Today was an awesome first full day back in Canada.

I went to a grocery store and had reverse culture shock combined with jet lag as I walked up and down the aisles looking at all the foods and choices . . .

I bought some wild salmon, dill pickles, Kraft Miracle Whip, whole wheat tortillas, canned tuna, canned sardines (I LOVE THEM), Breyer’s vanilla ice-cream, strawberries, romaine lettuce, baby carrots, and more . . . it was awesome!!!

Oh, and the weather today? Low 20s with low humidity, some clouds and a little rain that then turned into sun and clouds . . . it was absolutely GORGEOUS in contrast with high 30s plus humidex putting the temperature in the low 40s back in Changsha, China . . .

But then I’m not there anymore–I’m in CANADA!!!

J

p.s. There will be a few more blog posts here but I am setting up a new photography blog for my summer vacation. The name of it is Photography in Peterborough. It will take a few days to get it up and running but I expect to post my first pics tomorrow.

Nearby “Chinese” Restaurant, originally uploaded by The Fractured Idealist.

This restaurant sits about 100 feet away from my parent’s home in Peterborough, Ontario….after having just gotten back from China I think it’s hilarious to see and will check out what they have soon–and then contrast it with REAL Chinese food, lol.

J

I finished the last little bits of packing I needed to do before it was time to head down to load the car our university provided to take me to the airport (and later Julianne for her afternoon flight).  A co-worker/friend heard Julianne and I coming out of our apartment and decided to see me off (though she initially thought it was ‘us’ leaving at the same time).  We got downstairs and saw what we thought was the car but the driver was nowhere to be seen.

Our university student-assistant showed up to help and make sure everything was ready (i.e. the driver!) and we all stood around in the morning heat and humidity sweating and wondering where the driver was although he did have five minutes before the set time to leave.  It was a little awkward (in my mind anyways) standing there with two other people besides Julianne and I because I wanted to spend my last few minutes with her alone . . . but it couldn’t be helped.  Julianne will spend several weeks in America while I’m in Canada with each of us taking some time off and preparing for the next ‘big adventure’ overseas teaching English (more on that later).  We just made do in spite of wanting to be alone, and me being a little distracted with worry about where the driver was and if he was going to show up.

The driver shows up on time (my cell phone time was running slow) and we load the car.  Our co-worker/friend gives me a hug and then heads upstairs, and I ask our student-assistant to give me a minute to say goodbye to Julianne.  We say our goodbyes and I get into the car which looks like a 2011 model–very new and very nice! The ‘irony’ behind all this being that we had to stalk the university liaison/secretary for six days with no success by cell phone messages (that went unanswered!!!) until finally on Monday morning (the day before we leave!) our student-assistant calls her and asks her to confirm that we have a car booked for each of our departure times to get us to the airport (a perk that our contracts give us) . . .

Anyways, the car pulls out and I pick up my camera thinking I’ll snap my last shots of China on the way to the airport but I’m so tired that I decide to just enjoy the ride (and watch traffic to make sure we don’t get in an accident on the way there!).  Twenty minutes or so later we arrive at Changsha’s “International” Airport and I get my luggage and head into what I hope is the international departures area (signs are not good).

Inside, I look around to see that the overhead lights are not turned on (but think that could just be to save power) and wonder where I’m supposed to go and wait when there are very few English signs.  Outside the doors I had entered was a sign saying “Hong Kong” and three other destinations so I had assumed that since my layover/transfer was there that I was heading into the right place.

Then I see another expat trying to talk to a security guard who apparently has no English but is posted at the ‘international’ desk . . . nice!  The guard grabs an employee who is entering through the barrier and asks her to talk to the expat–I hear “Hong Kong” and see her head nod and I decide to walk over and confirm with her that I’m also in the right place.  She looks a little exasperated to be doing a job that probably is outside her job description but is friendly and helps me out.

The other expat and I introduce ourselves and I find out that he’s an American teacher but was only in Changsha on business for a short stay.  We sit down and begin talking as we wait for the 9:30am official opening time for the check-in counters.  The conversation is good and time passes pretty quickly.

Then a bus pulls up and several Chinese travelers begin piling into the waiting area and I suggest that my new friend and I move our luggage over to the place we’ll enter through a barrier once everything opens–and it’s a good thing we do because even after positioning ourselves right next to the barrier a Chinese woman walks past everyone and puts her suitcase in front of ours . . . and later I move it behind us when she goes off to do something, ha!

Another woman gets escorted by a guy in a military uniform to the front of the dozens of people now waiting and put in front of us and I let it go because she’s probably some high ranking/rich person’s relative or girlfriend and complaining would only get stares and being ignored.

And then it’s time to check-in.  We show our e-ticket printouts and passports and get waved over to an X-ray machine which we put our stuff through–and that’s when I get pulled aside for the first time by a security person and asked to go into a side-room for an inspection of one of my suitcases.

I put my suitcase up on a steel table while my friend continues on to the check-in counters.  I open my suitcase and ask the woman what she would like to check–no answer, she just smiles.  She roots around in one particular area and pulls out . . . wait for it, wait for it, an English textbook audio CD and asks me where I bought it.  EFL/ESL CD’s are possible contraband on outgoing flights??? LOL! REALLY!  I tell her it’s mine and that I bought it outside of China years ago, and then we’re finished.  The bizarre thing, as if this could get more bizarre, is that the STACK OF BURNED CD’s I had in another part of the same suitcase never got any attention . . . yeah.

I then head over to the check-in counters thinking that I won’t have any more issues with my luggage other than one of them might be slightly over weight–wrong!!!

I see my new friend and we say hi as he passes me in line.  I wait for a woman to finish and then head to the counter.  The clerk begins processing my e-ticket and I put my first suitcase up on the conveyor belt to be weighed and, apparently, X-rayed again!  The first suitcase goes through fine with no problems and I even don’t have to pay for what I think is a couple kilograms over in weight.

Then my second suitcase rolls into the X-ray machine . . . and that’s when I begin to feel like things are beginning to get crazy.  For a minute nothing is said but my suitcase stays inside the scanning box, and then I’m asked to come behind the check-in counter.  I walk over to where there is a door that leads behind the counter and knock–it doesn’t open.  I walk around the corner back to the counter and a woman tells me to put my camera/lens backpack on the ground, squeeze between a post and the counter that looks dubiously just big enough for me to squeeze through–and I laugh and look her in the eyes and without any hesitation at all say “Uhm, no, my backpack is NOT staying out here” as I highly doubt anyone at the airport would give a damn if it was stolen with all my camera equipment.

I heft the backpack over my head and at the same time squeeze through the small space and then I’m standing behind the check-in counters and see a long row of conveyor belts leading out of the scanning boxes for each of the check-in booths–and there’s no way for me to get to my suitcase which is two sections down, but of course there’s a girl waving at me to come over to her and an older guy sitting at a computer screen with a big frown on his face . . .

I walk over to the edge of the first conveyor belt, and say “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to get the suitcase? Do you want me to step over the conveyor belts?” The girl looks mortified and says nothing but keeps gesturing, and the scanner dude glances at me and continues to scowl at his computer monitor while saying nothing.

I set my backpack down because we’re behind the counters, and climb up onto and over two conveyor belts.  I ask my questions again, get no answers but gestures (because in an international airport it makes no sense to hire people who have some English skills!), and I pick up my suitcase and lug it back over the conveyor belts to a table.

I ask the girl again what do they need to see, and what are they looking for–no answers, just nervous smiling and gesturing for me to open the suitcase.  I open it and immediately show her my two AA battery chargers thinking that that is probably what she, and scowling dude, want to see–nope, and the gesturing continues.  She asks scowling dude a question and he fires off an irritated answer, and she then begins poking and prodding my suitcase aimlessly searching for what I don’t know.

I point at the upper part that isn’t open, and she nods enthusiastically so I open it and show her what is there while trying not to move stuff too much cause I had packed it carefully to make opening and closing it not too difficult–no luck, she still hasn’t found whatever dude wants her to find.

Oh, did I mention that he’s ten feet away and already inspecting someone else’s luggage AND can’t see my suitcase or what the girl is doing? Yeah.

We return to the main compartment of my suitcase and I decide to show her all the other electronic things (some power cords, an iTouch charger head) and she shakes her head. I then show her a pair of large sized studio-grade head phones I have and she also shakes her head no–but by this point she has been told by scowling dude that he wants her to focus on the right side of my suitcase.  Knowing that there is NOTHING but my tightly rolled tshirts, socks, and underwear on that side I begin to lose my patience as I’m sweating in the heat and humidity of the check-in area.

I step away from the girl and towards the scowling dude, and call out to him and wave at him to cover over and HELP HER!  He looks at me like I’m a mosquito asking for a blood donation and I look back at him like he’s a lazy officious oaf that needs to get off his ass and do his job since he’s the one that pulled me aside for an inspection that isn’t finding anything!

I ask him in an exaggerated tone “What are you looking for?!”  He then actually stands for a second and says something to the girl who moans and says what I’m sure must be “I have no idea what to do” and then finally makes an effort to communicate by gesturing the shape and size of the object he is so keen to find.

The gestured outline is exactly that of the head phones I had ALREADY SHOWN TO MINNY MOUSE!!!  I pick them up and hold them out towards the dude and he scowls at me and immediately rejects them as the object he is searching for in spite of them being the right size and shape.  It seems he was wishing for a mortar-shell-rigged-to-a-clock-with-ticking-fuse but after I insist and the girl has gutted the right side of my luggage he gives in–and then, of course, tells me I have to put my suitcase back through the scanner one more time which means me lifting it four feet up in the air and over the counter while squeezing through the slit of space that isn’t meant to be used as an exit to do so–I should have insisted that one of the clerks or security people do it as that’s ‘normally’ THEIR JOB not the paying customer but I just wanted the whole ridiculous inspection to be over with–and then it was, finally!

Having already lost two kilos through sweating I head over to customs and actually get a semi-friendly agent.  She doesn’t say much other than a few questions to check details of my departure and she lets me keep my foreign expert permit.  This surprised me because when you leave South Korea after a contract you normally have to hand over your alien registrati0n card and I just assumed this would be the case here too–but I got to keep it.

I then go to the waiting area by the departure gate and find my American friend.  I buy 3 bottles of water and a Coke for 64 yuan (major rip-off!) and we sit and talk while waiting.  I had earlier joked that it’d be funny if we were seated together and once we get on the plane we see that he’s sitting directly across the aisle from my seat, lol.

During the 90 minute flight to Hong Kong we chat the whole time talking about his wife, family, teaching career in the US, and business he does in China, and I trade teaching stories and experiences and observations about my time in China and South Korea with him.

We land in Hong Kong and I tell him I have to ask if I need to re-check my luggage and unfortunately I never get a chance to say goodbye as we got separated exiting the plane.  I did, however, give him my blog url so if he’s reading this he’ll know what happened.

After disembarking from the airplane everyone got onto a huge bus that transported us to the airport itself–which is GI-NORMOUS!!!!

I look around inside and have no idea where I need to go so ask, and find out I have to walk about THIRTY GATE NUMBERS to my departure gate. At first I don’t think it’ll be bad because they have the moving sidewalks but then notice that both lanes are moving towards me, so I begin to walk a lot faster because I only have a two hour turn around and don’t want to somehow miss my connection.  With my heavy backpack and satchel I lose another couple kilos as I walk quickly towards the gate . . .

I find the gate with about 15 minutes to spare before boarding begins and then backtrack because Julianne had asked me to get her a bookmark or postcard in Hong Kong. I find some cool panoramic fridge magnet pictures and buy two, and then look for somewhere to buy a sandwich and drink because I didn’t know how long it’d be before they’d feed us on the flight for the first time, and the 90 minute flight had given us a tiny packet of pretzels and small glass of juice/pop/water . . . so I was pretty hungry.

Unfortunately, even after walking back a couple hundred feet I didn’t see any food places that had what I wanted so I resigned myself to waiting for the first meal on the plane.

As I walk down the boarding tunnel to the plane I see a man wearing a kind of fedora hat, light-weight summery European style short sleeved shirt and pants munching away on a wrap and wonder where he’d found it.  He scarfs it down just as he reaches the entrance to the airplane and seconds before an attendant who’d begun to stare at him with a ‘where-the-hell-do-you-think-you’re-taking-that-food-look’ . . . and that was my first introduction to the Argentinian Geriatric Brady Bunch Gang.

Before I continue on with that little gem of my travel story here is a picture of the view from inside the Hong Kong airport.  I really liked the mountains and clear blue sky with some white clouds (unlike Changsha’s grey-blue-at-best skies).

Getting back to the Argentinian Geriatric Brady Bunch Gang . . . apparently a group tour of 26 Argentinians was a part of the flight I was on and the vast majority were seated directly around my seat.  On my left was a Chinese Tiger-Mom (definition “a mother that could be a genetic hybrid of Mao/Hilter/Stalin/Sarah Palin/Mary Poppins-on-crack”) and her high school/first year university-aged daughter who sat directly beside me.  In front of me were Argentinians, behind me probably the oldest Argentinian of the group (who gets a ‘special’ place in this blog post), and to my right where the largest central rows of seats were was the main bulk of the gang.

Four of the old boys in the gang spent a good portion of the first six hours of the fourteen hour flight chatting up the ladies (who were all 50+ I think).  I got to experience the joys of one guy in particular leaning his hands, elbows, and hips on the back of the chair in front of me where I was trying to watch movies, and then on the head of my own chair which was fantastic as he kept shifting his weight making my seat bob, dip, and go up and down a little; glaring at him did nothing and I didn’t want to get into a conversation with Roberto Benigni‘s Argentinian cousin from “Life is Beautiful” . . . the one thing I did like about the entire group was their insanely powerful joie de vivre as they stood in aisles of the plane and chatted away with each other as though at a party and not on a plane.

It began with three chatting by the bathrooms but they realized after an hour that they were blocking the stewards/stewardess and other travelers trying to get through and to the bathrooms.

Later, six of them made the space in front of the emergency exit their hang out, laugh, talk, gesticulate energetically, and have fun spot. (I know the pic is blurry but I still can’t believe that no one told them they couldn’t congregate there.)

While I admired their unique (I’ve NEVER seen this many people all stand in groups and chat, and walk around to their friends sitting down and chat, for so long during an international flight) energy and manner of making time pass while flying, I really didn’t care for how loud they were after the lights were turned down and some people were trying to sleep and/or watch a movie, etc.

The old guy behind me, around the seven hour mark of the flight, apparently began to have some major issues with his legs . . . and decided to work out his pain/tinglies and frustrations by KICKING THE UNDERSIDE AND BACK OF MY FREAKING CHAIR IN RAPID FIRE BURSTS OF 3 and as many as 10 HARD KICKS!!!

I would sit up and turn and glare at him but it somehow failed to register.  I said stop in English but a good number of the gang on the flight couldn’t speak much English (though you’d think ‘stop’ might be one of the few words most would know).

Finally, after about the sixth (I lost track!) chair attack I got a flight stewardess to come over and asked her to ask the man to stop.  Two younger guys sitting beside the old guy also said they were worried about the man’s kicking/spasms and the stewardess tried to suggest to him to stand up and walk it off around the aisles of the plane.  After gesturing and repeating the suggestion he finally stood up and walked down the aisle and I was able to get back to sleeping without thinking a little kid was sitting behind me (which has happened before!) bored and losing his mind but entertaining himself through exploring the percussive and acoustic properties of my chair back . . . why the old boy couldn’t have told himself to get up and move around I don’t know . . . oh well.

Another thing that happened during the flight that surprised me was the Chinese girl sitting beside me, who spent most of the flight sleeping, ended up at one point falling asleep with her head on my thigh.  She had begun trying to sleep on the backseat tray but invariably she would fall asleep enough that she’d slowly slide more and more off of it and then onto my leg.  She sounded like she was exhausted and fighting a cold and I really didn’t care if she used my leg as a pillow cause she was tiny and it was never for very long cause after ten minutes or so she’d wake up, realize her head was on my leg and pretend it wasn’t, lol, and then she’d reposition herself on the tray and fall asleep again to repeat the whole pattern.  I thought it was cute and remembered some of the high school girls I’d taught in Korea and wondered why she was flying to Toronto (later, I saw she is a university student on her customs form).

I amused myself in different ways during the flight to help time pass.  The first half of the flight I tried to sleep as much as possible so that my jet lag and transitioning to Canada time wouldn’t be too bad.  While on a trip to the bathroom I decided to shoot my first ‘me holding my camera mirror self-portrait’ . . .

Fourteen hours later the flight lands in Toronto–yahooo!  After clearing customs I stepped onto the motorized sidwalk and was shocked at how fast it moved (I’d been on it during past trips through the airport but it had never been set at so fast a speed!).

I picked up my luggage and then walked outside to meet my parents . . . my jet lag/exhaustion was a little strong but not too bad.  I feel bad for Julianne because her total travel and flight time will clock in at over 30 hours by the time she gets home in America. My 20 hours or so of travel time is nothing compared to that.

And that’s my story . . . it’s great to be back in Canada and this morning for breakfast I ate something I hadn’t had in a LONG TIME: really good cantaloupe!!!

Well, time to go get ready for my first full day back in Canada.  I’m going to go and try to get some rolls of film developed, and if they do it quick enough I’ll upload them to my flickr page later today.

Oh yeah, the other thing I want to do is walk around a grocery store . . . oh baby!!!

J

Julianne and I did venture out around 6pm to go to a tea house downtown with our student assistant and his girlfriend.  I didn’t know what to expect but hoped it would be nice–and it was awesome!

I brought along my Canon 1v film camera because I wanted to shoot the last 10 frames on the roll in it.  I should have brought my Canon 400D (aka Rebel Xti or Kiss Digital X) because the outside of the tea house had traditional red lanterns and wooden architecture!  I’ll post the film pics I took after I get them processed in Canada.  I really hope they turn out well because the tea house was a fantastic last outing to do with our friends.

Inside the main entrance there were traditional clay pots and cups made by artists who specialize in the methods.  We then headed up some really old looking wooden stairs that sagged a little when I stepped on them which made me a little apprehensive.  On the second floor we walked into a beautiful large open room with high ceilings.

In the center of the room was a four-wooden-pillar covered seating booth with old tree stump stools and wonderful looking cups and a tea set.  The lighting was calming and Julianne and I were impressed with the general atmosphere.  Wooden Buddha statues, clay traditional tea pots and cups, herbal teas, and other traditional tea house decor gave the place a very wonderful look that, yes, I keep emphasizing, lol.

We were led by a short Chinese woman (not wearing high heels!) in a traditional flower print dress down a hall with paper lanterns and traditional style wooden paneling on the walls to a small room with four chairs and a table.  We sat down and a few minutes later the woman came back with a traditional tea set.

In South Korea I was fortunate enough to have experienced traditional Buddhist tea ceremonies on more than one occassion so I was very curious to see how it would be the same and/or differ.  From what I remember it seems like the woman only did about half of the steps I recall witnessing by a Korean English teacher and friend who studied for years with a Japanese traditional tea ceremony master.   Also, the tea set she used seemed rather cheap although the tea itself (green tea) was fantastic in quality.

We also had plates of fruits (watermelon, canteloupe, etc) and it went very nicely with the green tea.  Julianne and I talked with our friends for nearly two hours, and had a great time discussing everything from cultural differences in Chinese family upbringings to education system differences to how Julianne and I met for the first time . . . it was a really nice evening.

I’m still kicking myself for not bringing my digital camera because the instant upload to the Net and blog about it convenience was absent–but that’s part of the pleasure and fun of film photography.

I’m just hoping that half of the 10 frames I shot are ‘upload worthy.’

Anyways, time to go do some packing.

Only one day left in China–woo!

J

Nighttime in China Street Scene – Boys watching TV, originally uploaded by Serenity in China.

I guess it must be girls night out . . . I think in bedding shops it’s usually women selling stuff . . . but I don’t think the gendered division of labour is as segregated as what I’ve seen while living in Korea.

J

Nighttime in China Street Scene – Bus Stop I, originally uploaded by Serenity in China.

I’m posting this picture because you can see the * by the bus number which means that this bus has air conditioning and you have to pay 2 yuan for the fare.

Now newbies to China, myself included, should realize that just because there’s a * doesn’t mean that the interior temperature and humidity levels will be cooler than the outside conditions–in fact, a fair amount of the time it might even be hotter and more humid inside!!!

Tonight, the bus we got on actually had good air conditioning . . . and this really helps Julianne and I not get irritated by the sardine-packed-conditions of the bus we were on. There were so many people that more couldn’t enter anymore by the front entrance of the bus so they’d just climb in the back exit doors . . . this is not unusual, either, for bus culture in China from what I’ve seen.

Anyways, the extreme bus culture of China is definitely not something we will miss after leaving!

J

Well, Julianne and I are slowly nearing the end of our time in China–we leave in a couple days.

It’s been extremely hot and humid outside now for several days. Sometimes there’s a semi-cooling breeze that keeps things tolerable in the shade, and sometimes there’s not and you begin to feel like you’re walking through an outdoor sauna . . . and it’s only going to get hotter as the summer progresses!

Anyways, tonight we went out for dinner with friends. One of them had a brother visiting from America, and they had just returned from Beijing and traveling around doing the tourist thing.

We went out for Korean food and had a good time talking about the brother’s first experiences in China. I also got a great picture of him trying kimchi for the first time–he pretty much did the classic contortion and smile to try and hide the shock at how spicy/sour/salty/unlike-anything-you’ve-ever-eaten-in-your-entire-life-before-face . . . it was FANTASTIC!

Later, as we were walking around to do some shopping I saw a classic THIS IS CHINA nighttime street scene.

Shirtless, cold beers, snacks, and sitting with friends by the street having a good time . . .

Awesome!

J

Julianne’s Brownies, originally uploaded by Serenity in China.

At Metro you can buy Betty Crocker brownie mix . . . yum.

While I think I’m a fairly decent cook when it comes to baking and making western style foods–Julianne is a thousand times better.

I’ve made brownies using the Betty Crocker mix, and thought they were good.

Then I tried Julianne’s brownies that she made with another package of the same Betty Crocker mix . . .

Julianne’s brownies are superior–no contest.

This morning Julianne baked up a ‘last batch of brownies in China’ for us . . .

Don’t they look good?!

J

Julianne’s Curry Chicken II, originally uploaded by Serenity in China.

Julianne and I get asked a lot by our students and other university teachers here in China if we like Chinese food and how often we eat it, etc.

We really like Chinese food and there are very few dishes we’ve come across that we didn’t like when eating at the restaurants in Changsha.

We also, of course, like to eat western foods from North America, and foods from other cultures like India, for example.

Since we haven’t heard of any Indian restaurants in Changsha we decided to make some curry style chicken when we came across a packet of seasonings in Metro (similar to COSTCO) a few weeks ago.

The only problem was that even with the ‘prepared’ seasonings the recipe on the package called for ingredients and items we don’t have in our apartment. We also knew we couldn’t find them in Metro.

Anyways, Julianne improvised with what we had in our kitchen and produced a really good tasting curry-esque chicken dish (I’m sure substituting ketchup for pureed tomato might have altered the dish a wee bit, lol).

As a side dish we had baked potatoes which are surprisingly cheap to buy here.

It is possible to cook western/foreign food dishes here in Changsha but it pays to bring spices you love from home on the plane. You can get quite a few at Metro and Carrefour, but others are impossible to find.

Next week I’ll be back in Canada and can’t wait to go into a grocery store and experience the extreme reverse-culture-shock of seeing so many choices . . . it really hits home how privileged one is to live in Canada after being overseas for several years.

Happy Canada Day!!!

J

WARNING: This post is one of the rare times I let myself rant about a living and working in China issue.

I did all of my usual overkill preparation because I know a trip to the bank in China is never without surprises and often involves situations that foreigners cannot conceive of as possible.

For those outside China considering living and working here I’ll share the list of things I bring with me to the banks here.

1. passport

2. Foreign Expert Permit

3. a copy of my contract

4. my home country bank account number and general info (transit#/location, street address)

5.  all past money transfer papers (so the bank officer can refer to it when she forgets how to do something/doesn’t know what to do something)

6. ***a native speaking Chinese friend (often CRITICAL to any kind of success with even simple banking tasks)

7. a statement of income signed and stamped by my university

8.  any and all other papers, things, rabbits’ feet, lucky charms, four-leaf clovers, etc

And even then don’t even dare to think that your efforts will be successful . . .

Let me explain.

This afternoon Julianne, myself, and our Chinese friend walked into the bank.  I immediately noticed a new security guard who was making his presence quite conspicuous as he strutted around with a big black ugly nightstick in his hand.  While our Chinese friend walked over to the banking officers, Security Guard Gump, as I have decided to name him, immediately joined the conversation in Mandarin between our friend and a bank officer.

Julianne and I stood back watching, and the security guard began answering and dominating the entire conversation . . . yeah, Mr. I-probably-never-went-to-high-school-and-certainly-don’t-work-for-the-bank-as-a-bank-officer-and-never-got-any-training-on-international-banking-policies-and-procedures decided that he was going to run the show . . . WTF?

And then things began to get even ‘better’ . . . the two bank officers, one of whom is the bank manager, then tell our Chinese friend that I cannot exchange X RMB value because it is over the 500.00 USD maximum per day for foreigners . . .

I ask my friend to translate (although both officers have some English ability) that I had already done several exchanges for amounts over the 500.00 USD exchange maximum because, as THEY HAD INSTRUCTED ME TO, I had submitted a signed and stamped statement of income from my employer.

The response to this was that that ‘didn’t matter’ and that because the amount I wanted to exchange from RMB into Canadian currency was much higher than usual (I had brought my airplane reimbursement money to exchange and send home) they now wanted a signed and stamped form from the local income tax office authorizing such a large amount of RMB to be exchanged into Canadian dollars . . . the kick in the ass being that these two bank ‘officers’ had previously stated that the statement of income form, if signed and stamped by my employer, would allow me to “exchange as much RMB per day/visit to the bank as I wanted” to do . . .

Lesson to take from this: Do not trust or believe anything you are told to be policy/rules/law/truth at a bank in China. (NOTE: Yes, I KNOW I am generalizing, but I think the caveat here has merit and stand by it.)

Then to add to the developing insanity the security guard tells our Chinese friend that there can be no international money transfers done after 3pm (the rule is 9am to 3pm)–yet the bank officers sitting 10 feet away had done TWO TRANSFERS for me in the past, both of which had taken place after 3pm . . .

I tried telling my friend to ignore the security guard and to actually speak to a bank clerk or officer.  He walked over to one of the clerks behind a window and, of course, Security Guard Gump followed a foot away.  Our friend asked the clerk a question–and Gump answered for him.

At this point I’m sure if a pulse and blood pressure monitor had been attached to my body it’d have been accelerating past what is considered normal and healthy . . . I tried to stay calm and not yell at Gump and tell him to go back to the door and watch for hot chicks and smoke cigarettes–you know, the normal duties that he actually might have qualifications and training for.

Our Chinese friend walks back over to Julianne and I, closely followed by Gump, and I ask my friend AGAIN to talk directly to the bank officers.  We walk over to the officers’ desks and Gump walks around to stand behind the two women officers radiating a ‘supervisory’ stance and body language.

I ask our friend to ask the bank officers why they are a) saying no to a currency exchange when I got the statement of income form stamped and signed for them? And  b) why they won’t do an international money transfer after 3pm when they’ve done them before for me?

Our friend translates their answers for me.  One of them claims they don’t have the statement of income form for me–to which Julianne responds in an exasperated voice that they always have gotten out their copy along with my other paper work every time I’ve visited in the past, so why is today different? No response is given other than staring at the desk and saying nothing.

The security guard then tries to start jimmer-jabbering away at our friend and I cut him off–and for once, he shuts up; this was probably due to the flames that were beginning to shoot out of my eyes at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

Then the suggestion of Julianne and I going to the downtown central branch location is made (translation: go away and leave us alone) and the phone is picked up by a third bank officer who enquires about whether or not we can do a large RMB to Canadian exchange and then an international transfer–no dice.

The two bank officers that I’ve dealt with repeat for the 10th time that I have to go to the local income tax office and get a signed and stamped form giving me permission to exchange my airfare reimbursement into Canadian currency and to do a money transfer to my account in Canada . . .

I look at Julianne and my friend and say it’s time to leave.   We head outside and discuss what we’re going to do.  I repeat my objections to Security Guard Gump’s intrusive and unwelcomed presence.  Our friend tries to explain that he’s simply being ‘warm-hearted’ and ‘wants to help us really bad.’  I look at him and say that that’s not the case from where I stand.

While we are talking Gump walks out of the bank and up to us to say something else.  I glare at him, say ‘no, no’ and wave my hands at him to go away.  He finally does after one last attempt at ‘helping’ us.  Argh.

Our friend then suggests we head to his bank, ICBC, and we head out of the area towards his bank.

During the walk I try to explain that for Julianne and I there are two basic situations where we will not make efforts to follow a foreign culture: illness/injury in a hospital, and at the bank where personal and confidential banking information and money are involved.  He understands what we’re saying and the cultural background behind it, but at the same time continues to insist on his presentation of the underlying motivation behind Gump’s behaviors . . . sometimes, even with a Chinese person who has lived in other countries and has high levels of English ability it is impossible to get across the ‘other’s’ point of view.  I do, however, credit him for respecting Julianne and I in regards to how difficult things can be in certain situations in China.

We arrive at our friend’s bank, and walk over to the VIP section. Our friend asks about international money transfers and learns that because the location of the bank is on a university campus they don’t do transactions like that, lol.  While waiting inside the walled off VIP area (though the door to it was open) an old man wanders over and pokes his head through to stare and listen in on our friend’s conversation . . . seriously, I really would love to know if Chinese cultural taboos don’t cover this kind of situation when it involves Chinese-person A and Chinese-person B–is it really acceptable for a stranger to walk over and stand in close proximity to a customer and bank officer discussing banking details?  I doubt it, but then again, when foreign and in China I suspect all too often the taboos don’t hold any weight with many people here when interacting with foreigners.

Julianne and I walk outside, laughing, and ready to give up for the day on what apparently is a mission of EPIC challenges and obstacles.  Our friend rejoins us and suggests that we try heading downtown to the central large branch location.  I ask him if he thinks we can get there with enough time left to do our tasks (assuming that it will take at MINIMUM 1-2 hours). He tells me he thinks we can do it.

I ask him what time the bank downtown closes but he isn’t sure.  He runs back inside and makes a phone call.  If we get there by 4:40pm (at the time it was 3:50pm) we’d be able to do what we need to get done.

We walk across the university campus and stand on the street trying to hail a taxi but can’t get one.  Then we decide to take the bus.

About 15 minutes later we get off the bus and we play Frogger crossing the street and it’s then that our friend tells us he’s unsure of where the bank is, and that he’ll ask someone.  Luckily, the bank was only a couple blocks away.

Walking inside Julianne and I immediately appreciate the well air-conditioned interior (the first bank location was pretty warm, and the second not bad but not good either) and a much nicer interior decor.

We walk over to a row of bank officer desks and our friend begins asking about how to exchange RMB into Canadian dollars, and how to do an international money transfer.  After about 2 minutes of back and forth question and answer between him and the bank officer things seem to begin to progress.

It’s at this point that I should mention that we had given up on using the Bank of China to exchange money currencees and to do an international transfer.  Our friend had agreed to use his own account and to exchange the money and send it for us.  Luckily for Julianne and I, we trust him and know that he won’t steal our money! Otherwise we would have had to fly back with large amounts of RMB and then try exchanging them with our home country banks–from what I know of trying to exchange Korean won (dollars) back in Canada you ALWAYS get a crappy exchange rate once you’re outside of Korea, and I assumed the same would apply if I had to exchange RMB back inside Canada!

Our friend gets things fairly sorted out and begins filling out forms.  It’s then that a SECOND bank officer gets involved (who knows why) and I’m asked to produce a “SWIFT” number for my bank in Canada.  I had heard of swift numbers from other expats in Korea but I’ve never had to use one for money transfers to Canada.

I try to explain that I’ve sent several money transfers from inside China to Canada and that this is the first time being told I ‘must’ have one . . . but the bank officer insists.

I pull out my ‘transit number’ and bank account number but am pretty sure the ‘transit number’ is just a branch location signifier (it is) and this goes nowhere fast . . . the bank officer, after a minute of fast talking in Mandarin to my friend, picks up her phone and a 3 minute dialogue takes place with her ‘boss’ and with a lot of facial contortions and worried sighs and groans from the bank officer . . .

All of which resulted in learning that, yep, I don’t need a swift number to send money to my Canadian account. (Though apparently it’s ‘better’ if you do have one–I’m gonna do some research about this later.)

During the course of filling out bank forms and asking and answering dozens of questions several Chinese people just walked up to the desk where my friend, Julianne, and I were doing our thing and began talking to the bank officer . . . I seriously dislike this rude and invasive behavior, especially when each person ALWAYS LOOKS DOWN AT MY PERSONAL BANKING INFORMATION!  The bank officers never ask them to wait their turn or go get a number from the machine that stands by the entrance . . . one guy who did this was cut off by our Chinese friend because he needed to ask something about the form he was filling in, and as the guy stood there waiting to  continue asking his own questions he looked down and began perusing the bank forms we were filling out–at which point I snapped my fingers at him and said no and waved him away to which he had some small good grace to look a little embarrassed and he stepped back from the desk.

After starting this ‘epic’ journey to the bank to exchange my airfare reimbursement and send money to my Canadian account we had . . .

. . . been to THREE banks . . .

. . . been trying for nearly THREE HOURS . . .

And finally, after much perservearance and help from our Chinese friend (THANK YOU!!!) we accomplished our tasks.

Thus endeth my rant and story.

85 hours to Canada!!!

J