Cloudy in Beijing Blogging about my time in China

Goddamn the Olympic Games

In the last post I said going to China at this stage of my life was perfect timing. That's not exactly true. Probably the opposite.

Back in the spring when I told everyone I was going to China, the automatic response was "Hey, maybe you can go see the Olympics." To me, the Olympics wasn't a big deal, and not in my reasons for going to the country. But "Hey, it could be cool," I naively thought.

I had originally wanted to come to China earlier in the year, like June, even May. But it wasn't until late August. The reason: The 2008 Olympics in Beijing. Yea, the mutherfuckin Olympics.

While hundreds of millions of Chinese celebrated the Olympics as a defining moment in China's stature among the world, I looked at it peevishly. Goddamn Olympics.

My plan for going to China was to become an English language teacher, like so many other expats have in the country. But blame for my timetable's delay was due to stricter regulations regarding visas. The Chinese government had clamped down on issuing them to ensure the Olympics would run smoothly. I was one of the casualties. In May I had accepted a teaching job, but the school was forced to rescind the offer. The government would not budge on its policies. In the next months I continued my search, the possibility of seeing the same outcome again, looming over my prospects of heading to China by this summer. It seemed like every other day I would half-jokingly shake my first at the mention of the Olympics.

Yea I was bitter. The months went on; June went, then July, and finally August came. My summer had lasted a bit too long, although that wasn't a bad thing either; I had never been more relaxed maybe in my entire life. Yet every day spent in my home in Oregon, felt like I was wasting a little bit of my life; idleness can be a killer. So I was eager to throw off my status as "in-between jobs", a descriptor that started to become a stain on my self-worth.

Finding the job wasn't the hard part. Despite having no teaching experience, and only an online degree (Yea, an online degree), I remember getting more than a dozen offers that summer. In July I had settled on a job in Xi'an, teaching college students. Finally in August I got the Visa papers. The government had cleared me. I could barely believe it.

In May when I first arrived home after leaving my job at the newspaper I remember telling my mom, almost angrily, "I will get to China by this summer." This was after she asked me "What if this doesn't work." Well, it almost didn't. I spent hours looking at teaching jobs everyday, trying to see if there was some way to work the system to get to China. In the end, it just felt like luck. And it probably was.

I came to China a day after the Olympics ended. Arriving at the Beijing Airport, I dragged my luggage to transfer planes after having endured at 14 hour long flight. Nevertheless, I was proud. Goddamn I was proud. "Yea China I did it. I'm here. I am finally here," I said to myself in a fatigued glee as I walked through the airport. I remember walking through a hallway and seeing all the signs and banners commerating the Olympics and the grand occasion it was. I smiled.

"Fuck you Olympics!" I pumped my first in the air. "I made it!"

Ironically, I do wish I could have gone to at least one Olympic event.

China here I come

My name is Michael. And right now I'm at the airport, ready to start a new chapter in my life. This blog is intended to be a chronicle of it. Long story short, I'm heading off to China.

There's lots to say about why I'm going there. But I'm not entirely sure how this trip to China cemented itself as being a life-long goal of mine.

Some might say I'm just rediscovering my roots. Though I was born and raised in America, I'm Chinese by descent, my parents having come from Taiwan. Yet I don't really think of China as "the motherland." In fact, I don't really know how I feel about it. It seems like I should have some sort of connection or bond to it. Culturally, my life sort of does fit that typical Chinese-American archetype. During my youth, my parents would speak to me in Chinese, while I often replied back to them in my English (Speaking English is just so much easier). Also, for over a decade I would spend my Sunday afternoons learning Mandarin at the local Chinese school (God, I hated going to school on Sundays). And yes, I was a top student at my high school (I did get one B though. 'My life was over' as I recall).

I too have also had those moments, where I've felt confused about my so-called "Chinese-American identity." Not so much confused, but just burdened by it. In my youth I had this feeling that I had to learn the Chinese language or I wouldn't be Chinese. Mainlanders in China have a term for it. It's called "being a banana'-- Yellow on the outside but white on the inside. Makes it sound so disgraceful. But for me, the disgrace would have just come from not being able to communicate with my grandparents. None of them can hardly speak any English.

Those feelings, however, have pretty much passed. I feel free to do what I want despite what anyone should think. Yet still, I feel driven to master the Chinese language.

I remember maybe about four years ago I returned back to my Chinese Sunday school to give a little lecture about the importance of studying Chinese. I hesistated. My Chinese at the time was rusty. It seemed almost hypocritcal for me to do give such a speech. Yet the worst part was I could hardly could give a good reason at all. I was flustered, gropping around for reasons as I nervously spoke in front of the high school students. "It's good for your career," I said. "You can talk to your grandparents." My parents afterward mildly complained that I was playing with my hands too much as I talked.

Now that I think of it, really, there's no point in convincing someone why they should learn Chinese. If you don't want to learn it, then don't learn it, stop wasting your time. But as for me, I can now say why I want to learn Chinese, without the feeling of being burdened by it. I just really enjoy learning it. It's fun. (Though not fluent, I can read, write and speak, but I still have a ways to go.) Most of all, learning the language, opens doors to the Chinese culture, its people, and my own roots. As I write, nearby I have a bundle of papers written by my grandfather, his autobiography of his life, all written in Chinese.

And it can be good for my career too. Being a foreign correspondent would be a dream job. After college, for two years I worked at a newspaper as a journalist. Then in April I quit. Heading off to China was the next priority.

So by going to China I hope to achieve all of this, or at least attempt to. Plus I've always wanted an adventure. I'm 24, with nothing to lose. This is perfect timing.