Well, not quite. Actually, I’m not sure. I was hearing many Chinese street names and seeing a psychedelic collage of the probably 50 apartments I have viewed over the past several weeks: dark brown wood, Chinese landlords, views of skyscrapers hovering in the hazy sky. When heading out the door to yet another viewing this morning, I gave myself a pep talk: if nothing else, this is a good way to see another part of the city, learn about the neighborhoods, be around other human beings. The bright side: at this stage in the game, nothing is a waste of time. Every experience is a learning experience.

While at the supermarket with my young realtor friend Yeye today, I realized that I do have so much to learn. Why can’t we just skip the part where I am the ignorant foreigner blundering her way around Chinese culture and people and get to the good part: the Burcu – I mean Baoze – who can haggle with the grocer or who knows her way around a Chinese supermarket or who can understand when she has just made someone lose face, “guanxi.”  At least, I can be proud that I caught myself before asking why there are no dish towels to be found anywhere (Chinese dry their dishes in these dish-dryer-disintectant-machines that look like stoves from the outside). And these kind of enlightenings do go both ways. As yoghurt-type products are our main source of calcium these days, I was making my choices, when Yeye pointed at a Chinese character and said “acid milk.” The more products I chose, the more he repeated “acid milk.” The acid must have become too much for him, because at one point, he said that this is enough now and that I should maybe not buy so much acid milk. I replied by saying that in English, we do not call it milk – we call it yoghurt. His eyes became so big. A whole new concept.

So after two weekends of travelling and exploring, our third weekend was almost entirely dedicated to apartment hunting. Two highlights: we had Sunday brunch with a group of jet-set cosmopolitans. My connection to Jennifer, the organizer, is so complicated that I don’t even know anymore how I know her. Anyway, she is a “Chinese returnee” – left China in 1991 to study and work in the US, and returned 2 1/2 years ago to get “a piece of the action.” She and another very successful Chinese woman working at CNBC, told me that, even with their qualifications and the surplus of jobs, competition in China is tough. What? It’s not enough to speak absolutely perfect English and Chinese, have a Harvard Business degree, years of work experience for a major US firm, be pretty, smart and eloquent? It had me wondering what kind of jobs they were seeking. On the other (male) end of the table, Patrick was an innocent bystander in an exchange about investing in property, stocks, bonds, etc in China and where the best ROI is, that went completely over his head. OK, we are obviously Expat Freshmen.

The second highlight was the Shanghai International Film Festival. I was determined to view a Turkish film from one director I much respect. And because an hour of probing did not result in an answer to our question about the language of the subtitles, I went alone. Just after I heard the Chinese women at brunch saying they don’t like “dark” movies (they hated Perfume) and have gone for years watching only comodies, I was curious about the effect this very dark, almost black, psychodrama, would have on the 99,9% Chinese audience. My curiousity did eat away at me when a) even if they were disgusted, they did not show it, and b) I did not understand their “post-flick” chit chat.

And so another week came to a close. I don’t know how time flies here, it just does. It was just last weekend that our friends from Chicago, Brian and Jeanie, were visiting (and for those of you who were wondering, they had planned their trip to China before knowing that we were going to move to Shanghai, so the timing was a wonderful coincidence). If anyone is planning a trip over here, I will send you their itinerary. They are now probably heading back and have interesting things to share. If you have viewed our photos on this site, you will have seen the amazing images from our trip to “Venice of the East” canal town Zhouzhuang (45 min drive with Jing), which was 100% inspired by the B&J team. We are thankful to have adventurous friends like them!

We are just getting to know each other, Shanghai and I. I feel this could be the beginning of a great friendship. Like in Vienna, there are many lessons to learn, especially at the beginning. Unlike Vienna, they seem easier to learn, less degrading. This is perhaps why many in this city never do learn the language or assimilate to the culture. I feel inspired to do both, because the international scene here is so strong that there is never shortage of venues for retreat should it become too overwhelming. The international bookstores, cafes, supermarkets, schools, radio, TV, and even restaurant deliveries. There is a entire city within a city here designed and marketed purely for foreigners.

This bright “pearl” of a city, known in the late 20’s as the “Whore of the Orient,” has a long history of imperialism. The foreigners who settled down here during early part of the century, portioned the city into concessions which became completely independent, including governing bodies and fire brigades. We live in what was formerly known as the “French Concession,” an area that has maintained many of the historical momuments of the imperialist days (villas, beautifully manicured parks, etc) as well cultivated a truly colorful scene of international restaurants, boutiques, and museums, etc. I told Patrick that I could spend the two years alone simply walking up and down the streets of this district. Unlike many of the other major metropolitan cities I know and love, New York, London, Paris, the character of the neighborhoods differs not only from block to block, but really from one end of the street to the other. Just yesterday, I was walking on the major shopping boulevard Hua Huai Rd. very much resembling any from the West, and I turned on to a perpendicular road to find myself in completely different world…vendors preparing supper on the street, tiny little avante garde boutiques with bags of the day’s garbage to be picked up in front of the door.

Yes, the biggest change from the pureness of Vienna has to be the smells in this city. Due either to the book I am currently reading (upon recommendation from my Occi friends, Das Parfum by Patrick Süskind) or to the sensitive nose I inherited from my mother, I am constantly identifying smells. I remember the discussion I had with Laura one day about smells that remind us of “home,” and I wonder with which smells will I associate Shanghai: will it be the strong herbs frying in the woks, the lamb scewers grilling on the street corners, the exhaust from the many scooters/motorized bikes, the garbage that repeatedly ends up on the doorsteps, the humidity in the air that feels so tropical or a combination of these?!

It was already evening and surprisingly dark by the time we arrived in our service apartment in the central Xuhui district of the great metropolis Shanghai (or “Hu,” its local nickname). Our efficience in unpacking and stowing away our belongings in the rooms of our temporary lodging did nothing to help the cold and barren feeling of the place. The sounds outside were too loud, the bed too hard, the kitchen too empty (btw, a service apartment is an apartment serviced like a hotel. Guests stay short period of time – a few weeks up to a few months – so everything is to be provided including all kitchen utensils and appliances). There was nothing to do about the noise or the bed, but we did ask for the kitchenwear, an iron/ironing board, hair dryer, and water for our water cooler (standard here in every apartment as the water from the faucet is concentrated chlorine). These items came in daily installments for the next week until we had everything necessary to bridge the time till we move into a permanent residence (bear in mind, we have boiled down- no pun intended – our concept of “necessary” to 2 plates, 2 forks/knives/spoons, 2 bowls, cutting board/butcher knife, a pot and a wok).

On Day 2, the driver picked us up to take us to Taicang, an oversized industrial village 50km northeast of Shanghai, where Patrick will be spending his days making sure Schäffler retains a considerable profit in the production of bearings – large size and otherwise. We spent this day between the relatively new facility in Taicang (3000 employees) and the even newer R&D office in Anting (closer to Shanghai), as Patrick had some appointments with his supervisors/HR department and I with the HR director regarding a potential job (which turned out to be NON-potential just as a side note).

The car/driver situation is as follows: Patrick has to wait at least a month for all his paperwork to get cleared (translations of driver’s license, registration, etc) before he can apply for a Chinese driver’s license. Until that time and perhaps even after depending on the new expat policy the company is drawing up, we have to use a driver. Having witnessed 20 almost-accidents a day in this city, I don’t think it’s a bad idea. Patrick, however, is experiencing some communication frustration with his new found friend, Yao. The morning of that first outing to Taicang, he did a beautiful job of asking Yao to turn on the air conditioning using very clear, basic English. Yao did not understand. So Patrick did the next logical thing: used hand gestures. Unfortunately the flapping of his suit jacket and waving of his arm to get air did not indicate heat to Yao. The next thing we knew, we were taking a detour through the city only to end up at the front step of our hotel, at which point Patrick only said “no” and gestured for Yao to drive on which he promptly did. We, of course, acted like nothing happened in order to save face. “Guanxi,” as it is know in China, is of great cultural importance.

Despite these mishaps (some are of course expected, and we experienced unexpectedly few the first week), we managed to settle in to our new habitat fairly quickly. We have tried several new restaurants, met a few new people, and orient ourselves especially in our district. Patrick is in the process of adjusting to his new work environment and I to my home environment, at least till I get my bearings. Patrick and I go through the daily routine of asking whether this feels like home yet or still like vacation. We are yet “vacationers,” but Shanghai beware, we are here to stay.