Oct 7, 2013 |
You’re moving to China??!! They run over their people with tanks!!
That’s what the guy who weighed our bags at the airport said seven years ago. It made me question whether or not airlines had ever considered any form of “Things Not to Say” training for their employees. It’s funny (not “funny ha ha” or “funny strange” but “funny disturbing”) how easy it is to build a complete understanding of a nation based on the most shocking news that comes out of it.
My daughter recently turned ten. Know how we celebrated?
We rode roller coasters.
Real, American roller coasters strategically engineered by certifiable maniacs to flatten your internal organs against your spine, stretch the front of your face to the back of your head and cause you to scream like Little Miss Muffet on Fear Factor.
It was awesome.
I had groomed her for this day since she was nine months old when I would pick her up, fling her over my shoulders, flip her upside down and throw her in the air as high as I could (much to the dismay of her mother). My reasoning? Roller coaster training. I was ensuring that I would have someone to ride the rides with someday in the future.
My investment paid off.
The perfect day had finally come. She had grown to the exact minimum height limit (possibly earlier that morning) and more importantly . . . we were finally in America. She had only dreamed of such coasters as she was growing up in China where most of the rides we had access to were more reminiscent of a county fair from the 1950’s. In fact, before we left China, I learned that this might actually be her version of the complete American dream.
As we were packing our things I asked her how she was feeling about the big move.
“Eh . . . good and bad.”
I actually smiled from the inside out because I’ve come to realize the absolute essential nature of processing the paradox of transition. If it’s all good, you’re setting yourself up for a fall. If it’s all bad you’re a real pain to be around. I was thrilled with her answer, so I pushed for more.
“Yeah? What are you looking forward to?”
Without blinking, “Roller coasters.”
I gave myself an internal high five and tried to keep a straight face. “Yeah me too. What are you afraid of?”
“Mmm. Getting shot.”
Phuaw. It’s funny (not so much the “ha ha” kind) how easy it is to build an understanding of a nation based on the most shocking news that comes out of it.
I guess it goes both ways.
Sep 4, 2013 |
I learned about twerking today . . . or was it twinking? One of those.
I’ve been in China for seven years. That’s really not very long. It’s only one dog year. Wait. That’s backwards right? Either way. It’s not very long.
Now I have returned only to discover that this is exactly how long it takes for a nation to fall apart at the seams. That’s it. One dog year . . . or 49, I don’t know.
And for once politics has absolutely zilch to do with it. When I left for China (I can remember it like it was yesterday) the whole country was exactly polarized over every possible issue from human rights to school lunches and people were frenzied over what was happening in the Middle East with the fighting and the weapons of mass destruction and the never ending debate over whether or not we should be sending our boys and girls to fight. I also remember something about everyone bad mouthing the President.
It was actually a bit soothing to step off the plane and see that politics hadn’t changed a bit. Feels like home.
But what in the world did you people do to Hannah Montana?!!
When I left, Walt Disney was introducing her to the world as the quirky, average teeny bopper by day and uber famous pop star by night. The whole premise and plot of this super-mega hit show was that (and I quote wikipedia) “she conceals her identity from the public, other than her close friends and family.”
Did you catch that? “She conceals . . .”
Miley Cyrus ain’t concealin’ nothin’ anymore. In fact she has traded any semblance of concealing for this new twinking thing . . . or was it twerking? Whatever.
Point is . . . I left for a moment and you broke Hannah Montana.
And invented twerking.
Good, bad or deeply disturbing . . . culture never slows down.
And for those of you who can’t keep up, here are a couple of resources:
1. Twerking as it was explained to me via my younger, more twerk informed American colleagues via the New York Times article: Explaining Twerking to Your Parents.
2. Here’s the MTV interview where Hannah Montana explains that she was conspiring with Robin Thicke to, quote, “make history” at the Video Music Awards and also that she “didn’t even think about it.” Seven years ago we thought about it when we wanted to make history. I can’t leave you people alone.
Jan 14, 2013 |
I’m a do it yourself kind of guy. Call me crazy but I see absolutely no value in paying a trained professional my hard earned money to invade my home for up to an hour while he completes a simple task that I could clearly do myself in seven to ten hours for twice as much money.
However, labor is generally cheap in China so when our kitchen faucet started spraying water on the zippered part of my pants last week I called the fix it guy from the management office of our apartments . . . and I changed my pants. He arrived quickly. He looked at the faucet (which I had taken the liberty to disassemble for him). He laughed a little bit. He left.
Outwardly acting disappointed, my inner manly man simultaneously grunted for joy at the prospect of a DIY experience that might actually involve tools and more grunting.
Doing it yourself is a whole different beast in China though. There are simple considerations that, if left unconsidered, can cause considerable challenges. So I have prepared this step by step guide for my fellow expat menly men in an effort to minimize the stress of what could be a very simple project. Obviously, if you are a fellow Do-It-Yourselfer you don’t NEED to read this but you may want to suggest it to others who don’t understand things like we do.
STEP ONE: Put it off until later.
This is important. Do not let your ambition cloud your understanding of what you know to be true. This is going to take a while. That urgent, “I need to do this now” feeling that you are experiencing is simply the surge of extra testosterone that your body produces when you hear of a DIY project. It’s perfectly normal but you must fight it.
Symptoms are:
- Forgetfulness (non-capacity to remember what happened last time)
- Internal Bargaining (How hard can it be? How long could it take?)
- Delusions of Grandeur (It is not uncommon for men in this state to believe they can fly, fight crime wearing spandex or fix a leaky faucet)
Be strong. Even if you were in your home country this would take seven times as long as your hormone-disabled brain is allowing you to think at the moment. You are in China which automatically adds an extra multiple of seven. That’s 49 times as long. Think you can do it in an hour? See you in two days.
Here are some suggestions to get you through STEP ONE:
- Go to ESPN.com: Important – Even if you have television in China do not go to there! It’s probably ping pong or soccer. Find a sport that involves hitting, crashing or punching. DO NOT, under any circumstances, go to any site or channel that even remotely promotes the fixing, assembling, remodeling or demolition of ANYTHING. There are password protected safeguards that you can place on your computer to protect you from a vulnerable moment. Use them.
- Eat Something Spicy: Really spicy. The kind that you would get to write your name on the wall of some restaurants just for eating. Sharing it with a friend is even better especially if that friend cannot eat the spicy food. Even if your face turns purple and your tongue catches fire pretend you feel nothing and say, “What? You think that’s spicy?”
- Pretend to be Spiderman
The sense of urgency will soon subside. In two to three days your wife will point out that every dish in the house is now dirty and it may be time for you to begin the project. You should begin the project two to three days after that.
STEP TWO: Disassemble the Old Faucet
Tools needed: Any wrench you have, hammer (if you have one), Drill (which you probably don’t have), Fork or chopsticks, Old shoe, Duct tape.
No instruction necessary.
STEP THREE (optional): Learn the Chinese words for “Kitchen Faucet”
Note: If you forget this step it’s ok. You can use sign language and your taxi driver or the hardware store owner will teach you the correct words. Even if you know the correct words it is wise to use sign language for context since you will probably pronounce it incorrectly and say something like “The dragon has wet hair.” This will make no sense unless you are pretending to turn a faucet on and off while saying, “Pshhhht Pshhht”.
“Shui long tou” (shway long toe) – That’s how you say faucet in Chinese but however you said it in your head . . . it was wrong.
STEP FOUR: Go to the Hardware Store
This is actually a complex step due to the various styles of hardware store in China. Most larger cities are now equipped with three options for fixing your sink:
The Tiny Store: A one room, streetside shop owned and operated by one Chinese manly man, his wife and their two year old daughter. The shop will be cram packed from floor to ceiling, wall to wall with every conceivable hardware product . . . except kitchen faucets.
The Kitchen Sink Street: This is an entire city block of nothing but wholesale kitchen sink faucets and related hardware. This is your best option.
The DIY Megastore: Popping up around China are a number of DIY monster retail superstores. In our city it is B&Q which looks and smells like a Home Depot. I have heard other cities have actual Home Depot’s but they look and smell like Lowe’s. DO NOT GO HERE – the prices are generally outrageous and there is much less hunting and gathering required which defeats your manly man purposes.
Follow these directions exactly:
1. Go to the tiny store and say, “The dragon has wet hair.” The shop-owners wife will look at you like (or maybe because) you are stupid and say, “huh?” Lean forward and repeat louder, “THE DRAGON HAS WET HAIR!” She will call her husband from the back, not because he knows more about the shop but because she is concerned for her safety. When he arrives, tell him about the dragon but include miming a faucet and say, “Pshhht, Pshhhht.”
He will say, “OOHHHH, A kitchen faucet. Yeah, we don’t have any.”
Ask him where Kitchen Sink Street is. He will tell you. Practice saying it a couple of times with him. Apologize for being a foreigner.
2. Get in a taxi and tell him what the shop owner told you to say. He will look at you “like” you are stupid. Repeat it louder. Pause while he gives you a blank stare. Tell him, “The dragon has wet hair pshhht, pshhht” with sign language. He will say, “OOHHH” and drive you to the DIY Megastore.
3. Swallow your pride and forget about finding Kitchen Sink Street. Enter the DIY Megastore.
STEP FIVE: Purchase a Faucet
There will be more than 7000 faucets installed onto a shining faucet wall. Remind yourself that you came to buy the cheapest possible option and locate it on the wall. Point it out to the assistant and tell her you want to buy it. She will say, “No you don’t. You want to buy this one. It’s more expensive.” Politely decline and look at all of the faucets again.
Repeat this process several times and then buy a more expensive one.
I personally chose the single handle option with the retractable head but not because she showed it to me – and out of the single handle retractable’s I chose the cheapest one.
So there.
STEP SIX: Return Home and Begin Installation
Sidenote: There is no need to clear the dirty dishes from the sink at this point. You can work around those. There is also no need to read the directions which is good since they are probably not included in the box and if they were they would be in Chinese.
Installation is self-explanatory but follow these simple steps if you have trouble:
- Screw stuff together: Most hoses, handles, washers, bolts and rubber things only fit in one spot so you can’t possibly go wrong.
- Poke stuff through the hole in your sink: Rule of thumb – If it is shiny, it probably goes on top of the sink. If it is ugly, stuff it through the hole.
- Realize there is a hose missing: You can do this by visualizing what will happen if you turn the water on. If you can foresee yourself getting soaked there may be a problem.
- Say to yourself, “That’s strange, I wonder why it’s not included.”
STEP SEVEN: Return to the DIY Megastore
Follow these directions exactly:
1. Explain to the front desk that the hose is missing. If you don’t have the vocabulary for this you may pull the pieces out of the box and assemble the entire faucet in front of them. Then it will be obvious that a hose is missing when you say, “Pshhht, pshhht” and pretend to spray water all over them. They will call in a specialist from the faucet section. She will tell you to go to aisle 18 (plumbing) to buy the extra hose and you will question why it is not included. This is pointless.
2. Go to aisle 18 and ask for help. The plumbing specialist will tell you they do not carry that hose. You can tell her that you purchased the faucet at their store. She will say, “That’s strange, I wonder why it’s not included.” Then she will say they don’t carry it again.
3. Return to the section where you originally found your faucet and explain the situation (using words or sign language as needed/able). Show them the faucet you purchased and find another box with an identical faucet. Open the box and locate the hose that you need so you can show them. They will say, “OOHHH, just take that one.”
Note: At this point it will become clear why the hose was missing from your original box.
4. Return to the front desk where they will try to charge you for the missing hose. Explain that it should have been in the box and they will say, “OOHHH, that’s strange, I wonder why it wasn’t included.”
5. Smile. Nod. Say, “Yeah . . . strange.”
6. Return home.
STEP EIGHT: Learn some Chinese Cursewords
This will be important in Step Nine.
STEP NINE: Install the Faucet
Tools needed: Same as Step Two plus a hacksaw, a file, a blow torch and/or a small amount of C4 explosive
Follow these directions exactly:
- Screw stuff together
- Try to poke it through the hole in the sink
- Realize the hole in the sink was made for a smaller faucet
- Make the hole bigger (see tools needed)
- Try again
- Repeat steps 4 and 5 as many times as needed
- Attach all hoses to water supply
- Make it tight
- Turn the faucet on
- Shake it up and down
- Hit it a few times
- Curse in Chinese
- Realize you didn’t turn the water on under the sink
- Do that
- Turn the faucet on again
- Grunt with rejoicing when the water comes out
- Curse in Chinese when you see that it leaks
STEP TEN: Call the Fix-It-Guy
And that’s it.
Let me know if this is helpful and I’ll think about writing a “How To in China” book.
Next up: How to Break Into Your Own Apartment in China.
Jan 7, 2013 |
I am a fully confessed language faker. I’ve owned it. Embraced it. Even written about it in front of the whole internet and everybody.
Rarely does a day go by that I don’t find myself in a Chinese taxi or convenience store nodding like I understood what I just heard or taking a 50-50 stab in the dark that my answer might be right. No secrets here. I’m a language faker.
But this story isn’t about me . . . I have this friend . . .
My friend, like all of us who routinely bumble the Chinese language, went through the phase of learning that I refer to as the “Confident Moron Phase.” It comes very early on in the learning process and is marked by a blatant overestimation of actual ability partnered with an unfounded willingness to keep trying despite public perception or personal embarrassment. It’s two phases before the “Broken Quitter Phase” and ironically people who can remain Confident Moron’s for extended periods ultimately become the most fluent.
The rest of us secretly despise them.
My friend . . . we’ll call him Moonbeam just for fun . . . was a teacher. Like many young, handsome teachers he naturally caught the eye of several of his Chinese students of the female persuasion. In actuality, handsomeness is often only a minor variable since frankly . . . we all look alike, and we all look like movie stars. For example, I personally have been told I look a lot like George Cluney by some of my most perceptive and intelligent Chinese friends. The same friends, however, tempered my swollen ego by also telling me I look a lot like Mr. Bean.
Moonbeam (who bears an uncanny resemblance to Brad Pitt . . . and the Grinch who stole Christmas) was invited to join one of his young female students and her parents for dinner at their home. Feeling confident that her intentions were simply in the interest of fostering an authentic cultural exchange and excited to try out his newly learned Chinese, he accepted her generous offer.
It was at that dinner that he made the best language faker mistake I have heard of to date.
She prepared a traditional Chinese favorite, best translated into English as “spare ribs”. Prepared just right they are small pieces braised pork that are fall off the bone tender and downright delicious. Prepared wrong they can still be the most palatable dish of an awkward cultural exchange dinner, outweighing pancreas, frog ovaries or any kind of intestines by a ton.
It’s worth knowing how to order so here is your Chinese lesson for the day . . .
Spare Ribs = “Paigu”
If, you’re not accustomed to Chinese phonetics (pinyin) try pronouncing it “pie goo”, as in the best part of an apple pie. That should get you close enough as long as you’re sitting in a restaurant that specializes in “pie goo” (the spare ribs not the pie), however I should warn you that used out of context and in the wrong tone the sounds “pie goo” may also sound something like “expose your sister-in-law”. So . . . you know . . . be careful. Especially if you’re traveling with your sister-in-law.
Moonbeam had recently learned to say “paigu” and like any rookie language faker with an arsenal of new vocab words he was eager to test it out. In an effort to raise the stakes he learned the best way to say “delicious” as well. Everyone knows how to say “hao chi” (tastes good). That’s what they teach you as soon as you land in China. He needed a better way. More expressive. Less cliche. An impressive word that captures more of the senses and more importantly a word that most newby foreigners wouldn’t use. He found it.
“Hao Xiang”
Broadly translated it means something like “fragrant and delectable, not only delicious but a treat to partake of” (try pronouncing it “how shong” but again understand that you may actually be saying “nice elephant”)
As they ate, Moonbeam knew his moment had come. Turning to his student’s father he complimented his daughter’s dinner.
“Your daughter’s spare ribs are fragrant and delectable.”
Let’s pause right there for a moment to explore the dynamics of the awkward cultural exchange. A sweet, young student anxious to show off her relationship with the handsome foreign teacher to her family. She is both excited yet nervous that her traditional Chinese parents will behave embarrassingly in front of her teacher or that her teacher will do the same in front of her parents. Two parents raised during the Cultural Revolution at which time America was enemy number one have now raised a daughter who has invited her Imperialist teacher into their home. An enthusiastic young teacher trying to make small talk with a very limited number of words.
This one monumental sentence could serve as such a bridge across the cultural gap. Complimentary, encouraging, disarming and potentially even charming. It was absolutely the best thing he could say.
Which is why he was so confused by the reaction of his student and her father. His eyes were instantly as wide as the dishes they were eating from and her face went pale. You see in a hero’s effort to break the barriers, ease the tension and instill good faith between the Communists and Imperialists, my friend missed a single syllable.
“Your daughter’s ‘pigu’ is hao xiang”
He said “pigu” instead of “paigu”. If you’re having trouble try pronouncing it “pee goo” and know that no matter how horrible your accent is it is almost guaranteed that nearly every Chinese listener will hear the same word . . . and laugh . . . unless that listener is the father of the young female student who has invited you into their home.
“Pie goo” means “spare ribs”. “Pee goo” means “bottom.” Not the “opposite of top” kind of bottom. The “body part you sit on” kind of bottom. My friend looked squarely into the eyes of a suspicious Chinese father and with far greater confidence than the situation merited said,
“Your daughter’s hindquarters are fragrant and delectable.”
I love that story because it reminds me to keep making mistakes.
And just in case you’re wondering if my “friend” is actually me, here is the dead giveaway that he is, in fact, not. Today, more than 15 years later, Moonbeam speaks more fluently in Chinese than any foreigner I have ever met.
I secretly despise him . . . and respect him greatly.
For more on the Adventures of a Language Faker . . . go here
Sep 26, 2012 |
Let’s play “Guess What They’re Selling.”
This was an advertisement near our home: “More Happiness, More Drunk.”
What’s the product?
Easy right?
Gotta’ be beer . . . maybe champagne . . . wait, this is China . . . could be Bai jiu (Chinese white lightning strategically distilled to taste like kerosene and render unconsciousness).
Nope. You’re all wrong. It’s for wedding pictures.
Duh.
It does bring up an interesting conversation though — Culture and alcohol.
Nothing has helped me understand the significance of cultural differences as much as alcohol. Wait. That didn’t come out right.
Perspectives on drinking speak volumes about culture.
Drinking in the East
In China and other Asian nations drinking is a business event. In fact it is often expected, before any real business is even discussed, that parties interested in working together will drink . . . and then drink some more. It’s no place for lightweights because the entire end goal is to drink until somebody (or everybody) drops. The whole thing begins with a toast and one word which is often mistranslated as “Cheers.” “Ganbei” carries the same basic intent (“let’s drink”) but literally means “empty your glass sissy boy.” So they do. And again. And again. And the natural progression moves from quiet and respectable to loud and laughing and finally to near silence and grown men holding other grown men while they vomit.
Here’s the key. It is the beginning of a relationship. It’s a relationship where, ultimately money will be changing hands and reputation will be laid on the line. It’s a relationship which can only be built on one thing.
Trust.
Drunk people say stupid things. They drop their inhibitions and they act like bumbling morons. Frankly speaking, if your afraid to get drunk in front of your new business partner then you must be hiding something.
The Chinese Businessman says, “If you won’t drink . . . I can’t trust you.”
Drinking in the West
Drinkers in the West are a specialized breed. “Drink til’ you drop” is the longstanding battle cry for every stereotype in a frat house or on Spring Break. These are not the individuals in our societies that are famous for qualities like responsibility and trustworthiness. These are people who miss entire semesters of Political Science with a hangover and show up late to Speech with lewd messages written across their foreheads in permanent marker. And honestly, these are our most respectable drunks. At least they are young and stupid but once they get out of college they have no excuse.
Now move that into a business dinner. Drink with your meal? Your choice. A toast to a good business deal? Sure. Hoisting your potential business partner onto your shoulders and singing “Come on Irene.”
Not cool.
The Western Businessman says, “If you do drink . . . I can’t trust you.”
You can see the dilemma. When East meets West trust can be an issue.
Unfortunately it’s not because either side can’t be trusted. It’s simply because when they look at the exact same thing they see something completely different.
That’s the heart of miscommunication.
It works for married people too.
Sep 24, 2012 |
As a follow up to my last post . . . Being Married to the Expat Cake Lady –or- Finding Your Thang: For Expat Wives . . .
Here are 8 questions to help you find your THANG.
1. Are you an inny or an outy?
Too personal? Sorry – this has nothing to do with your belly button. Simply put, what is your personality? Here’s another way to look at it —
How much do people annoy you?
Nothing is more significant to finding your sweet spot in the expat world than your extrovertedness versus your introvertedness. Without giving proper respect to how much you enjoy/need other people around you you’re likely to waste a lot of time testing out thangs that frankly, ain’t your thang.
Introverts may feel pressured to join every tea party, picnic or play group that pops up in the expat community. “I have to go or they’ll think I’m a snob.” Extroverts may feel self-conscious because not everyone wants to join their tea party, picnic or play group. “They must hate me, what did I do?”
In a small community it’s easy to find yourself constantly over-evaluating how you might be perceived. The result is inny’s who go out and outy’s who stay in.
If you’re an introvert cut yourself some slack. You’re thang is not going to be hosting the expat talent show or teaching opera on the city square. If you’re an extrovert cut yourself some slack too. You may love blogging and scrapbooking but your thang is going to involve people . . . or you will go crazy . . . and die . . . alone.
- Go here to take the Big 5 Personality Test (don’t worry if you didn’t study). These five characteristics will tell you a lot about how to thrive cross culturally.
- For more fun personality stuff (Myers Briggs) go here.
2. What are you going to regret later if you don’t do it now?
Expats can get so busy managing life that they forget how unique this adventure is. You’re living in a foreign country. Wait, scratch that – you’re living in a country . . . as a foreigner. That can add a whole new depth to your pool of potential thangs. If you’re spending three years in China, guess what . . . now’s the time to learn Chinese. Italy? Time to perfect your pasta. Brazil? You could be learning to cook meat like it ain’t NOBODY’S business.
Your thang may or may not be directly related to your host country’s culture but don’t rule it out until you’ve thought it through. You may even be able to find some creative way to mix it up. Are you a painter? How can you capture the heart of your life as a foreigner on canvas? It doesn’t have to be the only thing you paint but how cool will it be to have that one painting in 20 years when you’re looking back?
Don’t miss the opportunity now that won’t be there later.
3. What does reality restrict?
Your thang at home may not be feasible where you live now. Sacrifice comes with the expat package (although it’s not listed on the brochure) and sometimes that can mean taking a break from the things that you most connect with.
My wife is a scrap-booker. In America it was her creative outlet and our dining room table was swallowed by 6 tons of polka dotted paper, rubber stamps and special scissors that cut swirly doodles. However, in America there were special scrap-booking stores . . . no . . . warehouses with infinite creative options and never ending swirly doodling paraphernalia. Not so much in China. Consequently her thang changed but that was a tough conclusion to come to.
A reality check on the front end may save you some unnecessary stress later.
4. Can your thang be translated?
Maybe you can’t do exactly what you love most. So flex a little bit but don’t give up altogether just yet. You may be able to translate it into your new culture.
Here’s how it works — Answer these questions:
- What was your thang at home?
- Why? — What are all of the pieces that make you love it?
- It’s an outlet for her exceptionally creative brain.
- She can do it alone or with close friends (introvert)
- She get’s to make beautiful things.
- She can make things for other people and they love it which makes her happy.
- What isavailable in your host culture that would fulfill what you love about your old thang?
Ok, it wasn’t even close to that easy but once she found it, it made sense and in her case she may even like making cakes more than she liked scrap-booking. If you can make the switch to filling what you love instead of replacing what you do it can help.
5. What energizes you?
Having a thang is more than just being good at something. You may be good at a lot of things. You may even love doing them but how do you feel when it’s all over?
Recently I did some one on one counseling with a number of new comers to China. I bounced from one meeting to another each one lasting at least an hour and some of them up to four. It was non-stop, on the go for three long days on into three late nights. I crashed hard at my hotel around midnight when I had finished my last meeting and then woke up early for a full day of training the next day.
After a six hour seminar my friend helped me process. “Jerry, how do you feel right now?”
My answer was, “I feel alive.” The one on one stuff was great but it slowly drained me. I genuinely love spending time with China newbies. Their stories are incredible and they may actually be some of my favorite people to talk to in the world. But when I’m done I’m zapped. Nothing left to give. However, even when I’m tapped out, if I can get in front of a group of people and do training . . . I wake up. I’m full of energy and when it’s all over I feel like I could run a marathon.
I couldn’t . . . but I feel like I could.
Training is my thang. One on one is thoroughly enjoyable and on a good day I’m pretty good at it. I love it but it doesn’t energize me. Training does.
What makes you feel alive? What energizes you?
6. What is your B?
If you’re moving from A to B what is your B? And if you’re trying to get to B then why are you headed for C? or Q? or Albuquerque?
Lots of accompanying spouses give up a career to move abroad with their husband or wife. As a trade off they feel pressure to find a job in their new country. Consequently they take anything they can get and often that pool is pretty shallow for foreigners. There are thousands of English Teachers out there who hate teaching English but feel like they need to be working.
You might be missing out on something good because you can’t change your paradigm. You could be using your skills, your education and your passions on something you love and you’re good at. Something that energizes you. You may or may not get paid for it but do you really need to?
If you do then by all means . . . get a job.
If having a job is your B . . . then get a job.
If teaching English is your B . . . then absolutely yes, teach English and love it.
But if you don’t like it and you can make it without the money, wouldn’t you rather be doing your thang?
7. Who Completes You?
Simply put . . . Surround yourself with people who make you better. Then your thang will be better too.
My wife is an introvert. You’d think she’d hang out with introverts. But introverts don’t complete her. Extroverts do.
Extroverts steal the show and protect her from being the center of attention. They also love her because she never competes to steal the show. She completes them too. Extroverts say, “WAAAHHH!! LOOK AT THAT CAKE!! They are her best advertising, her best encouragement and have always been her best friends.
8. How Can Your Thang Help People?
Honestly, if your thang isn’t helping someone else in some way then there is a big piece missing. Especially in an expat context doing something that only serves your own needs will isolate you from the rest of the expats and your host country. Self serving extroverts make people mad. Self serving introverts turn into hermits and get tagged as uppity snoot wads.
On the other hand, extroverts who think about other people become a bright light in a group of people who all struggle with the same basic issues. They’re the ones who find out where to buy bacon or get a great foot rub and pass it on to the rest of the crowd. Everyone loves them and gives them the kind of mass attention that energizes them.
As for introverts . . . they get a chance to quietly let the world know (one at a time) that they’re inny’s. Not weird. Not stuck up. Just not overly excited about large groups of people. They’re the ones who make unbelievable cakes and smile on the inside when people love it.
I hope you find your thang.
You’re moving to China??!! They run over their people with tanks!!
