A Chinese Girl Overcomes Adversity

The plague of adversity clangs globally. Presented in many forms, it determines our future and well-being. Most affected are people from underprivileged countries, where preference of a better life is ignored. From generation to generation, acceptance of adverse lifestyles strengthens homogeneously, as is the case with China. Many younger generation Chinese are refusing to accept this poverty-stricken life, and using it as motivation. One such person is, Mary Xiao.

We’ve heard stories of how fathers or grandfathers walked miles through mud and snow, with only a pair of holy shoes. The impoverished villages of China are no different today. As a child, Mary was raised in a country setting consisting of sparse villages, each containing ten to fifteen cement houses without windows or inside plumbing. The only school house, with multi-grade level classrooms, was miles away down a path, riddled with generations of footprints.

Mary helped her mother and father sell plums along the distant highway after graduating from school. After persistent urging, her parents purchased their first TV. Through the blanket of static on the screen, Mary discovered a life outside the village. Enamored by what she saw, she broke away from the traditional village environment in search of a better life.

Like people escaping to California to seek stardom, Mary found her way to the capital city of Guangzhou in south China. Arriving in the city with a small amount of money, she began work in a factory. Without a college degree, her options were limited. Since large companies in China provide free housing and food for employees, Mary was able to save her meager earnings. She worked twelve to sixteen hour days without air-conditioning, six days a week, with no overtime pay; conditions referred to in America as “sweat shops.”

Escaping village life and finding work, she still was not content. While shopping one day, Mary struck up a conversation with a lady. Attracted to Mary’s bubbly personality, the lady offered her a secretarial position in an import/export company. Mary’s passion for international trade grew, as did the desire to improve her English. She decided to spend her off time attending relevant classes at the nearby university.

Mary had her problems. Her wallet and bicycle stolen on two separate occasions, Mary continued to work diligently towards her goal. She allowed nothing to persuade her otherwise; adversity was just an obstacle to go around. Thoughts of her former life propelled her to persevere.

Three years later, Mary’s English was impeccable, and earned bragging rights to a degree in International Trade and Finance. Soon afterwards, she accepted a partnership position with the same company she had been working for.

Mary often visits her village, and pleased to see improvements. Most homes have windows, doors, and indoor plumbing now. The distance to the school house remains with no improvements.

Adversity is reserved for those who allow to accept it, while others use it as a luxury to build upon. For some it is innate. For others, it is an illusion created by their failure complex. Look adversity in they eye, and like a submissive dog, it will eventually back down and disappear.

China: A Vacation That Pays for Itself

People wait a lifetime for a dream vacation and regret never finding time. If you’re a graduating college student, unemployed, or have lots of free time on your hands, an exotic vacation to China might be the ticket. For under $1,000, you can travel to China, teach oral English, earn money, and visit all the sights you’ve always wanted to see.

China has over 300,000 students studying abroad, and increasing 20% a year. The need for English teachers remains in high demand. Treated like kings and queens, teachers in China are amongst the most respected and honored professions. Whether teaching kindergarden, secondary school, university students, or adults, teaching in China is a rewarding experience.

If your native language is English, and you hold a bachelor’s degree in any major, you can earn as much, if not more than a Chinese university professor. China’s demand for foreign English speaking teachers reflect salaries from schools. Foreign teachers can expect to earn as high as 25,000rmb (nearly $4,000) per month, the average being between 8,000rmb ($1,250) to 11,000rmb ($1,730) per month. Year-end bonuses and return home flight tickets included. Full-time work consists of 20−22, forty-minute classes a week, with accommodations and meals included. Public and private schools offer Chinese holidays off, most with pay, allowing time for travel or taking a crash course in Mandarin. If you have the ability to teach a specialty course such as math, history, science, TOEFL, or SAT, salaries are much higher.

Living expenses vary from city to city, with the trade-off reflected in salary. Teachers can expect to live a very comfortable life with entertainment and purchases for as little as 400rmb ($63) a month. If you travel, expect to pay a little more for transportation. If you’re married, no problem, many schools prefer couples to teach.

In an attempt to diminish the backpacking “riffraff” entering China for a free meal ticket and place to stay, China has enforced all English teachers obtain a working permit. This is reflected in the Z visa. The Z visa requires an invitation letter from the school, and an invitation letter from Chinese Foreign Affairs. These documents will be required at the Chinese consulate in your city. Many foreigners enter on the tourist visa (L visa), and find teaching employment in small towns, but this is not advised, large fines can be imposed on you and the school.

With all Chinese Holidays, major American Holidays, and winter and summer time off, a teacher has plenty of time to travel. There’s the Great Wall, Tianmen Square, the Emperor’s Palace, the Queen’s Garden, Shanghai, Macau (Las Vegas of China), Sanya (China’s Hawaii), and so many others. China boasts a 4,500 year history, so it’s guaranteed you’ll find something that interest you.

One of my favorite places is Yangshuo, Guilin. A small tourist town engulfed with China hat mountain tops. Attracting foreigners from all across the globe, Yangshuo is well-known for its many English emersion colleges, which foreigners tend to gravitate for teaching. The famous West Street caters to foreigners, including an abundance of English restaurants. For a dollar, you can rent a mountain bike for the day and bicycle through the town and along the Li River in the back country. It’s here you’ll find ancient ruins, rice fields and water buffalo, a 4,500 year-old banyan tree, and beautiful multicolored quartz caves. One of China’s most popular area for rock climbing, several licensed operators offer lessons on an actual mountain. There’s bamboo river-raft rides, waterfalls, swimming, hiking, and bicycling. There’s Tai Chi, Kung Fu, Yoga, and massage classes. Artists from around the world gather to paint the next Van Gogh. Writers gather to write the next Hemingway. Watch silk being made from silk worms; enjoy street performers and ancient Chinese crafts being made. Everything is negotiable from vendors, so never say “yes” to the original price. Nightlife? Every night is a Saturday night in Yangshuo. Bars and clubs offer drinking games, dancing, and shows. It’s a party paradise.

If you have a four-year degree and can speak English, you have an opportunity to turn those thoughts of an exotic vacation into reality. Stay for three months, six months, a year, or indefinitely. Give yourself a break, go on an all expense paid vacation. Come to China!

China: Living in a Third-World Playground

Relocating to a third-world communist country is a thought that will make your hairs stand on end, but if you’ve ruled out China, think again. In spite of China’s bad rap, freedoms and opportunities exist there, where in other countries they might not, especially for foreigners. The slower paced lifestyle of China revolves around work and entertainment. The adage, “Work hard, play hard,” applies in its extremity amongst its people. Every city in China boasts something for everyone, whether it be sight-seeing or modern day entertainment facilities.

Working in China

China has a world-class work ethic that managers around the world would envy. Six day work weeks, and nine to twelve hour days are not uncommon for people of China. Everyday is a race to the top of the ladder, and few ever get there. For some employees, overtime is scheduled, for others it’s by choice for a better life. For most foreigners however, full-time work consists of a part-time work week in America, which translates into about twenty hours a week in China. Overtime is optional. The pay? Two to four times more than Chinese nationals earn working full-time. Opportunities are plentiful for foreigners, and consists of teaching, consulting, and import/export trade, just to name a few. Positions for foreigners can range anywhere between 4,000rmb ($640) to as much as 30,000rmb ($4,800) per month. Receiving the minimum of pay, a foreigner can live quite comfortably, and enjoy certain luxuries they’re used to in their country’s.

If relocating to China in search of a simpler, slower paced life, you’ll want to concentrate on the more rural areas. China is rife with farmland, where fields of rice and vegetables are grown. Laborers in these areas still perform their work as they did thousands of years earlier. It seems progress has skipped these towns. The ancient way of living attracts many curious foreigners and locals from larger cities, which makes for popular tourist destinations. The weathered lady adorned with the typical conical bamboo hat leading an ox to plow will be more than happy to stop and pose for a photo, for whatever small fee you can afford of course. These areas are perfect for an artist or writer seeking inspiration and isolation.

Larger cities, such as Shanghai, Beijing and Shenzhen attract more business type foreigners, and tend to be equivalent to America’s city lifestyle; closely resembling New York. You’ll feel right at home with the amount of traffic on streets, sidewalks and stores. Like America’s melting pots, China is crawling with cultural diversity. There’s a place for everyone in China, it all depends on your lifestyle.

Holiday Celebrations

With China’s 5,000 year history, it’s no wonder national holidays are many. Some of the most popular holidays Holidays include, Dragon Boat Festival, Mid-Autumn Festival, National Day, Lantern Festival, and the list goes on. Add these to America’s major holidays, and you’ll discover most people enjoy more free time than they know what to do with. To occupy their time, most Chinese travel to their hometowns where family and classmates gather to celebrate. It’s common for locals to invite foreigners along to show off their new lao wai peng you (foreign friend). Like 4^th of July in America, holidays are celebrated with fireworks. Displays are perhaps some of the best in the world, with no restrictions. Chinese promote openings of new businesses with fireworks as well, no matter what time of year. A foreigner will soon get used to the sounds of exploding fireworks illuminating the sky with colorful arrays of celebration.

Entertainment

When not visiting hometowns, people often enjoy one of the many entertainment facilities located around the country. California may be the entertainment capital of the world, but China has its share of amusement parks as well. Shanghai is completing a Disneyland, Beijing and Shenzhen offer Happy Valley (an equivalent to Magic Mountain in California). Travel around the world without leaving Windows of the World, also in Shenzhen. Many more amusement parks exist within China, and locals are always ready to accompany foreign friends. China’s movie industry is on the brink of becoming equivalent to California. Many countries have discovered it’s much less expensive to film a movie in China, and the resources and locations are abundant. Look out Hollywood.

Chinese take pride in their meticulously manicured parks, rife with an exotic aroma of flowers, ginkgo and thousand year old banyans. Forests of bamboo with croaking frogs on the waterside give you the jungle feeling. Flowing springs meander into fountains and lakes. Small entertainment areas geared for children are a popular attraction at most parks. It’s the perfect place to rest under a willow and read your favorite book. Popular park activities include hiking, fishing, and of course one of China’s national sports, badminton. Conveniently located, parks are always within walking distance no matter where you live in a city.

Rivers are found in most cities of China, although exclusively used by work boats carrying large mounds of sand or refuse. It’s not a beautiful sight, but one that easily passes in a few minutes. It’s almost impossible to find private recreation boats or a marina on any river, with the exception of the occasional romantic riverboat cruise. After enjoying a peaceful day at the park, local pubs and nightclubs are a favorite venue amongst foreigners and locals. Nightlife lasts until 2:00 in the morning, with many open until the last person stumbles out. After the locals down a few Qingdao beers, a foreigner quickly obtains celebrity status and mobbed with new friends. No need to worry how to get home, taxis are abundant and always waiting outside, just remember how to tell them where you live without slurring.

When we think of a communist country, we have visions of police storming into houses unannounced. China is far from that. In most circumstances of daily life, China enjoys more freedoms than most countries. Relocating to another country is a difficult decision to make, but before scratching it off your list, consider all China has to offer. This land painted red, may end up being just what you were seeking. Give this third-world playground a chance to prove itself to you, you might be pleasantly surprised.

A Foreigner's Birthday in China

Closing your eyes and making a wish before blowing out birthday candles is a custom that most countries enjoy. But a word of warning, if you're in China, NEVER close your eyes around a birthday cake!

The school I taught at was located on a back street on the edge of a small tourist town called Yangshuo, one of China's most popular tourist sites. It is well known for its many rivers and streams that meander through green Chinese hat shaped mountains. Being located on a rarely traveled back street, our school enjoyed the luxury of utilizing the surrounding properties for events. Canopies, tables, chairs, and ping pong tables were fixed to the sidewalk across the street for students and staff to use.

It was a night of toss and turns. Sheep counting turned into sheep herding; sheep herding turned into sheep sheering; and sheep sheering turned into pork chops on a plate. My mind was a turbulent mess of tumbling trivia. I opened my eyes to a dimly lit room and thought, ‘Today I’m fifty years old.’ I glanced at the clock resting on my nightstand and saw it was early. I propped myself up against the headboard, and stared at the black screen on my TV. My small one bedroom dormitory was located on the floor above the classrooms. It was comfortable and sufficient for one person.

I continued to stare at the reflection on my TV, clicking through the channels of my life, stopping just long enough to preview the highlights. It was a show that included almost all genres with me as the writer, producer, director, and actor.  Subjectively, my life was an Emmy Award winning series.

At the request of several of my friends, we spent the day together. They mapped out the day with a few activities, which I later learned was a ploy to keep me away from from the school. We swam in the Li River as bamboo rafts drifted by carrying photo snapping tourists. They treated me to my favorite English restaurant which was situated in the midst of other small restaurants. Street performers demonstrated their Ninja and magic skills; contortionists exhibited their flexibility; there were jugglers and fortune tellers at every corner. You would think you were visiting a circus.

After lunch, we bicycled on paths along a smaller river that weaved through the beautiful countryside and green mountains, making frequent stops along the way to watch children leap effortlessly from waterfalls. The children succeeded in coaxing us into jumping with them. Being afraid of heights, I was quite apprehensive. After remembering what day it was, I decided, ‘What the heck,’ and accepted their invitation.

I stood on the cliff top staring down at what seemed to be twice the distance from looking up from below. I took a deep breath and, “Geronimo!” I screamed. I hit the water like a bag of bricks. Not quite the world class entry I was hoping for. I struggled out of the water in pain, but wasn’t afraid anymore. I decided to make another plunge. The next jump was performed with a bit more grace, but still, definitely not a gold medal candidate.

The sun beat down on us as we continued our trek through the countryside, stopping to take a short dip in a river pool surrounded by trees and sounds of a waterfall. After a short swim, we climbed out and dried ourselves off. One of my friends, Andreas, a music composer from Greece, remained in the water and ventured downstream for awhile. A garbled yell soon came from around a short bend. We trotted downstream and met Andreas swimming against the current in horror. The force had begun taking him towards a waterfall. With a futile  attempt at swimming upstream, Andreas screamed out, “Help me! I don’t want to die!”

As Andreas frantically flailed about. We could see the terror in his eyes as he fought to refuse his untimely desmise. Sorry to say, we could not stop laughing. Like our previous cliff jumping episode, your perspective is distorted when previewing something from another angle. Andreas didn’t realize that the waterfall was a mere two foot drop at the most, and since we could see the bottom of the river from the shoreline, We yelled to him, “Stand up! Just stand up!” Our words fell on deaf ears.

Finally, a laughing bystander waded in a short distance and grabbed Andreas’ death-like grip. Andreas was saved. After some verbal beatings from Andreas and our continued laughter, we decided to return to the school.

A welcoming breeze had filled the air as we coasted into the vicinity of the school. The days activities provided exercise, excitement, and Andreas’ near death experience. I lazily climbed the four stories to my room, showered, and reenacted the bag of bricks dive onto my bed. I glanced at the clock, it was still ticking forward and as usual, on time.

A couple of hours went by when I was awaken by a knock on my door. It was Peter. Peter was a professional artist from Leeds, England. We did everything together, and still remain best friends in China. With a soft English accent and a slight grin, his solemn words sounded like a guards dreaded announcement from the Green Mile. “It’s time bud.”

I donned some fresh clothes and ran downstairs. Peter and a few friends then escorted me to a nearby restaurant. When we entered the room everyone yelled, “Happy Birthday!”The room was full of friends. It was the first surprise party for me.

During dinner, there were repeated toasts of “Happy Birthdays,” with China’s nasty white wine known as “bai jiu.” With its color and consistent innocence of water, it had a lethal kick of 54%. If you’re not used to drinking, this is something you definitely want to stay away from. It isn’t pretty. Not being much of a drinker, I sipped the poison in moderation.

Everyone remained eating and drinking, the room was full of fun and laughter. Every now and then, I witnessed signs of people whispering about me. When Chinese secretly speak of other people, they have a tendency to whisper in each others ears, look at the person they’re referring to, and often point at the person they’re talking about. So much for being inconspicuous. I didn’t care though. There secret actions told me the night wasn’t over.

The time had arrived to leave the restaurant. Most guys stumbled out of the restaurant, while the girls kept organized: acting like they were following an agenda. The instant we turned the corner towards the school, I saw what looked like a County Fair. There was a banner with multi-colored streamers, flags and balloons hung from one side of the street to the other; several BBQ’s were set up; there were large speakers with a computer for music; and table clothes drapped over tables in canopies. Written across the huge banner was, “Happy 50^thBirthday, Rick!” My first thought was, ‘Great. A public announcement of my age,' but as I wiped the tear from my eye, I got over it. I couldn’t believe they went through all this trouble for me. My emotions were difficult to hold back as I began getting a bit misty.

Guys picked me up and carried me on their shoulders under the banner while others took photos, and music played. I glanced down at Peter and jokingly yelled, “Paybacks are a $%&#. I owe you big time.”

He just smiled then said, “I just told them it was your birthday, they did the rest, buddy.”

We ate BBQ, drank and danced into the night. It was a beautiful birthday block party that was heard from many streets away. People from neighboring locations came to join in the festivities.

During a short lull in the action, a table rolled out of the school lobby with the customary large pink box on it. A circle of people formed around the rolling table, inching their way to a canopy. Several moments later, I was standing over the cake ready to make my wish and blow. Written on the cake was, “Happy 50^thBirthday, Rick.”

Everyone sang Happy Birthday. I closed my eyes; made my annual wish that ‘time would stand still for a day’; drew a deep breath; and with a little help from the breeze successfully extinguished all the candles. Cheers and claps echoed in the street. After cutting the cake, equal slices were placed on paper plates and distributed. I remember the cake was a cool creamy custard, with slices of assorted glazed fresh fruit toppings: kiwi, papaya, mango, dragon fruit, peach, and banana. It was beautful art.

Some customs in China vary depending on location. That evening, I learned another new custom. In Yangshou, cake isn’t for eating. After everyone received their slice of cake, shifty eyes and suspicious stares pinpointed targets. This small quiet educational neighborhood was about to turn into a chaotic war zone. I would later learn, this would not be my last cake riot.

Another thing I learned was, once cake gets on a part of your body, it has an tendency to travel to other unspeakable parts. Again, not pretty. People ran up and down the street, hiding behind cars, under tables, behind each other. Even innocent onlookers were ambushed. Once behind enemy lines, you were guaranteed to get pelted. After forty-five minutes of retreat and revenge, people tired and gave up. The party came to a close with a public shower (with clothes on) by means of hoses sprayed in the air. It was a welcomed rainfall under a warm starlit sky with pieces of fruit falling from bodies.

Back in my room, the black screen of the TV hypnotized my attention. As I clicked through the channels of the day, I determined that my life was indeed an Academy Award winner. Before closing my eyes, I glanced at the clock on my nightstand, it was still on time. I’m happy my wish didn’t come true, and time still ticks forward. I now prefer to live my life in real time.

A Change of Plans

This morning I woke up knowing exactly what I would do today, but not knowing how it would turn out – kind of the way it was everyday in China. Being a foreigner, you pretty much learn to expect the unexpected: nothing ever seems to go the way it’s planned. Later I would come to find out – that today would be no exception.

I gazed out at the clear October sky, choking down previous nights leftovers of kung pao chicken, while carefully examining the list of activities I put together with the assistance of my staff. Typically reluctant of venturing out alone, today was the day to conquer any fear I might have. The city of Dongguan takes about three hours from one end to the other by bus. My staff had written all my directions on a piece of paper to give to the lucky drivers who didn’t have a clue how to speak English, and of course my Chinese is about as clear as a man speaking with a mouth full of food while walking on hot coals barefoot. Not a pleasant verbal experience to listen to.

I strolled down four blocks of sidewalk to the bus stop wearing comfortable tennis shoes, cargo pants and a backpack. I returned nods and an occasional, “Hello, nice to meet you,” in which I always replied, “Hello, do I know you?” Most didn’t have a clue what I was saying, so it always brought laughter from them. People here don’t normally get an opportunity to see a westerner in real life, so we’re constantly the center of attention, something I’ve never gotten quite used to. Bus twenty-one was twenty minutes late, typical for China. I’m glad it wasn’t the number 121 bus. I eyeballed an empty seat and began making my way for it, beating out a younger fellow. The next bus stop brought a grandmother aboard holding a can of powdered baby milk. No seats were available, so I motioned her to take my seat. She insistently refused, but I stood up with a smile suggesting that it was no bother. The younger fellow who I beat out earlier, saw the opportunity and made a dash, throwing himself at my seat. I looked down at him and shook my head, gesturing that it was for the grandmother. Respecting the elderly Chinese people do, he rose and gave her the seat.

I reached my first destination, the Dongguan Museum of Cultural Arts. I didn’t need the translated piece of paper this time, the bus stopped directly in front of it. The massive western styled architecture sparred no expense. The white pillared building sat well off the street. The beautiful flowered gardens trailed off into the trees along winding paths. Fountains of water divided the walkway leading up to the steps to the entry. There were meticulously painted gazebo’s with table and chairs scattered around the area where flurries of people seriously played board and card games. Others were doing their morning tai chi, as several just took a simple stroll. It was clearly a way to celebrate the day off work.

As I neared the foot of the fountains, everyone turned to see the foreigner, or as we’re referred to in China, lao wai, I began my march to the front doors – feeling like a runway model. Again, I returned smiles and greetings along the way. When I reached the doors, a sign was posted announcing their business hours – 15:00 to 21:00. I stood in awe, wondering what to do next. The back of my neck was being pelted by needles of stares. I turned around and faced the crowd glaring up at me. Perhaps they expected a song and dance from the lao wai. I needed to kill some time, so I decided to find a shaded area that was semi-secluded, an impossibility on this particular morning. I choose a book from my library in my iPad, a handy tool that I never left home without.

A few hours went by undisturbed with the exception of a few children flocking around me like they were viewing a zoo animal. One even offered me some candy which I politely refused. I forgot my ‘Don’t feed the animals’ sign. They dispersed upon the screams of their mother who might have been saying, “Get away from that, do you want to be eaten?!” Harmless as I looked, I must have still been a potential threat – after all, I was getting a bit hungry. Acclimated to Chinese customs, it was nearing 12:00 – time for lunch. I closed my iPad and aimlessly stumbled down the street searching for a place that fed hungry animals.

It was no surprise where the waitress sat me – next to the window. Restaurant staff always sat me where I’d get the most exposure to possible patrons. I couldn’t help but feel that I was on display to attract more customers. As I studied the menu looking for pictures, the waitress came over to take my order. There were no pictures. I was forced to resort to my custom, one of the reasons why I don’t get out much, I surveyed the room then signaled to a dish just being served to a man sitting at a table by himself. I said, “I’ll take that.” The waitress glanced over her shoulder. With a confident stance, she sauntered over to the gentleman, took his plate, and carried it back to me. I watched her with surprise and amazement, but as us foreigners like to say, “TIC,” or “This is China.” With an empty placemat in front of him, the man spoke to the waitress. She said something back to him then left the room. Embarrassment took over my hunger pains. He continued to glance at me and smile. I smiled and shrugged at him. He motioned to me as if to say, “It’s okay, you look like you need it more than I do," although I almost doubled his stature.

Trying to forget about stealing the man’s food, I tried to eat his meal in peace. I soon noticed people clustering on the sidewalk. My first thought was something bad happened. As I paid a little more attention, I noticed that it was me who was attracting all the attention. I honestly felt like a monkey in a zoo. People pointed and motioned others to look at the display in the window – I never thought I’d be a photo opportunity. Complete strangers were laughing and pointing. Did I have food on my face? A blemish? A stray nose hair? I could only interpret their words as, “Oh look, he eats like we do. He even drinks the same way we do.” This spectacle attracted the attention of everyone in the restaurant. My head was squeezing like a vice with glares from both sides. I got out my trusty iPad and began reading. “Oh look, he even reads like we do.”

I had enough. I surveyed the busy room and waved to my waitress – it was time for this monkey to pay the bill and escape from the zoo. She smiled, waved back, and went on with her work. I sat patiently for a few minutes then waved to her again. The same smile, the same wave. I reached in my pocket and waved my cash to her. She worked her way through the tables towards me, pointing at the man whose lunch I just ate. She was trying to tell me he had taken care of my bill. He turned and gave me a wink and a friendly smile. I couldn’t believe it. I steal the man’s food, then he pays for it. You never know what’s going to happen in China, it’s about as consistent as the weather. The man stands up, wearing a pair of dress slacks and black shoes. He looked like he just had a hard day at the office. Standing over me, he asks, “Where are you from?” in almost perfect English.

Introducing himself as Michael, he took the initiative and helped himself to a seat across from me. His wife and children were visiting her parents, so he had the day to himself. He was a Vice President of a large company in town that manufactured and exported portable massage devices. After telling him my plans for the day, he invited me to go hiking with him. He seemed pleasant enough with a good sense of humor, so I gladly accepted – something I never would do. I figured after eating his food for free, it was the least I could do.

During our bout through the Saturday maze of traffic, we chortled over conversation and became better acquainted – my mother would have had a fit for getting into a car with a stranger. The way I looked at it though, I was the stranger. We stopped at the base of the mountain we would soon be hiking. He turned the car off and pointed to the peak. There were many hikers so I knew this was a popular place to hike. It was gift exchange time. I reached in my backpack and gave him a book I wrote. Like others, he requested I write something in it and sign it for him. He then reached in his backseat and gave me a box. It was a portable massage device that his company manufactured. When I returned home that evening, I opened it to find little electrode gel pads that stick to your body along with a controller with various settings. I’m using it right now as I write. We spent the afternoon hiking alongside a rushing river with beautiful lush grass and China Hat mountains framing us in. We made several stops along the way, talking like old friends catching up on years missed, and enjoying the beauty that could inspire any artist. 

The hike down was just as pleasant as the hike up, but with fewer stops. Being nearly dinner time, 18:00 in China, I accepted his offer to dine with him, but only if he agreed to allow me to pay for it this time. He wouldn’t consider it, “I invited you. It wouldn’t be right for you to pay.” After several attempts of insisting and threatening not to go, he gave in. He took me to what appeared to be a five-star hotel which was soon confirmed by the large marbled lobby and all the upper-scale restaurants outlining the 2^nd floor balcony. At his suggestion, we headed for the finest of them all. It was The Japanese Steak and Sushi House. We took our shoes off and dined on the plush carpeted floor Japanese style. The waitresses donned authentic style Japanese kimono’s with wooden sandals called Geta. It was the best USDA choice steak since being in the west, and the sushi kept coming. We must have sampled every raw fish dish on the menu.

Rubbing our stomachs, Michael excused himself to use the restroom. I sat there for awhile hypnotized by all the empty dishes on the table. I called the waitress over and requested the check. She gestured that it had already been taken care of. He beat me to the punch… again.

Upon arriving home I promised him I’d come to his house sometime to eat dinner and meet his family. I watched him drive away and disappear into the night. On the way up the elevator my mind was busy rehashing the day. I took out the piece of paper from my pocket; reviewed my plans for the day; formed into a small snowball; then tossed into the waste basket. Once again, I learned to expect the unexpected, but this time I didn’t mind. I did something I normally wouldn’t have done today, I said ‘yes,’ and I met a good friend.