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.