Fortunately for me, my job is mostly translational and I’ll not have to give any long and/or personal speeches. It’s not my great fear of public speaking that has me relieved, but the fact that despite having gotten to know this friend quite well, we’ve only been such for a little more than a year – a short time to come up with a scandalous collection of “this one time…” stories.

The odd part is, that year-friendship is long-term by expats in China standards. It’s the nature of the beast that most expats come to China for not much more than 6 months to a year and then return from whence they came.

It was on this topic that him and I got talking last weekend as we worked out a (small) guest list for his bachelor party. As he said best, when you know your friends are going to leave to go “home” in the not-so-distant future, you tend to keep them at arm’s reach, making more acquaintances than true friendships.

I’ve met some amazing people in my time here in China, and certainly feel grateful for those relationships, but it’s true that if put to a litmus test, most would likely fall into that “acquaintance” category. Though had we all been living “back home”, there’s a good chance solid and lasting friendships would form, as a stranger in a strange land, such things are fleeting.

Like my friend, I’ve noticed that I don’t spend as much time as I used to on developing a social circle with much depth, simply because I know that circle is going to be going through continual, and drastic, changes and require constant and vigil attention to maintain it.

Now, the obvious solution to this would be to befriend locals. However, it’s more of a challenge than it sounds. In my 3+ years here I’ve yet to have a true Chinese friend. By our very nature, us expats tend to attract a “special” kind of Chinese person – generally the type that is looking for free English practice, or some presumed 关系.

This, of course, is limited in scope due to my lacking Chinese skills, but is enough to have jaded me to the whole idea of making good Chinese friends that are just fun to grab a beer with, shoot the shit and wax political.

So, until I find the magic spot where all the hip Chinese hang out, expats it is.

It is, however, a bit of a cold, sad fact that one of the first few questions I ask after meeting someone new here has changed from “So, how long you been here?” to “So, how long you staying?”

Though I still plan to post my wife Maggie’s impressions of Canada, that involves sorting photos and recollecting exactly what we did while away – time consuming endeavors. In the meantime, I thought I’d share some of the things I was somewhat surprised to find out people just don’t know about China.

1. By and large people in China wear the same clothes as the rest of the world: This one comes from a comment made to Maggie at her Welcome to Canada party. An attendee (notice the lack of naming names) point blank asked Maggie if she had bought the clothes she was wearing in Canada or in China. After a hesitant “In China, why?” from my wife, it was revealed that the asker simply assumed that Chinese wore distinctly different clothes. I’m curious to know if they had images of Shaolins, Manchus, or Maoists in mind.
2. Chinese food in North America is generally Cantonese or domestically fabricated: This one came up quite a lot as Maggie’s complaints of missing food from home grew louder and louder. I had to explain to friends and family that 90% of Chinese food found outside Chinatown is likely to be what is generally classified as “Cantonese”, as in from Guangdong and/or Hong Kong – both of which, though quite populous, are only a small part of the whole country. The reason for this prevalence of Cantonese food in Western nation is that traditionally the majority of Chinese immigrants came from this area.
3. China speaks Mandarin not Cantonese: Closely related to #2, this is another common misconception among Neverbeens, and for all the same reasons. While China has an endless number of local dialects, of which Cantonese is one, Mandarin is the de facto Chinese language, and incidentally the No. 1 spoken language in the world – though the guy giving you chop suey, chicken balls and fortune cookies is not likely speaking it.
4. Chinese don’t use ovens: This one came as the biggest surprise to me. I’m not sure why I assumed every Neverbeen knew that 99% of all Chinese homes are missing the most beautiful of baking boxes, but time after time I found myself listing to gasped “But, but how do they make bread, bake cookies, roast turkey!?!” Well folks, 1) they steam it. 2) they buy them in a box or at a Taiwanese bakery, and 3) Turkey? Strictly for export.
5. Communism is a farce: Most definitely the most overly-confused issue for Neverbeens as relating to China is the conflicting reports of capitalism running amok in what is the world’s largest communist state. Now to set the record straight, China is – in no way, shape or form – communist. State-run monopolies are at a minimum, there are no mass socialistic programs (Canada’s health care and welfare systems are more inclusive), and free enterprise is (somewhat annoyingly) rampant. It’s 100% capitalistic, but under a one-party, authoritarian system. The blame for this confusion should not be put on Neverbeens though, but rather on the shoulders of China’s government and their misnomer of a name – perhaps its time to update the name to better reflect the times in which we live – might I suggest the Cool Party of China, and you’ll not even have to change all your CPC embroidered ping pong polo shirts.

Well, there you have it – my list of things I noticed were the most common unknown or misunderstood bits of China for the Canucks I ran into. Got any to add?

Sure, I still get pissed off at the “HELLOOOOOs” and the whispered “shhysehsshsheshlaowaishehshsheksdlkjed”, but the truth is, I’ve settled in.

The moment I realized this was when I noticed I never bring my camera anywhere anymore. It used to be that I’d bring my camera along to the most mundane things in case there was a photo op that would help capture what it is to live in this randomest of all random places.

I don’t notice it anymore.

Last week I was out at the local Irish pub for the 100RMB all-you-can-drink hangover-giver the other night and it was jammed with a bunch of American and Mexican students that had just completed a Chinese course at Suzhou University. They were out for one last big hurrah before they all dispersed back to their lives back home.

People were pished, flashes were blinding, girls were dancing on the stage and singing convincingly into a microphone that was missing its connective bits. It was a blast – for them.

It wasn’t so long ago that I was doing my own rounds of “good bye”, “I can’t believe you’re staying”, “we’ve got to keep in touch”, “best of luck down in Thailand on your way back”, etc… but somewhere around the fourth or fifth round of them it lost its flavor. However, strangely enough, I really miss it.

I certainly don’t miss saying goodbye to people, that’s the worst part of being a long-term laowai. Imagine having relationships with people like you did when you were in college, but instead of a year-by-year basis, it works in terms of 6, 8 and 12 month contracts. It sucks. And though you promise (as you did in college) to keep in touch with everyone … eventually that moment that was real begins to fade, and no amount of “hey man, long time no talk” e-mails can bring that back.

Well, I don’t miss that, and I guess it’s no coincidence that my social circle has adjusted to reflect that, with many of my friends now being fellow long-timers.

However, I miss the excitement of it all. I miss going to a meal and wondering what the hell I’d just ordered, and if I can brag about eating it to my friends back home. I miss living for the school breaks so I can jump around to various tourist spots (now I’m reluctant to even travel to the corner store).

I miss telling people when I am leaving and what I plan to do next.

The college analogy runs true with this as well I guess. There’s just such a similarity (perhaps largely due to the age of the players involved) to those free-wheelin’ years of higher academia. Well, I’ve been here two and a half years now, I’ve graduated. I’ve moved into the real world of having to figure things out and work China into my life, rather than my life into China.

With school ending in the next couple weeks, I’m reaching the end of another chapter of the China experience. Friends/co-workers are leaving, and personally many things are changing.

So it was, last night I found myself with a real-estate agent viewing an apartment she was looking to populate. It was then that it dawned on me that I wasn’t actually looking at apartments because I wanted to move, but more just because every time change had previously occurred in my life in China, it meant a new apartment.

I’ve got a nice little apartment though, and don’t really need nor want to move. I’ve only lived here five months, the price is good, the size is good, the location is good… but still there I was, chatting about neighbourhood-quality, closest vegetable markets, etc. with some lady.

So, needless to say, my mind is a mess with which direction it’s meant to go. However, through all of this – the reminiscing, the confusion, the challenges ahead – there’s still an underlying feeling I’m on the right path. I had that feeling when I first decided to quit the ‘good job’ back home and start travelling, I had that feeling when I left for China, I had that feeling when I scraped my plans to leave China, and I had that feeling when I asked my wife to marry me…

I may not have it all sorted out, but I have to assume I’m doing something right.