So, here I am. Shenzhen China. How did I get here and what will I be doing here, I wonder to myself? I rub my eyes, it’s 12 noon, but they are sore, as if I stayed up all night, straining to read a miniature book written in 6pnt font. The following is a collection of my musings, experiences and what I recount of my journey so far.
Departing
The flight was long. We were scheduled to depart Philly International at 9 o’clock, which means we didn’t really get off the ground till almost 10 Eastern time. I’m saying we, because I am traveling with three other guys from LaFrance, the company I work for. Bryson, Jason, and Mike. Bryson is the experienced one of the group, he has been to China about 6 or 7 times already. Mike and I are new. Jason is from mainland china and is on his way back home. He’s in his late 20s but last week was the first time he had ever been to Hong Kong. Apparently a passport and customs and a temporary immigration pass are needed to go from the mainland to HK. They have their own money and they even speak Cantonese instead of Mandarin. This was also Jason’s first time to the US. He speaks decent English but with a moderate accent. So, listening carefully and speaking slow is the key to communication with him.
The turbine revolution
So together we fly to O’Hare airport in Chicago, and layover for about half an hour...it would have been longer but like I said, we were delayed. In Chicago we all grab a quick bite to eat at America’s favorite eatery, you guessed it, McDonalds. Nothing brings you together like McFoodsuffs. Even Jason was excited to have a McChicken wrap. Though, I forgot to request a receipt so LaFrance could cover the cost of the lunch. Oh, well.
The flight begins. It was a damn long flight. I couldn’t tell you exactly how long we were in the air but it must have been days. Maybe weeks. I grew a full beard and had to shave multiple times with my illegally stowed razor. It wasn’t long before the in flight food ran out in economy. It wasn’t long before the masses in the back of the plane surged forward and attacked the aristocracy in firstclass. We waited till they were asleep, comfortable in their fold-flat-chairs, and they didn’t know what hit them. Tired and unawares, the dynasty of firstclass fell quickly and quietly as the new age of economyclass rose to power. But with the majority of the population in economy, the plane soon grew overcrowded for even just us. Huger. Famine. There was no rain. One of the children fell and broke his leg…he was the first to go. The sacrifices we make in order to survive are tremendous. The rational that can be accomplished in a situation like this, astounding. Like when I first became the spiritual leader on the plane. This position required that I both lead the people, and then be sacrificed, when it was my time. And so I died. My remains were feasted upon by the second spiritual leader in a ceremonial…uh…ceremony.
Arival
Wait…wait…no…none of that happened. But it was a long flight. By the time we arrived in Hong Kong, it was 6 at night of the next day HK time…which is a 12 hr time difference from the US. So I would have been traveling from 9am on the 19th till 6 am on the 20th US Eastern Time. That is a total of 18 hrs, including the transfer in Chicago. Then we took a ferry and a taxi to our hotel in Shenzhen. It was about 8pm before I got to my room. Jason went straight home, and left us at the ferry. He won’t be staying at the hotel.
My room is nicely sized and well equipped. The bellboy caries my luggage up to my room and after making sure I know where the light switches are, he asks me if I would like a girl. Apparently the Chinese prostitution market is not legal, but nonetheless commonplace. I politely decline and I settle in, take a shower and relax for a minute before getting a call from Norvin.
The room.
Now I know what a mashed potato feels like
Norvin is another LaFrance employee who is currently over here in China. He flew over here a couple of weeks ago and has two weeks left before he heads back to the US. I meet the group of Norvin, Brison, Mike, and Eric in the hotel lobby. Eric is a standard issue white American LaFrance employee, but he speaks fluent Mandarin. He’s lived here off and on for a few years. Together, the majority of us exhausted from the flight, we trod on down the road to a massage parlor where you can get a foot massage (apparently calves, legs, back, shoulders, and arms are also considered part of the foot, because they massage that too) for about 46RMB. Don’t ask me what RMB stands for, but it’s the local money denomination. 46RMB translates into about 6 USD with an exchange rate of about 7.5 to 1. The five of us are ushered into a room with 5 lay-z-boy recliners and ottomans (ottomen?). Eric has been doing the talking. I find it is uncommon for anyone outside work or the hotel to speak much English. He explains he has been here before, we each are to get our own masseuse, and he is going to request a special person for me. He caries on in Mandarin with our hostess and I can tell by the look on her face that the girl he requested is not working tonight. Eric looks disappointed. He later tells me he had tried to get me the girl that looked like she has a “butt on her face.” I am quickly learning there is a bit of hazing that goes on with my co-workers. I laugh, and sarcastically thank Eric for his “kind” gesture.
The masseuses arrive. One maSeuss, two maSeuss, wearing red maSeuss, and wearing blue maSeuss….oh yeah…and the fifth masseuse. Each of them is petite and cute with shoulder length black hair. Thankfully none of them look like they have a butt-face. We get our massages and I practically fall asleep, except when she gets to my feet. For being a tiny thing of about 4 foot and maybe 95 pounds she rubbed and squeezed my foot till I couldn’t take it. She was driving her knuckle into the ball of my foot at one point and I jumped from the intensity. She giggles and continues. Eric explains some of the people here have intensely calloused feet and it is necessary to be rough for them. I quickly learn the Chinese word for hurt (téng). I use this word to help calm her down anytime she starts driving her knuckle into me again. The five massage engineers giggle as they work, each having much more strength than they look. They talk amongst themselves and point out the differences between each of us. Eric translates. They are amazed at the size of his calves. They ask if Bryson, who is black, is an NBA star. Then they ask if he is Philippino because Norvin, who actually is Philippino has near the same skin tone. They tell Mike he has beautiful teeth. Then my human tenderizer says something in Chinese. All the girls, Eric and even Mike laugh. Mike later informs me that he knows a little bit of Mandarin. “She said you have a big head.” Oh, the differences between us. The massage lasts about 45mins and despite being surprised by a little téng every once in a while it was a good experience and for the Chinese equivalent of $6 I’ll be doing it again.
Breakfast
I wake and take my ticket to get my free buffet style breakfast and I am greeted with hotplates of many types of food, most of which I don’t associate with breakfast…or eating at all. Soup, bread, fish, scrambled eggs with baby oysters mixed in, fruit, fried rice, noodles, octopus, bacon, seaweed, pancakes, and croissants fill the table. I eat my fill, most of it proving to be quite edible. Even the octopus, though it was a bit chewy.
The wheels on the van go round and round
At 8:00 Bryson, Norvin, myself and Caroline gather in a small Mitsubishi mini-van outside the hotel and we are off. Caroline is the final addition to our LaFrance group in China. She is part of the US team but appears to be full blooded Chinese. I hear she likes spicy food, so, I may be hanging out with her and a pair of chopsticks in the near future. Eric is off to a different plant today so he’s not riding with us.
We take off like a rocket. Well, a slow rocket. But one that’s kinda out of control. Like a wild bucking bronco of a slow rocket. We’re not really going fast but it feels like we are.
Inside the rocket, heading to work.
Navigating through traffic. Any way that works, works.
Pedestrians are honked at by our Chinese driver, as he quickly changes lanes. The pedestrians are as plentiful as they are crazy. On the way to the hotel yesterday, one woman was brazen enough to cross a 6 lane highway where everyone is driving 90Km/hr. In the pouring rain. At night. I swear it looked exactly like Frogger.
We pass someone in a Honda making a u-turn in the middle of traffic and fly down the street avoiding the maze of mopeds and Froggers and arrive at an intersection where two roads, each with two lanes, intersect. But this one is different; the traffic light is out and it’s mass chaos. Busses are pushing the pack forward as we weave around cars going every-which way and bicyclists riding down and around the center of the road. Imagine people squeezing past each other on the sidewalks during a crowded lunch hour in Times Square, NY. Now imagine that 50% of those people are motor vehicles that range from the smallest Honda Fit to the largest full-size mass transit bus. Now imagine they are all Asian. That’s a pretty good description of what it was like on the roads. Also, cars seem to honk just to let each other know they are there…there is almost continuous honking. A cacophony of cars and trucks everywhere.
We make it through, and the rest of the trip goes a little smoother, except for a couple of delivery trucks driving on the wrong side of the road. I don’t remember seeing any road signs. Maybe they simply don’t have any rules of the road.
Note the truck entering this road. Both of these lanes are going one way...not the way the truck is headed.
Mass transit?
Empty talk endangers the nation. Productive work brings prosperity.
I saw that slogan written very large on a building as we entered Shenzhen. It sounds very much to me like classic communist rhetoric, but then again, didn’t I hear some presidential candidate say something much the same the other day?
On a side note, I read in my Mandarin phrasebook, while during the WWII era the Chinese word for Comrade, tóngzhì, meaning ‘of the same mindset’ was used to address anyone and everyone. The word no longer is used much except in the gay community as their own way of referring to themselves.
Home is where the heart is. Work is where the cubicle is
So we arrive at work. Bryson and I walk Mike to his building. He will be supporting PacTec, one of LaFrance’s sibling companies. Caroline scurries off to her building and Bryson and I walk back to our ours.
I guess there are some things that are always the same. We are greeted by blue cubicles in this, one of the nicer, newer buildings. It’s just like any other office building, except for the extraordinarily high amount of Chinese employees.
Parking lot.
China puts the I in leisurely
Interesting to note that the same company that gives its American workers a ½ hour lunch in the US has a 1½ hour lunch in China. They work a little longer of a day, but needless to say lunch was leisurely, very different from the US. I strolled down the road to the closest restaurant. LaFrance has an account set up there so we can eat without worrying about the bill. I got some decent sweet and sour chicken, though Daisy tells me that that place has the worst food around. If the worst food is decent…then I think I’ll be ok. Daisy is a China employee who is in charge of coordinating logistics. She is an English major at the local college so she speaks good English with only a mild accent.
Heading to lunch.
A rose by any other name…or a woman by the name, rose
Though everyone here has a Chinese name, it is common for them to pick an English name to use. It certainly makes it easier for me to address them. Often they will even ask an American to help choose their names for them, or they will just use their favorite actor. They spell the names in their own way and use it at work, home and abroad. Here are some English names of the Chinese people:
Shelly
Stella
Ted
Rosy
Mike
Suize (pronounced Suzie)
Brook
Daisy
Bluesky
Sandbank
Leson (pronounced lesson)
Quest
Forest (named after Forest Gump)
Spiderman (I’m not kidding)
Actually, now that I think of it. This process does not seem so different than the American Indian way of naming each other. They choose a name they think represents them or is something they like or aspire to be. I’ll be honest, I would choose Darth Vader…or maybe Samuel L. Jackson.
Going to the bathroom
After lunch, I come back full and satisfied. And it’s not long after returning to my desk before I need to relive myself. I walk to the bathroom and open the stall door… and freeze. I stammer out loud, “No…no.no.no…what?” I look around as if to find a well dressed, chinaman with a large smile shouting, “Youuu on can-dead cam-ra!” in his broken engligsh. But no. No one and nothing is there except me and the Chinese version of a toilet, which is not much more than a porcelain hole in the floor. I kid you not. Please see attached picture. I don’t know what position one is supposed to hold their body in while using this device but it’s hard for me to think of any that don’t involve a high probability of crapping on your pulled-down-trousers. I was concerned that no amount of leaning or squatting could cantilever my ass far enough from my ankle-bound jeans and underwear, so I did the unthinkable. I took off my shoes, pants then underwear and stood there in my shirt and socks. I lean back with one hand on the floor behind me and my feet in front, legs bent, akin to something floor gymnast or break-dancer would do on a daily basis. Relieved and shook to the core by this harrowing experience, I reclothe myself and wash up fervently. As I look in the sink mirror, I see over my shoulder behind me and I notice one stall door that looks slightly different than the rest. The tiling on the floor is different too. Cautiously I push it open to find (oh praises!) a western, normal, and oh-so-delightful looking toilet. Needless to say, I will be using this one for the remainder of the trip.
Observe in the picture, the small trashcan on the right. This is used to collect the used toilet paper. It’s not flushed away. There is one of these even in the standard toilet stall.
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