in doing at my last job were working with our catering manager and our chef on different events. I didn't do much, I was basically a day-of assistant, er student, really as I learned more than I probably helped.
With this in mind and the fact that, down the line I want to teach, I feel like I have finally started using the things I don't like to find the things that I do like to build a future.
For every time I told a professor, "I don't care about Asia, I will never go there," I am now grateful that they were there to support me when it became my first job out of college.
For every time I told my food and beverage professor or a chef or any other colleague, "I will never work in food, I can only microwave my own meals much less deal with other peoples," you were right and I should have listened to you when you said to at least consider it.
For every boss, friend, and numerous guests that mentored me in the discovery of the things I hated to find what was left to like and learn more about the world of opportunities (literally) available out there, thank you for seeing what I couldn't see in myself, I will always be grateful for your efforts, advice, conversations, and inspiration.
Truly, thank you.
So as I get ready to go on vacation for a week and a half in a couple weeks, I also have to start to consider where to go from here and begin to initiate the hunt for my life post-China when I get back. I feel a bit of relief in allowing myself to cut front office out of the search.
Since I have so much front office experience, I fear this will bring less opportunity, but I guess there's no time like the present to try and move to a different area.
I'm looking forward to it with a fresh and open mindset and welcome all options or thoughts you think I should consider.
What have I got to lose, right?
Here's to great people, awesome conversations, and new adventures.
Much love.

Suzhou Week 9/26

They say you learn a lot about yourself when you are away from your home, your bubble.
On Saturday evening, a group of our guests invited me to join them on their day off the following day playing around town.
I was off and would have spent the day biking around by myself, so I agreed.
I waited in the lobby until their conference call was over that morning and we headed out.
In a brand new Mercedes.
It was then that I knew I was going to have a much more fun day than anticipated.
We headed off to Tiger Hill, one of Suzhou's more popular attractions. Nestled in the hills of Suzhou, it's basically a giant tower surrounded by some really pretty grounds within the complex. There's lots of street food at the exit as well as little kitschy shops, so it was pretty neat.
Afterwards, we landed in Li Gong Di. This is essentially expat row. It is 80% foreign restaurants such as Italian or Mexican, with about 75% of those being a bar, sometimes with it's respective country's atmosphere.
Our first spot was an modern Chinese bar that even offered hookah as you spent your time eating snack food and drinking on sofas. Like a Starbucks bar, of sorts. They talked me into letting them order a beer for me, which I generally don't drink.
And here is where I learned a Madison lesson.
Stubborn to the bone, I've never let anyone push me to drink when I don't want to. Having a personal rule to drink only when the sun is down, I realized when I accepted the beer at 2 pm that I was going to be relaxing some morals.
Not even my closest friends could get me to do this, why them? Because they are new acquaintances who offered me a day of hospitality and it would be rude not to drink with them, even if it was beer (yuck) and we were starting at 2 pm (frick).
So, in the end, manners to new people wins over my friends, I guess.
This happened in Paris as well as I continued drinking wine much further past my personal limit (not my capacity limit, just a line that I don't really feel like drinking anymore) so I would not be rude to the French hosts.
And it is with these new friends, that, for the first time in my life, I drank for 7-8 hours straight, starting in the middle of the day, and, with all things, a beer.
After about an hour of picking their brains on their career path (I love talking about how people ended up having the chance to work abroad so I can pick up repetitive details that would help my own career) and talking about friends and family back home, we moved to a German bar.
A German bar that featured pretzels hanging from chandeliers in an all dark wood interior that had the set-up of a church bar if you could imagine such a thing. Or, better yet, like the dining hall in Harry Potter, minus the awesome ceiling and food that appears out of nowhere.
Everyone moved to harder liquor here, so I opted for what I could bear to consume that was within the same price limit that everyone else had order - they had been paying for everything all day.
A rum and coke it is.
After 1.5 of those, Jaggermeister shots landed on the table.
I couldn't remember ordering these. I was pretty clear minded at this point and was quite sure I would not have order them even if I wasn't, having avoided the cough syrup since I first had it on my 21st birthday. I looked around and everyone had one as one of the men had ordered a round for everyone. At this point I not only pitied myself but the poor Chinese girl they had talk into ordering a Long Island Iced Tea, saying only that it "wasn't quite like Chinese black tea, but you should try it" with smirks on their faces.
Well, I couldn't deny a drink already bought in front of my hosts.
Bottoms up.
Other than the bar food we had (popcorn, banana chips, spring rolls, and something I can only describe as shrimp flavored pork rinds except better tasting than you would initially imagine), I had nothing solid on my stomach and was trying to avoid being obvious as I only sipped through my second rum and coke (hence the .5). Finally, one of them suggested heading for an early Italian dinner (carbs, yes, just what I need to slow this alcohol down).
We were off again, heading just a mile around the lake to a pretty nice Italian place. I ate bread as soon as it came to the table. I know it is rude to take it first and even to eat more than the hosts, but I was growing particularly anxious about being sick and/or obnoxiously drunk in front of my very kind hosts who, in their range of 40-50 years of life experience, were handling this much better than myself.
It wasn't long before more alcohol landed on the table. White wine.
Now, I was getting nervous.
Beer, hard liquor, and now wine.
There was no way this was going to end well, but as least I had food coming so, toast away.
My hosts were really excited to have me experience my first Chinese foot massage that day and there was a place just next door, so we all stumbled over. And by this point, our leading male was stumbling with slightly slurred, but hilarious verbage. I was feeling a little better about myself now.
We all took our place in a room of very comfortable arm chairs and propped our feet on our own footrests. The therapists (all males) marched in carrying buckets of hot water for us to place our feet in and then move to sit on the foot rests while they massaged our neck and backs. Afterwards, we relaxed in the chairs as  girl brought in TsingTao (pronounced "Ching Dow" with the "ow" in "dow" sounding like the "ow" of "meow"), a regional light Chinese beer that we serve at the club level, but that I've never tried. It was okay for beer. The leading female was kind enough to offer to split the can so I didn't feel obligated to drink the entire thing that had already been order, and avoid my being rude.
Boy, was I grateful for that.
And so, we went on to enjoy the next amazing hour and a half of one of the greatest, most relaxed, massages of my life. If you're ever in China, go get one, even if it means missing the Great Wall or something. Do it.
The male fell asleep for most of his (I think I even fell asleep for a few minutes as well), even snoring a bit, which reminded me of my own dad back home and gave me an even greater sense of gratitude to spend the day with someone that reminded me of enjoying time with my dad and a woman that reminded me so much of one of my great friends back home that is around her same age (early forties).
The lead male tried to get our taxi driver to let the five of us squeeze into one taxi, but driving laws are very strict in China with heavy punishment, so he wasn't having it, even for the short distance. As I rode with the girls back home, a sense of extreme gratitude not only for their hospitality, but my newfound companions who gave me a taste of home.
I felt as if I had just spent the day with some of my closest friend back home, tearing up the town one laugh/drink at a time. It really made me miss home, but at the same time, gave me a better sense of home in Suzhou as we explored parts of town I had yet to see.
With this, I was determined to be able to better assist other foreigners on their trip to Suzhou, so I wanted to become even more familiar with where I lived. I spent the only two days that weren't raining this week taking advantage of my bike card and biking around the lake, taking in the beautiful scenery of the newer part of Suzhou where I live (We call it the SIP bubble). The Suzhou Industrial Park was built by Singapore companies with excellent strategic design, westernized scenery and living, hence the bubble of SIP versus old town Suzhou.
I had the chance to see some gorgeous sights as well as see where many of the expats live around the lake. As I rode I also had the chance to witness a hidden inlet filled with Chinese who had taken their kids and families to swim in the disgusting lake (swimming is prohibited, hence the secluded spot). They were having a blast though, so who was I to judge?
I also realized that many paths in China end in dead ends and overgrown and/or damaged infrastructure, forcing me to back track many times.
But I thoroughly enjoyed the sites, the sunburn, and the spent calories to still be appreciative.
It was great to have a new love and appreciation for Suzhou before we headed off to Shanghai for the weekend.

Club InterContinental Week 7/16

There are few times in my life when I feel an extreme sense of freedom as when I went home sick from high school, contemplated and consequently skipped class in college on the basis of nice weather (or better yet, having cancelled class), or, now that I am finished with each, getting sent home from work.
Yes, it feels just as freeing in China as it does in the states.
Actually it feels better because I'm technically still getting paid.
I'm supposed to work 40 hours every week. Occasionally, I am schedule only one day off in a week.
I know not everyone is a math expert, so before I make you pull out your calculator, that would mean I am going 8 hours over my 40 hour work week.
Overtime doesn't really exist in China. So, now, the hotel "owes" me hours, eight of them, to be exact. By sending me home early when we were over-staffed, they have eliminated four of these "debt hours."
So, while I was paid the extra money in my monthly paycheck, it wasn't multiplied as overtime. They were just normal hours.
Also, there is no PTO. You just work a lot to make up for time you're going to be gone.
So, even though I'm not working. I was already paid the money for the rest of the day I won't be working.
Crazy, I know.
But still.
What a great start to the work week.
The next day was the worst of the typhoon and I struggled just to remain upright walking from the bus to the hotel. The wind had kept me up most of the few previous nights so I was pretty exhausted. Never in my life have I heard such a wind, it sounded like the sobs of an old woman attending a funeral.
That was a little specific, but still.
It was a loud and horrendous shrill.
This week also began the mandatory make-up policy.
For those of you that know me, I don't do make-up, so I'm not down with this.
Pro of working in the U.S.: threatening to sue over equal opportunity employment laws.
Con of working in China: No equal opportunity employment laws
In essence, I can't legally bitch about being forced to wear make-up.
This policy also requires us to wear the company-issued heels as opposed to black flats that everyone finds and buys themselves to wear instead. Having bad knees, I also kind of hate this as it means I probably won't be able to do any running now.
I could probably fight my way through each of these, citing eye allergies to mascara and the knee injury for the heels, but I feel as though that would not be very acceptable to the boss.
No matter what I do here in China, the first hurdle I have to jump is language, and this is a big, bitch of a hurdle. I have to ensure that I speak basic-level English and just hope that it is understood as intended, which happens 40% of the time.
Even if I brought up the issue to the boss and even if they completely understood enough to let the stupid thing go, it would be a deep and bad mark on their memory for a future recommendation for international work. Essentially, it makes me appear inflexible to other cultures.
And this is definitely cultural.
The Chinese place a lot on how you look and a "professional" look is essential to getting ahead, especially for women, who are still not thought of as completely on the same plane as men (close, but no cigar). A "professional" look requires panty hose, heels, and make-up - across the board. These women truly believe it is part of moving up, just as we value education and experience for promotion material.
I've never been a huge China fan, which is why it is weird for me to end up here as my first job out of college. It makes me feel a little guilty since I have so many friends that are just crazy about this country and even actually speak the language really well, yet I'm the one here, not them.
For me, China is a means to an end. It is the place I work not really because I've been dying to, but because I'm willing to do it to work in a country where I am dying to be.
Don't get me wrong, I love the experience of working in another country and I don't hate China, but I do have to admit I'm using it for something else.
I guess that's why I can justify going against my personal make-up morals for the next three and a half months.
Here's to natural beauty and all the countries that embrace it.

Suzhou Week 8/26

Ordinary are the days that end with fetching boiling hot water from the first floor of my building to replenish my drinkable water supply. I don't even smell the pollutants in the shower water anymore. Nor do I notice or smell the smog in the air. I'm pretty sure I can no longer hear the honking horns nor the sound of someone hocking up phlegm-filled spit nearby.
Just kidding on the last one, I don't think I will ever get used to that.
Thanks to my roommate who was willing to lend not only her time, but her language skills, I have now acquired a bike card. Like many major cities, Paris included, Suzhou has a bike rental system that allows you to "check out" a bike from a station to use and "check in" to another station.
The great thing about the Suzhou system is that your first 90 minutes are free. Now I can't imagine why I would ever need a bike to take me farther that an hour's ride away (especially with the bus and subway available), so I don't plan on recharging my card, well, ever.
And the whole thing was 200 RMB ($30 USD), plus 10 RMB for the card itself (less that $5 USD).
Not a bad deal.
Maybe when Memphis gets more bike lanes, we can jump in on this.
Anyway, it feels great to have +1 on my independence scale. Lifting just a little dependence on the hotel shuttle, taxis, and public transportation makes me a little happier.
Afterwards, we went to Auchan (basically Wal-Mart) and used the roommate's gift card. We spent the entire 200 RMB on junk food in preparation for a few movie nights ahead, what with it being ridiculously hot outside and a typhoon approaching. Since I had a coupon, we had Papa John's for dinner while we watched "He's Just Not That Into You."
Perfect girls night in the little American box of a home we have amongst the Chinese.
On Monday, we put our cards to use and biked to another Mexican place for lunch, Zapata's. It was pretty good, but still, no cheese dip, so I won't be going back. Afterwards we headed to the Humble Administrator's Garden, where we probably had the most fun taking stupid pictures, people watching, and climbing into a boat that was just floating in the pond. We made a few new friends with that last one.

If you're ever in Suzhou, this is one of the "have to" gardens. It was pretty neat and had some cool trinket stands outside the front run by local craftsmen.
We biked over to my favorite place, the Momi Cafe, for the greatest caramel frappe while I wrote out some postcards. We ran into one of her co-workers who graciously wrote the symbol for "America" at the top of all my postcards to ensure that they made it to the right country.
Whew.
With still another coupon in hand and some adventurous spirit left, we decided to bike all the way from the Momi Cafe to the Papa John's next to the hotel. This was at least 8 miles, probably more. We picked up some bread from the bread shop and went to sit in the restaurant while we waited on our pizza, feeling disgusting yet good about all the dry sweat on our body. We were going to deserve our pizza that night.
I convinced her that we should ride our bikes to the apartment instead of waiting another 30 minutes on the bus, when we could probably get home in 30 minutes AND burn more calories doing it. I swore that I saw a bike station just a block before the apartment.
I could have swore it was there.
Alas, an hour of biking later (mind you, she had spent the previous two days going for a run and was absolutely exhausted), there was no bike station in sight of the complex. After a quick consultation with a local and the station map, we had long passed the last station on the way to the apartments.
Frick.
With only 30 free minutes remaining on the bikes we hauled ass as best as our sore bodies would allow and made it just under the 90 minute mark. At this point, we had back tracked 3 miles at least and were far too burned out to walk the distance at 9:00 PM with a work day that required a 4:00 AM alarm.
Being the guilty room mate that got us into this, I payed for the cab that we called to come fetch us (which was a woman driver, quite the rarity).
We practically fell out of that cab.
I can't believe we even woke up the next morning.
We've spent the rest of this week resting from that day and planning for our trip to Shanghai next weekend.
Well, I have a day off that I plan on starting to enjoy pretty early, much love.

Club InterContinental Week 6/16

Every month, two chatty women come up to the club to take inventory. By take inventory, I mean, interrupt our entire day to count every bit of every item we have.
Towels.
Dishes.
Glasses.
Bottles of Juice.
Bags of coffee.
They act like the police looking for drugs. Dying to find something out of place or peer into a closet that hosts nothing of inventoried stock.
Shoo, fly.
I haven't taken inventory since my first job at a movie theater. If I remember correctly, we did it every flipping night.
I must admit, it improved my math skills.
Although, counting packaged popcorn tubs is much easier and more efficient that stacks and stacks of plates and rows upon rows of glasses.
I wrote in my notes to say something about bull fighting.
I have no idea what that is about.
Sometimes I wonder what the hell is going on in my head. Many of you may use the phrase, "what was I thinking?" although I can't be sure that logical processing was going on when I wrote "bull fighting" in my notes for a blog on China.
Moving on.
The bus drivers are not happy.
I know you're wondering why I give a damn, but I happen to like them. They always smile and say hello to me, so I return the favor with a "chey chey" (thank you) whenever we arrive to work or the apartments. I guess, because of this, they are the only ones that excitedly smile and say hello to me down in the staff canteen.
Well, them and the dishwasher - a very old woman who, like the bus drivers, speaks not a word of English.
Which leads me to believe that if the only people that acknowledge me like that are the ones that don't speak my language, maybe I should shut up more or something.
Whatever.
At least you're listening.
So, the human resources department has decided they are no longer allowed to eat in the staff canteen.
The result?
Our bus driver never shows. Or he is 15 minutes late. Or he disappears with the bus for hours on end.
Leaving us stranded, forced to use a taxi, collect the receipt, and get paid by the finance department.
One taxi ride alone surely costs more than it would to feed an additional three people (mind you there are ALWAYS leftovers anyway).
Oh, China logic.
Well, I'm not the boss, so I don't say anything.
I'm just the intern.
Much love!

Suzhou, New And Old

I came home to fresh cut grass the other day.

In case you were wondering, it smells just as amazing here as it does in the states.

I love how that smell lifts memories of summer out of the past and into the present, out of North America and into Asia.

I was also walking along and passed a home where there was a lot of renovation going on, I immediately recognized the smell of a red spray glue that is used to apply laminate to a base wood. Another rush of summer memories spent with Dad at the shop.
It's crazy how we instantly know these smells even if it's been ten years since we've smelled them. 

I've also discovered "my part of town." It's in old town and it's called the Ping Jiang district. It's a historic district along one of the canals, featuring a pretty sweet cobblestone road and cafes, gelato shops, silk stores, and plenty of adorable little boutiques with some clothing and little trinkets.
There were even a few foreigners, so I felt a little at home.
Eventually I wandered into some of the slums where the staring ensued and foreigners disappeared. I walked along, watching a day in summer life go by in the slums. Lots of sitting or washing, maybe even peeling beans. I felt like I was in a village each time I saw a guy walk by with a wooden cart behind him or carrying a long tube for whatever balanced on his shoulder.
A village, right in the middle of a major metropolitan city. That's the weird thing about Suzhou, the old and historic is the center, with the new sky scrapers towering around.

I stumbled back into Ping Jiang and roamed into the Momi-Cafe. My new hang out. It's a coffee shop that blessed me with the best caramel frappe I've ever had in my life and amazing cheesecake. The walls are lined with quirky postcards to buy, trinkets, and journals. And every table features a cup full of colored pencils.
I love it there.
It feels as if I'm back at home and in mid-town Memphis.
From there I walked for a while until I was back in modern Suzhou. Modern Suzhou, where the people play with their kids in public fountains or set up cones to rollerblade through the plazas in front of corporate buildings or throw a dance party in the park.

Great spot for my nap

When I arrived at the last subway stop before the lake (essentially where I was headed to), I was shocked to see everyone glued to an outdoor television. Normally, this television is essentially an ad screen, but tonight, it was turned to the Olympic channel. And I laughed as I realized they were all intently watching Olympic Ping Pong.
Yep, Ping Pong.
So, I finished my day and fell asleep exhausted.

Fishing on the canal

When I got up to enjoy another day off, I headed to old town again, but this time, in the opposite direction toward Panmen Canal area. Essentially, lots of gorgeous walkways through a canal-side park. I even stopped to talk a 30 minute nap as I listened to waves crash against the canal wall each time a boat passed by. Lots of fisherman and old boats.
On my way back to the subway, I stopped in to have an awesome blackberry soda float at McDonald's (hey I may miss out on a lot, but at least I gain a sweet float) and then a tour through a small garden, one of many listed on the World Heritage gardens in Suzhou.
I headed out right before they closed with enough time to watch 5:00 traffic creep by as I walked along. On the subway, I lost a dear friend.

My poor Sanuks have seen many countries and crazy events, from Bonnaroo to France to California and the Grand Canyon, but it looks like they won't make it home to Memphis this time. I appreciate your condolences. They will be missed.
Grace and I have been dying for Mexican, so we celebrated getting paid (we only get paid once a month) at Casa Zoe. The food was great, but the only reason I had been wanting mexican was for some queso. Alas, fajitas, burritos, enchiladas, and nachos, even a little salsa, but no cheese dip.
I know, it's a crime.
We finished with enough time for her to go with me to get a hair cut. Since she speaks Chinese I really needed her help so they didn't chop all my hair off.

Mexican on a "Coffee Time"  plate

The funny thing about getting a hair cut in China is that you pay according to skill. If you want the front line person, you only pay 50 RMB ($8 USD), the middle person is 108 RMB ($15) and the manager is 168 ($25). For someone who pays about $50 for a haircut in the states, I was pretty ecstatic and decide to stay in the middle. The guy did an awesome job and was very nice. He even thought my torn shoes were "cool," believing the giant hole to be part of the design.
Ha. 

Club InterContinental Week 5/16

One of my favorite things about experiencing a new culture is seeing them have new experiences and understandings of the states and hearing these new people talk about mine.
I realized this week that my co-workers often prefer using a fork and a spoon over chopsticks. When we snack on the rice from breakfast or really any other Chinese dish, they never use chopsticks, usually a fork or spoon. We had an outing last week and while they were willing to ask for these utensils for my sake (before I even requested them myself, I figured I could go without as I'm quite competent with chopsticks), they wouldn't use them in front of each other or in public.
I guess, it is embarrassing to use them in front of your own kind. Of course, I'm blatantly American, so it's expected.
We also had the chance to dine at Riva. This is the hotel's Mediterranean Steakhouse. It is known as the best steak in Suzhou. Most of the customers are locals. Ironically, the "best steak in Suzhou" is at a Mediterranean Steakhouse that orders all their meat from Australia.
Australian meat at a Mediterranean restaurant in China.
Erin, one of the student workers, introduced a pretty cool Canadian video that hits off with a display of American politics and Christian subtexts throughout. How did she find this and I hadn't even heard of it yet?
Social networking. A micro blog.
Even in China, where neither Facebook nor Twitter legally exist, this girl is gaining access to these things through social media. It's just nuts.
Well, I thought I would share, so enjoy, "I, Pet Goat ii"



Weird, right?
Well, I've already Google a pretty comprehensive description for you. Here, you are. Yeah you're welcome:
Erin is a smart one. She's slightly more driven than the others and is vastly interested in other cultures. She is staying on past her student employment as our supervisor has agreed to give her weekends off so she can learn Spanish.
This is amazing because she not only speaks Mandarin, but really great English and learns more everyday. Most Chinese have no desire to learn a language beyond their own and English. They don't really have to, so why struggle through learning another latin language?
Just as we have a super difficult time understanding Chinese "vocal chops," they have an even harder time training their tongue for language instead of tones in the back of their throat. And I tend to slack on the tone in what little Chinese I can speak, now.
The Chinese dread languages like French and Spanish and are impressed that I am even capable of learning French. The nasal and the rolls in French and Spanish, respectively are super difficult.
Anyway.
Whenever I have an inquiry about something that requires blunt cultural courage, I ask her. She and Owen both are generally familiar with how Americans think and what I may find as strange or peculiar.
So one day I finally asked, "Why all the staring?"
Erin said because white people don't normally live in the complex, they live in much more expensive housing. She said it isn't because I look weird, it's because I really don't belong there, I belong with the other, rich, white people. All the white people here are expats, so naturally, they live farther in the city near work and the high-rent district.
Owen said because I definitely look American. He said, "chinese people really like America. When we see English or a 'may gwo' (American), we think of freedom. You have so much freedom. Even your hair, you can change it however you want, but ours will always be black, the girls can't really change the color. We can't really look that different."
Owen's words were a relief to hear that day.
The day before, Alex warned me about one of our guests. He asked if I saw the guy that looks like Benjamin Franklin with red hair.
Now, when I say red hair, I mean the color red of a fire truck. You know, that color red that you only see weird old men dye their hair.
"How could I miss him?"
Well, he was telling Hugo (the Portuguese food and beverage intern) to get while the getting was good because Chinese girls are very easy. Mind you, he was at the table with a Chinese woman. He was also calling for his waitress by shouting, "hey, sweet ass," across the restaurant.
What he lacks in tact and looks, he more than makes up for in money.
Sky asked me if he was an example of a sugar daddy- an explanation I had just given her last week - and I happily confirmed and added "gold digger" to her vocabulary to describe the different women he spent his time with.
I didn't heed Alex's warning too much as, well, I'm a snobby American that wouldn't put up with his crap. And he clearly knew that as he didn't say much to me. The girls were clearly made uncomfortable by his presence (word spreads very quickly through the girls locker room), so I took it upon myself to walk over whenever he demanded someone. He tried to be sneaky and only do this when one of the girls was nearby, but, they acted as if they didn't know English and fake-stuttered the worst English I've ever heard them speak as they said "one moment" as they came to get me.
It was hilarious.
When his German friend joined the table, he was quick to ask my nationality.
"Ah, the devil country."
Well, I have to admit that hurt and was honestly confusing, but I ignored it with a "um, sure."
His response was a question of whether or not I voted for Obama four years ago. He apologized to me and said I must be disappointed when I told him I did.
"Thank you for your condolences, but they're unnecessary, coffee or juice?"
"What part of the country are you from?"
"Memphis, TN"
"Ah, slavery."
"Actually, I guess no one sent you the telegram, but everyone has equal rights these days, except my homosexual friends, they're still waiting on theirs."
"Don't get me started on the gays. Coffee."
When I returned with his coffee (he should have thanked me for keeping it spit-free), he told me that since I'm American I probably only speak English.
I replied with, "actually I minored in French in college and speak it conversationally" (all in French).
While he was stunned with silence I decided to ask him where he was from, so I could remember who to associate with such pompous racial insensitivity. And with slightly accented French, he returned my question with another:
"Où tu pense?" (Where do you think?)
"Je ne sais pas, mais, possible, Allemagne?" (I don't know, but, maybe, Germany)
"Oui, presque la Fôret Noir." (Yes, near the Black Forest)
"Ah, maintenant je comprende pourquoi vous savez Français très bien." (Ah, now I understand why you know French so well).
The Brit looked on, lost. It was a relief to finally see that on someone else's face rather than to feel it on my own.
I decided to let it his rude and insensitive ways go until he made fun of Crishna, the 3 year old of one of our long-term guests. Crishna is an adorable boy who is mixed with gorgeously curly dark hair. When he came running down the hall to greet me with a high-five, the German commented, "Oh, here comes trouble."
A few moments later, he made another Obama crack.
"You know he's trouble when he looks just like that disappointment Obama."
"Well, good thing you're German, huh" I said with a huge smile.
"Actually I live in Singapore. Much better there, no blacks."
At this point, Benjamin Franklin chimed in with, "I hate it there. They don't have chewing gum. You can't smoke there. They fine you for jay walking and spitting, and they're always watching from the cameras. It's too bloody expensive there."
This began a debate on the pros and cons of living in Singapore: expensive and heavy on rules, but clean with high standards of living and no crime.
As for me, I was just happy to be living in a country that likes and respects America. I was suddenly grateful for my co-workers. And listening to Owen that night, I felt a little more respected and at home. Sure, they're pretty close-minded in general, but at least they aren't making me feel stupid for being an American.
They like me for it.

The Safety Net

The crazy thing about living in a country as, well, off, as China is that it's safer here.
I know, it sounds weird.
In the wake of the Batman shootings in Colorado, I've had a few croppings of concern for safety while I'm out here. Of course, one has to remind people that these things are happening in the states. Not in China.
Those things don't happen here.
Think about it.
When was the last time you heard about something like that in China?
Sure there's supression of the media, but really, the government is the only worry.
Those Denver shootings made international news. Every person I meet here asks if I have friends or family here.
Of course, in this wave of discussion, I also have to explain different positions on gun control when I'm asked why the states allow people to have guns.
"Well, it's complicated. In essence, they will be on the black market if they are illegal and then citizens have no way of protecting themselves legally. It is one of the many issues that Americans fight about amongst each other."
It's difficult to simplify things down to a language they understand and trying to adequately represent both sides of an argument that, well, generally, I just don't care about.
There's a reason that people don't leave China. Sure, it's not my lifelong cup of tea, but I get it.
It's safe here.
They may lack a few freedoms here and there, but overall, it's not a bad trade.
Interestingly enough, my good friend Owen brought up North Korea. He said that "the people in North Korea are very happy, but that's because they don't know what is going on. They don't know anything else. They don't know how happy they could be if they had freedoms."
One of my long-term guests took a trip out to Seoul. While there, they visited the DMZ (demilitirization zone) between North and South Korea. At the south edge of North Korea there is a jiade town (a fake town), they call it "Propoganda Town," as it is a beautiful and modern town.
That no one lives in.
That's right.
No human lives there.
It's a facade.
A prop.
This should give you an idea of how "protected" the North Koreans are.
It was interesting to hear Owen say this, so I replied with, "Many countries think that, America especially."
He laughed and inserted "World Police" into the conversation.
Exactly.
We often have good intentions and so does Owen in saying that they just don't know. He's right. I asked him if he wondered if people thought the same of China.
"Sometimes," he said.
Remember how crazy it was when you first found out there was no Facebook or Twitter or even Google (by the book anyway)? I'm sure you thought the same as I did.
"How could they think this? They just don't know what real life is, it is ridiculous to be restrained like this."
But this culture doesn't see it like that.
Just like this culture doesn't produce people that run into movie theater's with semi-automatic weapons on a premiere night.

Club InterContinental Week 4/16

I can't believe I'm already a quarter of the way through my longest position. How weird.
This week we have added in another two student trainees.
The interesting thing about training here is that they have it each day. There is a schedule that is sent at the last week of the month for the following month. Each day a new concept is reviewed and, generally, one of the front line employees is expected to show/remind everyone else how to do this. Then everyone signs a training record form and the concept is formally in your employee file.
Whenever someone or a group of people new people are brought into the area, everyone has a meeting to review the SOP, or standard operating procedure. It is usually about an hour and I don't go because they conduct it in Chinese.
The interesting thing about my training is I am only allowed to be trained by one of the supervisors since she has the best English skills. Because of this, she always promises to hold a training session for this or that at a later date in English for me. Slowly she is coming around to training me on different things. I get it though, it is tough to train something in your foreign language and I imagine I would have to wait until not only a slow day at the hotel, but a day that hasn't been so crazy that I can't concentrate enough to lead the training in my second language.
Many of the employees also attend other training programs throughout the month (at least once week), which is why I understand why it takes three people to run the training department. These sessions are also in Chinese, so I don't attend.
I think having a formal training program like this is awesome. Not only does it help to maintain better employees, but it helps to keep them at IHG by allowing a transfer of training they've already had since it is formalized. Think of it like getting badges for your brownie girl scout sash. Having a full record looks awesome and it's something to be proud of.
We also have an outing each month to a local restaurant, which connects the team more. The girls love it because I get to try Chinese food that is much better than our cafeteria food.
This week has also afforded me the opportunity to explain and teach English slang and it all started with a
"hey neeegar, what's UP?"
The formal spelling being "Hey, niggar, what's up?"
When Owen said this as I climbed on the elevator I almost though he was speaking Chinese for a second. I mean, there was no way this kid just called me a nigga'. I told him, that technically, I'm a cracka' and went on to explain the difference and to warn him to never call a black person "nigga'," and that is reserved only for them to say that to each other.
"Yes, Owen, it applies to 'bitch,' too."
The same night, the American came out in me as I mumbled a "that's what she said" at such a perfect opportunity that I forgot that, sadly, no one around was going to hand over a high-five for catching such a good one. My apologies, but my memory has eluded the specific comment one of my co-workers made.
Well, this meant I had to explain the concept of "that's what she said," but locker room talk of boys was beyond them, they really didn't understand it.
So, I gave up, feeling like an idiot for the first time ever for saying "That's what she said."

A Little Life, A Little Love

Life in Suzhou is comparable to life in Memphis, TN on many fronts.
The weather is disgustingly hot and humid to the point where I've seriously considered shaving my head. And then I remember why I usually spend my summers doing something else somewhere else with much better weather.
The people are, well, small town. Well, as small town as a population of 5.71 million can be. It's like the crowded feeling of New York with wider streets, more trees, more pollution, and the people behave like those in Memphis. Most of these people do not have a passport and will never need to get one. They rarely even travel outside of Suzhou, hardly even to Shanghai which is only 20 minutes by train.
As a result, they are kind of small-minded as I've gather both in conversations and just seeing them on the street, see previous blog posts on the staring. They also don't require much out of life to enjoy it. Their life demands and goals and far less than my own.
What can I say, I'm hard to please.
This also makes them pretty friendly, though. Even though I don't speak the language, many have shown their friendly side. This week I had to make a trip to China Post to pick up a package from the boyfriend (he sent cookies [swoon]), on the subway ride back to work I encountered a woman who had her daughter right beside her. The girl stared for a while, so I finally smiled and wave. A grin busted through her cheeks, revealing her adorably crooked and dirty teeth (they aren't really known for their oral hygiene here, spitting frequently in the streets and I'm not sure why their teeth are often so discolored, maybe all the tea without a whole lot of brushing). She squeezed out a stressed "hi" to me as if she struggled to remember the English greeting. I returned the greeting and her smile grew. I looked away, only to have my attention reverted back as she tapped my arm and her mother asked me to sit next to her. I only had one more stop, but the thing about being in public here is that, like at the hotel, I can only speak what I have come to call "Chinese English."
Chinese English is a very watered-down version of English using sentences that are preferably no longer than ten words and only using words that I would know the translation for in French.
Why in French?
Well, many of the people here have taken English since 6th grade, but stopped after high school or college (if they actually went to college), so they've forgotten most of it. So, I try and remember what my first year or so of French included and only use that in my English as that's probably all they remember, too. We all speak "Chinese English" when we first learn to speak as kids and again when we learn a foreign language. It's how you break it down and start building up.
So, "Chinese English" kept me from telling her no and I sat down next to the grinning girl and a little boy came over to practice his English as well, before I had to get up to go. It was an unbelievably sweet gesture to not only make her daughter happy, but help out a stranger in a foreign land carrying a big box.
An encounter I would probably have faced in Memphis, too.
My co-workers have taken to calling me "Sh-ow may" (pronounced with a quick "sh" and an "ow" sound like you make when you hit your funny bone and a quick ascending pitch, "may"). It means "wheat."
They absolutely love bread around here. It is hard to come by, many of the stores don't carry it and I have to go to a speciality bakery to get a loaf that doesn't have this weird milky flavor to it that they love so dearly, and we have it for every meal at the club: a loaf a breakfast, banana nut bread at high tea, and another loaf in the evening. And they save it after we take down all the food every time.
While, I'm making dibs to keep them from throwing away awesome sushi or the amazing strawberry profiteroles and chiffon cake - by the way, since my room mate has been in the pastry kitchen the last few weeks, she made sure I made friends with the other chefs who, even though they don't speak English, have taken to treating me every once in a while by surprising me with a dessert near the end of the night since my room mate told them about my dessert addiction - they're just after the loaf of bread. They won't eat the crust, though, and were appalled when I told them that the French bread is semi-crusty all the way through. "Why would you eat bread that is like stale?"
Yes, I know, dear friends.
They also thought that the cookies Nick sent were "too sweet" tasting, while Alex and I loved them. They've even asked me why we eat cheese when it smells so bad, to which I was quick to reply, "Have you smelled the food you eat? I mean really, you ate a chicken's foot yesterday in the cafeteria and everyone loved it. You had to bite around the toenails of a chicken's foot for dinner last night. Come on."
Anyway, but they think my hair color is like that of wheat. So, I'm "show may" (sorry I don't know the correct spelling in English characters). While everyone here refers to the others as their English name, I have lost my English name and am referred to by people who normally don't (well, usually can't) talk to me.
Now that I have a nick name and have answered their questions without judgement, they've taken to my personal life and also unloaded on their own.
When I was in Paris, I read the book "Eat, Pray, Love." It was an awesome book for that time in my life and, as always, better than the movie. The author, Elizabeth Gilbert, has a friend who was a psychologist and was asked to counsel female Cambodian refugees as they had just been rescued from horrific circumstances inclusive of genocide and rape. What did they talk about?
Their relationships.
Of course.
I come all the way around the world, interested in hearing what they have to say about politics, the environment, and what they want to do with their lives, but none of it interests them. They tell me instead about their asshole ex-boyfriends or this guy who clearly just wants a friend with benefits, but I had a hard time explaining what that entailed.
They're shocked that I've dated so many people (by American standards, I really haven't dated that much, stop your judging), when, at 20-25 they've only dated one or two people. They also don't really date much longer than a year before getting married.
From what I've gathered, there's not really an engagement period. And it seems that a lot of them are getting married around my age, just like many of my friends at home, but there are also many that are avoiding that path for a while, and in some cases, forever. Many have kids with their boyfriends, well, one kid, being the one-child policy and all. And a lot of my co-workers never want kids, some of those want to be married and the rest don't really care.
Being from the south, I would say that there are far more people here that don't want the marriage and kids life than those that already have it back home. Then again, things are different in the southern part of the states.
They're very inquisitive of the boyfriend and my friends.
So I have a theory that I believe I have shared before, but here it goes for review: The Disney Princess complex. This is a complex that a lot of girls tend to have that spend a lot of time at Disney growing up or are truly engulfed in the movies. As many of you may know, Asians love Disney. They're crazy about all things Disney, I think I have seen every girl I work with wear at least one Disney shirt or carry some sort of Disney accessory. I think that this, combined with the aspiration to have the "American Dream" contributes to their outlook on the normal American's life.
They think that everything, every story, is a fairy tale of sorts.
Unfortunately, the divorce rate of the American dream also seems to be following them. As a society of only children, they are having some difficulties from moving as the center of attention and the freedoms to do as they please, where they are boss and their desires are number one, to a mutual relationship. So, the dream of a fairy tale brings them together, but the realities quickly push them apart - last year over 2 million couples divorced in China. 2 million.
That's the entire population of Houston, Texas.
They always want to know how my boyfriend is and if he has sent me any letters lately or want more details on my friend's lives. And I have to follow up every story with pictures. Pictures of the people and the places I tell them about. They love the Grand Canyon pictures and told me that the Chinese characters for "America" are literally translated as "Beautiful Country" and now they know why.
I sometimes feel like I overwhelm them. In China, they have more freedom that people in the states think that they do, but a lot of times, they don't care to go out and use those freedoms. They're beginning to experience a cultural revolution of sorts ever since they opened their economy and little by little, things are changing. Still, you can tell by the look on their faces when I tell them the stories of the places I've been and the options I have for things like food choices all the way to where I want to live, it's almost too much to take in.
"Your parents really let you go to Paris and even come here for 6 months? My family would never let me do that."  I guess at the end of it all, their families are just as worried about their only kid where I am one of many kids. Not that I'm unimportant, but I do also happen to be fiercely independent.
They're just used to the life they have now that they don't really have a desire to do anything else, but, then again, I don't know what they make of that after seeing their reactions to my answers to all their questions.
But even though most everyone is part of a three-person family, they're still very tied to their families and, as a close extension their communities. Not that, volunteer-of-the-year or homeroom mom type of community ties we Americans filled our time with (not that there is anything wrong with that, I happen to love it). Just basic, hanging around and enjoying another day together, type of community.
Just spending one summer evening walking around my complex and you will see it, the sense of community even within a city this large. They're just as close knit of a city as we are in Memphis. Everyone is outside as if it were a block party every night of the week, just sitting around enjoying each other's company while some kids break dance on a cardboard mat and younger ones ride bikes against the back drop of the evening sky and lit by the small local market and flames coming off the grills of the neighbors turned vendors during the night. It's after midnight and the good times keep rolling on another average Thursday night.

Club InterContinental Week 3/16

My work week started out with an explanation that I didn't know I would be giving in China.

Ever.

One of the student workers (basically a freshman or sophomore in college doing a work assignment for one year) came up with our supervisor and said, "you know that girl time every month?"

I laughed and finished her sentence with, "What do I use?"

They smiled in agreement and I went to the only place where I knew to explain what a tampon was as they clearly did not use them here (see previous blog posts), Google.

Getting on Google is a series of steps that are much more complicated than simply opening Safari where it is my homepage. I have to type it in, duh. And then proceed to find the only English text at the top, "Gmail." If I don't click this and log in, all my results will be China (Well, Hong Kong based, being that the internet is based out of Hong Kong- they have many more freedoms in speech and the internet-so that our guests may Google and Facebook to their liking) based and also in Chinese. So I log in and jump out of my e-mail and on to that old, familiar, English-speaking friend, the Google homepage.

A quick image result brought up what I needed, along with plenty of halloween costumes that were disgustingly not what I needed. They gasped a bit when they saw just the tampon itself, but more of a puzzled gasp. Every girl will know the diagram I am talking about that I used to explain it to them, you know, the same one that you haven't seen since you were, what, 13, and rests inside the tampon box, never to be seen again.

I know you remember, don't deny it.

They caught on to the idea quickly and followed up with a lot more questions, such as, does it stay the whole time? Does it leak? Do you even use these (with a point to the napkin where I had written "Pads" just below "tampons" as a list of options we stateside ladies have)? Do you like them better than pads (imagine a stress on pronouncing "pads" here as they try to say it correctly)?

I smile as I said absolutely not, unless you want to get really sick; It does if you don't change it; And I use them when I sleep, but I know many girls that take the risk and use tampons instead; and yes, it is much more of a cleaner ordeal.

Never did I know that within a month of discovering a tampon-less world, I would be explaining what they were.

They seem to be getting bolder, since I answer every question pretty thoroughly, regardless how awkward it may be.

I can't imagine what they will ask next.

You would think that was the most awkward conversation I had that day.

It gets better.

Remember my medical exam?

I had a guest ask what that entailed, and, well, I had to tell him the whole truth. And I'm not one to sugar coat, so he was a little embarassed he asked and quickly apologized. Of course, I told him I wrote it in a blog for the world to see, because, well, I wish someone had written it in a blog for me to know what I was getting into.

Working in a country where you don't speak the language and you're all on your own is incredibly frustrating. It kind of isolates me in the work place as they talk amongst each other, so I spend a lot of time to myself enjoying the view, catching up with the world by standing by the television and stealing glances at CNN as I wait to greet guests, or go nibble on some of the awesome food.
Speaking of food, I've had 2 different fruits this week: Lychee and Longan.

Lychee

Longan

Both were super water and had the taste factor of water melon, which is also super popular here.
I've also had Taro balls, which were AWESOME. Think jam-filled donut holes.
I really don't know what the jam stuff was and my coworkers didn't know how to say it in English. When I tried to Google it for a picture I realized that Taro balls are from Thailand and come in a very wide variety, so much so that I couldn't find the purple jam. So, I guess we'll never know. 

Because I'm isolated and in a totally different world, it kind of toys with your emotions. Our long-term American guests have kind of taken me in and ask how everything is going and expect bluntly honest answer. I can't lie to them, they know what it's like. One of them put it really well when he said, "I know you're a girl and you all are emotional and whatever, but you seem pretty in check with your own. All of that to say, don't forget to pay attention to your emotions here. You will start to notice this first month or two is going to be a rollercoaster, and if you aren't paying attention and accepting how you feel, you're going to lose control."

And, he was right.

This last week has been FULL of great days and horrible ones. Because I'm isolated, a lot of the value of my day goes into how my coworkers treat me. As a true-at-heart southerner, I can easily get my feelings hurt when I am not spoken to for a while or am criticized for my work. Back home, I got over this when I was working in Florida as I gained a lot of yankee friends who are, well, blunt and pretty curt. But, in this emotional rollercoaster my strength is a little weakened. 

My great days include a day with 25% - 45% English, hand holding, and market runs. 

When a quarter of my day is English, it's a grade 'A' day. That means that I've met cool Americans and/or my colleagues have had lots of questions or taken the time to include me in a discussion. Every employee is very close here. Since many live in the dorms, we live together, and therefore, ride together to work. As females, we also change together. Everyone, even those in HR, sales, and the managers, has a uniform and changes in the locker rooms each day from their normal clothes to the uniform. 

Now think about that. 

What if you got to work each day and saw your manager in their casual dress, then undergarments, before you saw them in a suit? It creates an entirely different social system in the workplace. Everyone is very close, regardless of status, and jokes and plays quite a bit amongst each other. There isn't really a "professional boundary." Don't get me wrong, everyone is polite with each other, but as Americans, we wouldn't show up to our jobs without a sense of professional presence, which is broken down before work really starts here. 

A day of hand holding is also a way that makes me feel included. It's weird, but, like I said, professional standing is not the same here, and the girls touch a lot. I think that since there is only one boy working on the Club level, this pushes the touching a lot, especially when he isn't working. The girls often rub each others shoulders, or grab each others arms as if they were being escorted, or hold hands on the way to somewhere. 

For someone who isn't touchy-feely, this is very, well, different, for me, but I embrace it as an attempt to bridge the huge gap. 

I think I've said it before, but I've asked each of the people I work with what they like to do on their day off and the answers are the same: sleep a lot, shop, go to dinner with friends. Much like the answers of many of my American friends, but I would have never thought it would be that consistent. All of them are like that. These people LOVE shopping and sleeping. After we get off work, they always go to the family market to buy snacks or something instead of just waiting on the bus. And they will often go to the neighborhood market when we get to the complex. It's a social thing, I guess.

When they ask what I do when I'm at home, they were shocked at the long list of things I love to do when I'm off. I guess as Americans, we are pretty spoiled with our options, even if we don't have the money to actually go out. There's always a million things going on, or a fun 5K, or playing at the park, or having friends over for a movie night in. I can't imagine living a life where the only things I actually wanted to do on my day off would be shopping or sleeping.
Sidenote: Now that I've surveyed everyone at work on what they want to do on their day off, what do you want to know? Leave a comment below and don't be afraid to ask bold questions, they have been bold to me so they deserve it, ha! 

Their work lives sort of contradict this. They are kind of lazy, taking every chance they have to sit down, but at the same time VERY particular about how their work is done. I was yelled at for cutting the lemons into slices instead of wedges. They claimed that they needed the lemon wedges for the Coronas. When I said that the only people who ordered the Coronas were Americans and we drink them with limes, not lemons, they said, well it's not like that here. By the next day, everyone had come up to me and said, so "did you ever learn to cut lemons in the U.S.?"

Well, yes I did. Did no one get the memo to stop putting lemons in the Coronas? 

I decided to make a bold move and replenish a guest's Corona with a lime instead of a lemon. Someone got on to me, but were halted mid-sentence when the guest thanked me for bringing it with a lime instead of a lemon and that he didn't understand why my coworkers kept serving it with lemon. 

Plus 1 for the American. 

They are also particularly mindful of time. Everyone returns from lunch with 5 minutes to spare and gets to the pre-shift meetings 5 minutes before they start. I know in many cultures, translating time expectations is very different, so if you're ever in China always be at least 5 minutes early. 

They rush a lot as well. I was criticized for carrying just one plate and silverware back to the kitchen when I apparently should have left the dirty plate on a side counter for all the guests to see as they pass by and wait for more dirty plates. 

The club has 9 tables and there are always 4 of us working. They claim we're "busy" when 3 of the tables are occupied. In China, there is a lot of standing around at work. If you walk around, you will notice that at little drink stands and such, there are at least 2 or 3 people at the stand when easily 1 person could handle it. In America, we would only have 2 people working that club every night. One to greet and handle front desk operations for club guests and one to handle tables. Instead, it is one and three, respectively. 

In essence, they will claim that I'm not saving time, but then complain about how boring the job is when they are standing there next to dirty dishes waiting on more plates to be worth walking back 10 feet to the kitchen. 

They rush to be bored.

For people that dress as if the power was out, they are also very conscious of being "pretty." More so than many Americans I know. I've been asked several times why I don't wear make-up, and a very bold one even said it was a "hygiene" issue that I didn't wear make-up. 

It was a bad emotional day for me as I had already been referred to as needing a "fatter" set of uniform pants earlier that day. 

So I told her she would be fired for saying that where I come from and that I don't have to wear make-up for anyone. 

"If you want to get anywhere in this business, you will have to learn to like it, you need to be pretty."

I wanted to remind her that I wasn't in the prostitution or modeling business, but I was quite certain she wouldn't know what those words meant. I settled for, "I think I'm doing just fine in this business without make-up, thank you."

But these comments made me realized what a warped sense of reality they have. Although, who I am to say what reality is? It makes me thankful that I live somewhere that promotes on talent and broad thinking skills not beauty or carrying the right amount of dishes. 

Their petty criticisms make me feel as if they believe I am truly incompetent. They talk down to me quite a bit, but I think that's just me getting my feelings hurt and them not understanding how important emotional tone is when you're speaking to someone as well as the limited vocabulary - saying I needed a "fatter" uniform wasn't being mean, it was just using the only words they knew. 

And now I realize how all of the foreign co-workers I have ever had felt. We subconsciously thought them to be a little slow and incapable of learning to drive a raft or learn the front desk program when in actuality, they were struggling first to understand the language and then the task, no matter how great their English is (just try imagining using your high school Spanish in the work place, and let's not forget their English is ten times better than your Spanish). It is such an effort to train me directly that they have to just set me loose and correct what I do wrong over time. 

I'm not stupid and neither were the other people. One girl told me that I am kind of useless without one of them since I don't speak any Chinese and I needed to start learning more Chinese. 

I was kind of hurt. When I was hired, I was told I wouldn't need to speak Chinese and they didn't even want me to. I wish I would have know I would have been in for this. 

Then again, how many times have you encountered a mexican and been furious that they didn't speak English. I know you've thought it: "If they're going to come here they need to know OUR language and OUR rules and blah, blah, blah."

I get it, they should, but they don't. Do you even know how hard they struggled just to get to the states? Just to create a better life for themselves and their family? Why aren't we proud that we are such a great country that people risk their lives trying to have what we have? 

I wouldn't have risked my life to come here. And as I begin to see a lot of immigration laws pop up in China as they begin to crack down on foreigners living and working here, I'm beginning to get a taste of what it is like for my counterparts in the states. To feel unwanted even though I came here so that I may have a better job and a better life (not permanently in China, but down the road after this experience). 

Don't get me wrong, it isn't near as intense as it is in the states, but the next time you decide to get angry at the foreign workers that make sure your hotel room is well-cleaned and that are paid minimum wage so that you can have a great deal on the hotel, have a little compassion. They aren't stealing our jobs, that is, unless you or your college-educated kids are going to clean hotel rooms for, God forbid, minimum wage, so that the hotels can maintain a competitive rate. 

The next time you push to exclude them from the same freedoms and inclusiveness in the "American Dream" that you were only lucky to be born into, please remember this post. 

I know a lot of my fellow southerners are Republicans and anti-immigration, and also happen to be avid church goers, so if your good friend Madison being in that situation doesn't stir any love for those people, then I will hand over a little Jesus lesson for you from 1 Corinthians 8:12: 

When you sin against your brothers in this way and wound their weak conscience, you sin against Christ.