A Day In Shanghai

Since my arrival, my days have been jam packed with mini adventures as I try relentlessly to get settled into this new city. Overall, I have been quite successful in some things and not so successful in others however, each day I move one step closer to getting a permanent place to stay, an education, a job and miscellaneous things like a cell phone (which has proven to be invaluable). My friend Kara has been a huge help and has shown me around enough to get my bearings, but when she works I am very much left to my own devices and although it makes things a little harder, it has jumpstarted my Chinese and makes things more interesting.

Since I am on a low budget, I very much need to get a job on the side of my studies. Tingshuo (word is) that the best way for a white, English-speaking foreigner to make money is through tutoring and teaching. So I do what most college graduates are best at: I search online for tutoring positions in HongKou district where I hope to be living and studying. I finally come across a request for an English tutor and with a “why not” attitude, I fill out the application and send in my resume. Twenty minutes later I receive an e-mail telling me that Rachel has received my application and wants me to send her my photo. Skeptical but slightly desperate, I send her what she asked for and five minutes later I receive an invitation to come to her office for an interview. Being alone in Kara’s apartment with nothing yet to do, I decide to go. I write down the directions and head down the street to the subway station.

The air is so hot and stuffy outside that going underground is a quite a relief. Since the expo, the public transportation is excellent, which is quite nice considering it is hard enough to figure out which stop is which because they are all written in Chinese. Thank goodness for pinyin (alphabetized Chinese)! Once I get down the stairs, I zip through security to Line 1. Riding the subway in Shanghai is just like in any other city except that people stare. Although I would like to think that I can adapt to any environment, there is no getting past the I-am-a-tourist with my tall, curvy looks and my practical shoes and backpack. Ya, no chance. In Rackai French there is a colloquial and rather aggressive way of addressing the stare with “tu veux ma photos ^%$#?” (you want my picture?). Although I would never say anything, on this particular subway ride the lady sitting opposite was watching me so very carefully that the saying came in to my head as I stared back at her. And then, out of nowhere she popped out her phone and snapped a picture. I guess that’s where the saying comes from.

To get to my final destination, I needed to get off at Renmin square and then take like 2. With everyone else, I get off the subway, but unlike everyone else, I take the stairs. “Haha,” I think. “I am so clever and faster than all of you and…” and as I get to the top I am inundated with tens of thousands of Chinese people, pushing, criss-crossing and whizzing through the maze that is the transition station. It’s like a river, a massive flow of people and there is no other way than to jump in. Once you are in, it is very easy to just go with the flow, but once I realized that I had missed the exit out of the flow of people to get to Line 2, it was even harder backtracking than if I had missed a stop on the subway. However, I managed.

When Line 2 arrives I am standing at the very front of the entrance, again thinking I am so cool and going to get a good seat. But the train pulls up and I quickly realize that there are as many people who want to get off as there are getting on, AND no one will wait. Conclusion? I am going to get crushed between both the in and out waves of people. With panic, I jump out of the way just in time and head to the back of the line. Seats are over rates anyways.

When I get to my final stop, it is a welcome and bedazzled relief to be outside again although this time I am not too sure where to go. After walking around huge skyscrapers and commercial centers, wanting to laugh at the Chinese version of Papa Johns pizza, dance to Lady Gaga blasting out of stores as hard as the air-conditioning, and cry out of frustration for being lost, I finally find where I am supposed to be. The office is an agency called Linguatutor, which facilitates a link between tutor and tutee. To my relief it is clean and very professional, and not sketchy. Before I get a chance to sit down, Rachel greets be with a smile and steers me into a cool and comfortable room. Amy is scheduled to interview me and is very impressed by my elaborate and convincing bullshit-esque experiences teaching English in Tanzania and Yunnan. At the end she tells me that she will contact me the moment she finds me a client and I leave the building feeling relieved and delighted to have not only adventured on my own, but that this opportunity turned out to be legitimate. Low and behold, I got a call from Amy yesterday telling me that I will be tutoring a 6-year-old Chinese boy on weekends and that I am meeting him on Monday. Hen hao!

Now I really need to find an apartment. So yesterday I headed off to Hong Kou district to explore the area and my campus. Since I was advised that renting an apartment would be cheaper than paying for a two-person bedroom on campus, I have decided to keep student housing as a last resort. I found the main street and a real estate agency and, again having nothing else to do, decided to figure out a way to see an apartment. I first asked if anyone spoke English. They all shook their heads and said “bu shuo, bu shuo” (don’t speak, don’t speak). So, in my best Chinese I try to tell them what I want. The minute I open my mouth, the four of them are all throwing questions my way. Yes, I am American, no I don’t have a lot of money, yes I want a bathroom included in the apartment, no I don’t want it to be too expensive, yes I am a student, no I am not studying economics and finance, I am studying Chinese, etc, etc, etc. Finally they agree that they will take me to see an apartment but before, I have to “deng yi shiar, deng yi shiar”. So I wait. Before long, a young Asian man walks in and I am hopeful that he speaks English and is the landlord. He does speak some English but he is just another costumer. No matter, we are both whisked away to see the apartment. The agent leading the way is a little aggressive and very abrasive but I don’t care because I am glad to have the young man to talk with. Kim is from South Korea and he is here studying finance and business and is looking for his own place away from “very noisy” roommates. Bummer, I am his competition. Oh well.

When we get to the apartment, it is a very nice place, fully furnished, with a kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. It is very small but clean and newly renovated. My heart sinks however, when I hear the price: 2500 yuan. Way out of my measly 1700 budget. So, I tell the landlord I will think about it and that in the meantime I want to see a cheaper place. Because I am a foreigner, there is this assumption that I am loaded with money, so she doesn’t understand why I would want a cheaper place. After huffing and puffing and saying no then yes then no, I finally get her to take me to place that is worth 1700 yuan. Unfortunately, Kim has another appointment but leaves me with his phone number and tells me to call him if I need any more help. Grateful, I say goodbye and start walking again.

I know enough Chinese to carry a small conversation and I try to be as amiable as possible and thank the agent for her time. In exchange she looks at me pinches my arms and tells me I am fat. At first, I am so surprised that I think I have miss-understood her. When I ask her to repeat herself she looks at me, opens her arms around her waist and says very loudly “ni shi hen pang!” (you are very fat). Rather offended but trying to keep my cool, I shrug my shoulders. Now she is the one that is super chatty and seems to think that if she speaks louder, I can understand better. I keep smiling and nodding and saying “dui” or “shi”, at the end of whatever I think is a question. Finally, we arrive at the apartment but the person who is supposed to meet us with the key is not there so we wait outside. Actually, I wait. She walks around the building screaming at the top of her lungs to see if anyone is there. Again, I can’t tell if she is being obnoxious or if it is a cultural thing. While I wait a young girl walks by and asks me if I am here to see the apartment for rent in the 4th floor. Yes, I say and as it turns out she lives next to the apartment and knows the person who is trying to rent it.

Nina is Taiwanese and is here studying her masters in economics and finance (no wonder the people at the agency were surprised when I told them I wasn’t studying economics and finance). Nina is quick to tell me that she has seen the place and advises me to look elsewhere, but before we can finish the conversation, the son of the person with the keys shows up without the keys and tells us that we can’t see the apartment now but we can tomorrow. When I try to take down his phone number to meet up tomorrow, the agent pushes me back and points at her chest talking fiercely in Chinese. Looking at Nina in desperation, she translates and says that the agent wants me to go through her directly. Argh! I am being conned. With a basic instinct, I finally turn to the agent and I lie. I agree to meet her at 9am the next morning, with every intention of not showing up. When she walks away, Nina and I finally have a chance to talk and as luck would have it the person with the keys shows up. So we all walk up together to see the place.

The small apartment is the opposite of the one before. It is barren, half painted, with cement flooring, a dirty brown bathtub, no washer, fridge or lock on the balcony. Nina was right. Seeing the look of discouragement on my face, Nina invites me into her place and tells me how to go about getting what I want. En bref, I need one or more roommates and gives me websites and numbers to call. I thank Nina from the bottom of my heart and after two hours of getting lost around the most touristy part of shanghai, I finally jump in a taxi and had back to Kara’s place.

Job, check. Apartment, needs more work. Registration for classes, Wednesday. I am on a roll!