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Sometimes I feel that being a foreigner in China is akin to being forced to wear a sandwich—board in Chinese saying “hey， look at me！” on the front and “Take as many embarrassing pictures as you want！” on the back. Yes， the same type of sign that Charles Dickens described as being “a piece of human flesh between two slices of paste board.”
This is no exaggeration， especially during a recent business trip where my cohorts and I went to Guangdong Province at the southern reaches of the Chinese mainland near Hong Kong. Being journalists， we were purported to go down there， meet the locals， take notes and eat all the food available. While that was what we did， we were not expecting to be inundated by the local press’ appetite for our “Dickens’sandwiches.”
My colleagues were an eclectic bunch from Ecuador， Germany， Japan， Russia， Switzerland and the United States. We soon realized that blonde hair and blue eyes were highly desirable traits for getting airtime on local television and having our pictures taken with beaming businessmen.
We had gone from being flies on the wall—where some of us felt best—to being flies in the ointment. What angle were they trying to get？ What was so charming about my broken Chinese？
Ever since 1972， when U.S. President Richard Nixon sauntered through China， the two countries have set a course for increasingly strong relations. “This was the week that changed the world，” Nixon said at the banquet on his last night in China. “But what we have said in [the Shanghai] Communiqué is not nearly as important as what we will do in the years ahead to build a bridge across 16，000 miles and 22 years of hostilities which have divided us in the past.”
Following Deng Xiaoping’s 1978 openingup policy， under which the Chinese economy began to welcome international companies and investment， more and more foreigners have seized the opportunity to explore a country that had been very much shut out from the Western world.
Among them was former vice president of the Chinese e-commerce giant Alibaba， Porter Erisman， who remarked upon arriving in China，“If I just went along with things， I was welcomed wherever I went.”
This is a sentiment that I have felt， too， since my arrival in 2014， and one that I reminded myself of as I had microphones and cameras jammed in my face. I took myself out of my comfort zone and put forth my opinions about the beautiful local scenery， the economic development and the deli- cious cuisine. No one wanted my autograph； they just wanted to see my sweaty complexion in the hot southern winter. Erisman arrived in China in 1995， and had a front-row seat to the spectacle of the economic boom at the time. In his documentary Crocodile in the Yangtze， he describes how “meeting people from all walks of life， I discovered an incredibly optimistic country， but China in 1995 was a country that also seemed to lack confidence. People seemed ashamed that， despite its long history， China’s development still lagged behind the West. Still， people jumped at every chance to talk to foreigners and learn about the West. I could sense they dreamed of traveling abroad to see the outside world with their own eyes.”
Jump forward 20 years， and China no longer lacks confidence. I noticed that earnest locals were seeking foreigners’ opinions like those of my colleagues’ in order to compare， contrast and analyze their own accomplishments.
Guangdong， which is also privy to the maritime Silk Road that historically linked China to the outside world， is currently a hub for innovative startups and businesses tailored for domestic and foreign consumption. After interviewing a local CEO， he grabbed me by the hand and shoved his ornate product into my hands for the cameras to soak up. Such is today’s version of what Erisman was talking about—the dream to travel abroad—but as a brand， rather than just in person.
On the coattails of Chinese President Xi Jinping’s visit to the United States earlier this year， it is clear that the trend in history is heading toward—no， demanding—increased international cooperation to face today’s challenges. So go ahead， shake my hand and take my picture. Just give me a copy for my memory， too.
This is no exaggeration， especially during a recent business trip where my cohorts and I went to Guangdong Province at the southern reaches of the Chinese mainland near Hong Kong. Being journalists， we were purported to go down there， meet the locals， take notes and eat all the food available. While that was what we did， we were not expecting to be inundated by the local press’ appetite for our “Dickens’sandwiches.”
My colleagues were an eclectic bunch from Ecuador， Germany， Japan， Russia， Switzerland and the United States. We soon realized that blonde hair and blue eyes were highly desirable traits for getting airtime on local television and having our pictures taken with beaming businessmen.
We had gone from being flies on the wall—where some of us felt best—to being flies in the ointment. What angle were they trying to get？ What was so charming about my broken Chinese？
Ever since 1972， when U.S. President Richard Nixon sauntered through China， the two countries have set a course for increasingly strong relations. “This was the week that changed the world，” Nixon said at the banquet on his last night in China. “But what we have said in [the Shanghai] Communiqué is not nearly as important as what we will do in the years ahead to build a bridge across 16，000 miles and 22 years of hostilities which have divided us in the past.”
Following Deng Xiaoping’s 1978 openingup policy， under which the Chinese economy began to welcome international companies and investment， more and more foreigners have seized the opportunity to explore a country that had been very much shut out from the Western world.
Among them was former vice president of the Chinese e-commerce giant Alibaba， Porter Erisman， who remarked upon arriving in China，“If I just went along with things， I was welcomed wherever I went.”
This is a sentiment that I have felt， too， since my arrival in 2014， and one that I reminded myself of as I had microphones and cameras jammed in my face. I took myself out of my comfort zone and put forth my opinions about the beautiful local scenery， the economic development and the deli- cious cuisine. No one wanted my autograph； they just wanted to see my sweaty complexion in the hot southern winter. Erisman arrived in China in 1995， and had a front-row seat to the spectacle of the economic boom at the time. In his documentary Crocodile in the Yangtze， he describes how “meeting people from all walks of life， I discovered an incredibly optimistic country， but China in 1995 was a country that also seemed to lack confidence. People seemed ashamed that， despite its long history， China’s development still lagged behind the West. Still， people jumped at every chance to talk to foreigners and learn about the West. I could sense they dreamed of traveling abroad to see the outside world with their own eyes.”
Jump forward 20 years， and China no longer lacks confidence. I noticed that earnest locals were seeking foreigners’ opinions like those of my colleagues’ in order to compare， contrast and analyze their own accomplishments.
Guangdong， which is also privy to the maritime Silk Road that historically linked China to the outside world， is currently a hub for innovative startups and businesses tailored for domestic and foreign consumption. After interviewing a local CEO， he grabbed me by the hand and shoved his ornate product into my hands for the cameras to soak up. Such is today’s version of what Erisman was talking about—the dream to travel abroad—but as a brand， rather than just in person.
On the coattails of Chinese President Xi Jinping’s visit to the United States earlier this year， it is clear that the trend in history is heading toward—no， demanding—increased international cooperation to face today’s challenges. So go ahead， shake my hand and take my picture. Just give me a copy for my memory， too.