WordPress is one of the many blocked websites in China, so I have been posting via email ever since I arrived (a handy feature for those of you in a similar situation, but best set up before you arrive).  About once a month, the Great Firewall of China mysteriously crumbles and I’m able to Facebook and blog to my hearts content.  This is also when I take the opportunity to read comments, as I can’t actually read my own blog.  I ask your forgiveness for any typos in advance – there will be no editing.

In today’s China Daily (yes this is now my breakfast news source), there was an article by the organizer of President Obama’s Shanghai town hall.  He claimed that they did not train the students to ask questions, although they did ask everyone to submit questions for screening before entering the event.  He mentioned one question rejected for being too personal – a student who wanted to know what his working relationship is like with Secretary of State and former presidential hopeful Hillary Clinton.  Is it just me, or is this actually an awesome and totally relevant question for students preparing for their professional careers?  I find this question and the potential answer far more interesting than a condensed sound bite on the upcoming Copenhagen climate change conference.  I truly think it would be a learning experience for these students to hear about working with people you disagree with (or at least a vague overview of professional differences and awkward praise).  These students are born and raised under a one-party system with appointed officials, execution of dissidents, and clear black-or-white divisions.  Let’s talk about Hillary, about recognizing strengths and good points of people you might not agree with, or working with people you might not like personally if you have a common goal.  This would have been a far more educational experience for American and Chinese students alike.

If I find this student, someone help me get him a job with Oprah before she retires.

Over Thanksgiving weekend, I visited a restaurant that promised a true American breakfast experience. While my omelet was not quite up to Zazie standards, my biscuits were fluffy, home fries perfectly crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, and the coffee bottomless. Can’t ask for much more than that in the ‘Jing.

During breakfast, I also came to the undeniable conclusion that among America’s greatest food accomplishments must be the working man’s lunch trifecta of soup, salads, and sandwiches. Anyone who has ever worked in a metropolitan area can attest to this fact and when you think about it, it’s the completely logical outcome of supply-demand economy. In my offices in Asia and Europe, virtually all of my coworkers go out for lunch. And nearly always to a staff canteen or to one of many restaurants offering a set lunch menu for peanuts. Either way, they are eating a complete meal with a small salad or bowl of soup, a main meal (fish with potato salad in Germany, rice with various dishes in China), and dessert (or fruit). There is no need for creativity in the lunch arena because millions of office workers are eating the exact same thing for lunch that they would sitting at home or for dinner, or at any other time.

A sandwich anywhere outside of the US is a sad affair of rolls with a few slices of meat, cheese, and butter to top it off. A limp lettuce leaf if you’re lucky. And I have yet to see a salad topping fancier than discs of goat cheese. Delicious, yes, fulfilling enough as a meal, no. But the lucky citizens of the US (at least the coastal states) can step into their friendly neighborhood deli or yuppie deli chain and walk out with sandwiches bigger than their heads, piled with grilled chicken, steak, 12 types of cheese, caramelized onions, avocados, hummus, roasted tomatoes, and whatever else sparks their fancy. The same principle is applied to soup and salad – creativity is encouraged, results generally delicious (or at least made to order), and at worst, throw in some extra bacon and you’re ready to go.

I often wondered why no one ever opened a DIY salad or sandwich shop in Munich, and spent many a lunch hour plotting my Specialty’s / Harvest & Rowe franchise. But then I realized that I would be their only customer. No matter how many goodies are piled between those slices of bread or atop those mixed greens, it will never be acceptable as a complete meal. Especially not the salad. And even if it was, no one would eat at their desk anyways. So, back to the entrepreneurial white board.

As you may know, Chinese people don’t really eat sweets. Fruit for dessert is a way of life, and any snacking usually takes the form of dried meat or seed products. So growing up, the only exposure to chocolate I had was the annual Halloween binge. That and the ubiquitous boxes of See’s and Ferrero Rocher, to be passed around from household to household on Chinese New Year until wrapping wore thin and had to be replaced. I would estimate that between the 200,000 Chinese people living in San Francisco, there are probably only three boxes of chocolates existing at any given time. Everyone knows those boxes of chocolate are not for eating.

Going to college and then working, my access to sugar grew, but was still largely restricted to baked goods and the Walgreen’s candy aisle. Occasional treats requiring a special trip and strategic planning.

And then I moved to Germany. The first time the German and I went grocery shopping together and I watched him toss bars of chocolate in the cart, I thought he must have a serious craving. Or a secret child locked away in the cellar. Then I realized that after dinner, while sitting around and watching movies or reading, he would just eat chocolate. Plain. Just chocolate! This simultaneously disgusted, fascinated, and alarmed me. Especially when I shared this news with my coworkers, only to find they all sat around and ate chocolate for dessert. It had never, ever occurred to me to sit and eat pure chocolate.

But let me tell you, I learned quickly. And chocolate bars made in Europe are a far more enjoyable snack than Snickers and Almond Joys, which I used to consider the highlights of my childhood Halloweens, to be hoarded and the very bottom of my candy jar, which was organized from the bottom up based on preference with the favorites only to be consumed some time in March. What, all the kids didn’t do that? So for the past few years, I’m sitting there, enjoying an after dinner Ritter Sport Dunkle Voll-nuss, and it is not disgusting or weird at all. It’s delicious. At the risk of sounding like one of those French-women-don’t-get-fat-neither-do-Japanese! nuts, it’s probably also better for you than platters of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Mmmm….cookies. Anyways. And all was well and good until we moved to Beijing. As much as confectionery giants would like to stake their claim in the world’s largest market, it hasn’t really happened yet. I’ve managed the switch to fruit-as-dessert pretty well, but the German has taken to lying on the couch and weeping, claiming the lack of chocolate is causing headaches, dizziness, and swine flu. I expect any day, he will ask his contract to be re-written to guarantee access not only to "European-style housing" but "European-style chocolate, including an allowance of 1kilo of Nutella per month."

Another day, another country, another struggle for a working visa.  You know how a passport full of stamps is supposed to bring you joy and fond memories of your travel?  Thanks to open EU borders and three years of working in foreign nations, when I page through my passport all I feel is rising blood pressure.  Good thing my hypothyroidism keeps that relatively low already.

Anyways.

The process for a Chinese visa is a little different than Germany.  First, they kindly tell you that they need 37 ridiculously random documents.  The originals, of course.  Those who did not get original reference letters for that first job out of college better dust off the Rolodex.  Because, you know, you actually had a Roledex on your desk at that point.  Then you give those documents, your passport, and several thousand kuai to the visa processing company.  The nice part is that all your waiting is done in the comfort of your own home, rather than dragging yourself to the cold, unfeeling Torture-Amt office at 7am every week.  A week or two later, they deliver everything to your door, book your ticket to Singapore and Hong Kong, and send you on your way.

Only when you get to the Chinese embassy in Singapore are you reminded of your Torture-Amt experience.  I arrived 15 minutes before opening, only to find a line of 200 people in front of me, most who had arrived several hours earlier to line up.  Luckily, I befriended a couple in line behind me who made a Starbucks run to survive the 2 hours of waiting outdoors in the 30+ temperatures and peak humidity.  Once we made it inside the hallowed walls, there was also a line for the counter, a line for the copy machine (double copies of my passport, certificates, health check, official letters, and photos and they want a copy of the airport immigration card too?), and a shoving match to resume my place in the counter line.  Picking up the visa today was a vast improvement, with a special collection line at the door, a mere 30 minute wait to pay, and one last line to pick up the actual passport.

As much as the two day ordeal reminded me of a third world country train station on New Years, I have to say it was infinitely less painful than applying for my German visa.  Once you actually made it through the line, I just dropped off my inch-thick stack of paperwork, cash, and was ready to go.  No condescending questions, no criticism of language skills, no detailed examination of every aspect of my job.  I’ll take humidity and shoving matches over a three month German bureaucratic paper war any day.

In addition to the sinister “Everything better red” banners, there are a few other significant differences in office life I’ve noticed since I started working in China.

- Going to lunch at 11.30am.  On the dot.  En masse.
- Taking naps after said lunch.  Fully splayed along couches and kitchen chairs.
- Humidifiers on every desk.  Pink ones.  With cartoons and flowers.
- People using cellphones in the restroom.  The public, 6 stall, noisy flushing restroom.
- Snacks in Germany: candy, pretzels, and more candy.  Snacks in China: sesame peanut cookies, Chinese rice krispy treats, and dried beef chunks.
- Coworker lectures for not dressing warmly enough.

And don’t get me started on the additional differences of working in an office of 100 engineers.  Sometimes I think I’m working for an entirely different company.  But previous comments aside, it’s interesting how the office environment insulates you from the outside world.  With English-only emails and colleagues around the world, it is shockingly easy to spend the entire day working exactly as you would in any other office in the world.  I’m not sure if this speaks to the wonders of a global company, or the depressingly Office Space-esque nature of corporate life.

The last time I was in Singapore, I thought it was a decent city with warm weather, beaches, good food, and good shopping.  Nice, but nothing to write home about.  Coming here after two weeks of snow and subzero temperatures in Beijing, suddenly it seems like the promised land.  With warm weather! beaches! shopping!  I may never go back.  Who needs a city with personality and character when you can have Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf and Borders in your cookie-cutter high-rise condos and office buildings?

My manager had actually asked me to go to Singapore last month, the day after I moved to Beijing.  While that sounded like a horrific interesting option, I gently pointed out that an international flight the day after another international flight preceded by a week of moving was not something I wanted to sign up for.  To which he responded, what?  Isn’t the flight only 2 hours?  Um, more like 6, my friend.  Because first there’s this little thing we like to call China, and then this other thing called SE Asia.  You know, Vietnam?  Where pho comes from?  Pho.  No, PHO.  Not “poo”, with an “f” sound.  Never mind.  Apparently, he’s not the only one in need of a world geography recap, as my coworker informed me today that her manager once asked why she couldn’t make her business trips to Tokyo one-day trips.  I’m guessing they were low-balling the 7 hour flight time.  Or they have a time machine they haven’t told us about.

It’s pretty much the opposite of Europe, where every country was so small you really could get there in 2 hours max.  It makes the holiday planning much harder.  The German and I are looking into a Christmas / New Year trip, but the constraints of my 2 days of available vacation and the whole of China separating us from any source of warmth and sunlight are extremely limiting.  The only places accessible by short flights are either freezing (Japan) or communist dictatorships barring US visitors (North Korea).  Make that both freezing and a communist dictatorship.  Any better suggestions?

When I first moved to Germany, every time I needed something (socks, running shorts, books), I would go out shopping, be horrified that said item cost about twice what it costs in America, and move on to the next shop. Rinse and repeat for the rest of my Saturdays until I finally learned to start thinking in euros, not dollars. As much as I used every US trip to stock up on clothing, books, and food, some things you just have to have. Of course, the German had the opposite problem, where once he experienced the magic of American shopping malls, outlets, and sales, he was paralyzed with regret and nostalgia upon entering any German shoe store.

Now that I’m living in China, I’m faced with the opposite problem and feel like I have wads of Monopoly money to throw around. Except it’s hard to judge worth when there are huge gaps in pricing. When lunch cost 8 kuai, but then I attend a dinner where the bill is 10% of my monthly salary, it just stops seeming like real cash. Yesterday, after a sudden blizzard covered the city in piles of snow and slushy mud, I stood in my ballet flats trying to decide if I should cab it to work or trek to the subway. If you were in New York and presented these $60 vs. $2 options, 15 minutes of walking in the snow would be a worthwhile trade off. But if you’re still converting things to a 5EUR difference, it becomes a harder choice. In the end, I think you just have to forget currency conversion and think about what you have. In which case, the clear answer for this scenario is to work from home.

The first snowfall last Sunday also prompted the beginning of daily tirades on the failure of the German’s company to procure our visas. Restricted travel and inability to open a bank account are minor issues, but lack of winter clothes because the moving company refuses to ship our things without a copy of the visa? Not so fun in -10 temperatures. Especially when you have been advised that visa processing will take “2 weeks, or to the end of October” and packed accordingly.

As part of the visa application process in China, you’re required to go for a "health inspection" which is far less effective a form of weeding people out than say, the visa application process itself. What does this even tell you? That we don’t have swine flu on that given day? I may not support banning people with AIDS and syphilis, but at least I understand where it’s coming from. But what’s up with the colorblind test? The inspection takes place not at a "hospital" but at a "government health center". Which is basically a DMV with needles. Seriously, there’s even a photo station. And just like the DMV, your three hour visit can be broken down as follows:

30 minutes – filling out paperwork you already have
2 hours – waiting in line to pay
30 minutes – "health inspection"

Actually, not only was it like the DMV, it was pretty much identical to all the health care I have received in America, so I felt right at home. The biggest plus about this health center is that it was not in the seedy run-down strip mall across the street which I originally thought was our destination. Luckily, the driver corrected me before I had the chance to pass out in sheer terror.

The other best thing about the health inspection? Meeting people from Taiwan and Hong Kong who have to pass this and apply for visas. Actually, the best part was asking an employee why people from Taiwan and Hong Kong have to get visas:

Me: I thought it’s all one country.
Him: Of course. But they still need a health exam and a working visa to come here. Obviously.
The German: Stop asking questions. They’re going to put you on the anti-communism watch list and you won’t get a visa.

Also, sometimes when I write things about Communism in an email or post, I worry that my computer will spontaneously combust via internet spy bomb. So far, that hasn’t happened. Except on 24.

For anyone still under the impression that Communism and Socialism are the same thing, let me assure you they are not. First, one is about economy and the other is about politics. More importantly to me, in a socialized country, you will get massive amounts of vacation. In a communist country…it’s a lot closer to US democracy. In fact, it’s basically identical. I am currently the disgruntled owner of 15 days of vacation a year. Lest you forget, I already thought it unfair that I had only 26 in Germany while others had 30. Am starting to suspect this whole China move is a ploy on the part of the German to squash any future plans to move back to the US.

Because really, how do people do it? As I best recall, working under those circumstances was so unbearable to me I ended up quitting my job to travel and then moving to Germany. I used to laugh when the German said he refused to move to America unless he found a job with at least 20-25 days of vacation a year. But I think the man has a point now. It’s really inhumane. As it is, the 18 days of bank holidays make my current situation just about tolerable.

I know y’all are saying the money you save in taxes makes up for this. But personally, I took all that money, changed it to US dollars, and spent my vacations in the US buying jeans and gasoline like they were candy. So I’m not convinced. Especially since most of my friends in the US were in a tax bracket alarmingly close to mine.

Another difference on life in a communist state? I have seen the phrase ‘Everything Better Red’ twice this week.

The German, and many others, have a deep, paralyzing fear of street food. Of course, this usually applies not only to the guys pushing snack carts, but to any eating establishments without English menus, proper furniture, and/or ownership of the McDonald’s corporation. Me, I have more fear of eating at places that are owned by McDonald’s. A little Delhi belly never scared me, even when we’re talking about food from a train station cart actually in Delhi. And I am proud to say that for all my indiscriminate eating, I have never suffered.

And that’s because I do discriminate, my friends. Only not with logos, but with my brain. I think most of these rules for eating on the streets are pretty obvious and well-known, but a recap for those who spend their entire Asian vacations eating in hotel restaurants.

- Look at the food. It’s not that difficult. If it looks good and smells good, that’s probably a good sign. Does McDonald’s pass that test? No. Does the random dumpling sweatshop with the all-orange, all-plastic decor down the street? Yes.

- Look for people. First, crowds generally signify popularity. But even if you’re in China, where crowds just signify that you’re still in China, they at least tell you food is getting turned over pretty quickly and is fresh. Even better if you see that they’re running out of stuff. Don’t you always hear stories about people who only ate in their hotel restaurant and still got sick? This is because scared Western tourists are the only ones eating at their hotel restaurants. God knows how long that piece of fish was around before you checked in.

- Even more importantly, look for the ladies. Let’s face it, we all know that most dudes will eat anything off the street. Especially meat on a stick. But if there are women, or even better, women with kids packing it in, you’re in business.

- Get it while it’s hot. If something has just been immersed in a boiling oil bath or ladled from a bubbling pot, there’s only so much that can be growing there. Room temperature meats and salads that have been lying around for hours are a whole different story.

- No mystery food. Should you eat local specialties and try new things? Yes. Should you eat things where you can’t identify any ingredients or food groups? Not so much. See the guy selling roasted sweet potatoes? It’s an unmodified starch cooked entirely within its own wrapper. Idiot-proof street food. Start with this and work your way up.

You may now proceed to stuff your faces.  If you get sick, I can only assume you did not follow rule number one closely enough.  Review and repeat.

xoxo,

le petite mangetout