Ok picture this.  You land in a city.  You don’t know anyone (uni-friend aside) and you decide you like it so much you might want to stay here for a few months.

That’s me, and Beijing.

Beijing’s buzz made me want to stay here – the difficulty was working out how to get started and settled, and not really speaking the language.

I initially stayed in a hostel – a friend advised this was the best way to meet other English speakers (which is true) – called the King’s Joy near Tiannanmen Sq.  It wasn’t so much hostel as hotel in which the rooms had been converted into dormitories – but OK nonetheless.  It was there I met an Isreali and two Italians (separately) who told me about Homestays in Beijing through a site called tourboarding, and “couch-surfing”.  The two are different but similar concepts.  A homestay in China is basically a transactional arrangement.  You get to stay with a middle class Chinese family, for free (with your own room usually) in return for teaching their children English for a couple of hours a week.  Not a bad gig.  Couch-surfing is like social networking for people who don’t want to pay for hotels/ hostels.  You set up a profile, advertise that you’re in a place, and people with profiles who live there can decide whether to let you stay on their couch/ spare room.  Pretty sweet if you’re staying somewhere for a short period of time.  More on this later.

The Chinese Cough Syndrome (see previous post) and a couple of annoyed dorm-buddies made me decide to move to a single room in another hostel – the Happy Dragon in Dongsi.  This definitely had more of a hostel feel, and where I began my search for somewhere to stay, a part time job for spending money, and all other life accoutrements to help me get on in the city.

But before I tell you about that, let me tell you about healthcare in China.  I was “advised” to go to hospital for my cough.  There was a local hospital nearby.   So off I trodded. 

Hello, I have a cough (broken Chinese).  It’s very bad, and I can’t stop coughing. 

My Chinese Medicine

OK.  Pay us some money to process the paperwork.  You can see a doctor in two hours.

45 minutes later, and increasingly frustrated.  Can I see an English speaking doctor? (refer to the Chinese in phrase book).  Went to see said doctor, not much English – advised to go to the pharmacy.

Went to pharmacy.  Pharmacy staff say go to another hospital.  Go back to hostel to ask their advice.  They say go back to hospital.

Went to other hospital.  Got directed to “international medical centre”.  Found English speaking doctor.  Filled out lots of forms.  Paid again for admin.  Told to go to room 5.

Someone had shit themselves and was waiting outside room 5, so it smelled badly, along with 5 other Chinese people with at least 3-4 family members each. Chaos.  Basically had to push an ill woman out the way to see the doctor. 

Saw the doctor.  2 courses of anti-biotics, and some traditional Chinese medicinal (TCM) drink for cough. Collect prescription.  Leave.  Drink takes like buffalo urine (for the record, I have not tried aforementioned liquid, although that is what I imagine it to be like).

(More on TCM in a later post).

And there ends the (perhaps not very interesting) bard of the cough.

Back to homestays.  After applying for a few on tourboarding.com I came across Jessica.  She had a young kid who wanted to learn English and was offering a pretty sweet room near Wudaoko (North Beijing where a lot of students and ex-pats live).  I had to send a picture, my CV and arrange a time to meet.

In the meantime, my search for a flat continued. 

I generally (but mistakenly) assume that the east of any city is where the artists and poor (money) creative types live, and therefore cool.  To some extent, this is true for Beijing, but the apartment I visited in east Beijing, whilst nice, was not in a cool area.

My knight in shining armour came in the form of an email from a German-Chinese girl who told me about an apartment near the centre of town – YongheGong (Llama temple).  That was Friday – I was supposed to see Jessica the next day.

Llama Temple - view from my window

I went.  I liked.  I accepted.  A room in a 3 bedroomed apartment with all mod cons (and air conditioning!!!).  All for the equivalent of £120 a month. 

“Sorry Jessica.  Can’t make it tomorrow.  I’ve found a nice apartment and I have accepted.”  It would have been interesting to have done the homestay experience – although I was advised by someone that it’s like being a 14 year old again, as you’re told when to be in for and you can’t exactly have friends back.

It never rains, it pours.  Within a week of moving into the apartment (I moved in the next day). The following happened.

I met my housemates (obviously).  Dion is a Finnish Australian party organizer.  Lived in Japan for 3 years, great friends.  Laura is a German singer who had studied Chinese in Beijing for 4 months and had decided to take some time out to find a band to sing with.

Job offers came in.  I now have a part time job teaching English privately to middle class Chinese school students for a company.  I have my own students who I am teaching privately also (on Skype) to practice for their exams.

I am also working with a Chinese company as a consultant to help “internationalise” their business for Western markets – started with some internal training on how to deal with Western businesses.  Will be travelling to their offices around China.  Exciting.

My bike

I applied for voice over work for various films and adverts (waiting to hear back on that).

Got a bike (see picture).  A Chinese bank account (this is both easier and harder than you expect –easier as you don’t need to pass credit checks, harder because explaining this in my (limited) Chinese is very difficult.  Thank you phrase book.)

Signed up for Chinese language lessons – 3 hours a day, 5 days a week.  Hopefully this should help with my pretty crap language skills.  Got a language partner – Lulu - who practices her English with me in return for me practicing my Chinese with her every Sunday.

A word on this.  And someone (perhaps me) should write a good, lengthy article about this. 

One of your largest assets if you’re white and a native English speaker is, well, exactly that.  The currency of the English language in China is very strong.  You can teach, teach privately, help translate.   So many Chinese families want their children to speak good English as they see it as the key to the gateway to a better life.  They want their kids to go to Oxbridge and Ivy League universities – so another selling point (to train them) if you have. And you are paid much more than Chinese natives with the same skills. 

White, because in China if you’re white you are a curiosity.  You’re taller, and (totally unfairly) thought of as better looking, more affluent and probably more successful.   Modelling and film work is offered.  You can get gigs to just “be around” when there is an important business meeting, or reception, to help make the event or business look more “international”.

The fact that I have business experience in the UK and the US is also a selling point.  Chinese businesses are successful, and the domestic market here is huge.  But growth means looking outwards, and there are tonnes of Chinese businesses who haven’t had experience of dealing with Western businesses.  Plenty of Chinese business executives who haven’t experienced dealing with non-Chinese business people.

In the West, this counts for very little. But for an ambitious economy like China’s, it counts for a lot. 

Back to the apartment.  Yong he Gong – the area where I live – is so centrally located it’s ridiculous.  It’s a short bike ride to San Li Tun – the upmarket expats area.  A stone’s throw from Nan Lou Gu Xiang (NLGX) – a popular and trendy area for natives, expats and tourists alike (and Bei Lou Gu Xiang – BLGX - the same).  Although the Australian Beattles tribute band in a bar on NLGX was a little bit weird for my liking.  It has one of Beijing’s more famous temples – Llama temple.  Although slightly annoying is the incense ash which blows from the temple into my bedroom.  There is a French restaurant (which serves vegetarian food – yeah I know!), a vegan restaurant, lots of hip boutique coffee and tea shops, some pretty cool bars and a caretaker for our block, who every time I ride past tries to get me to drink beer with him.  Someday soon I will, mister, someday soon.

A little story. I needed a haircut, desperately.  My housemate told me about his Japanese friend who does haircuts for fashion shows.  Great.  He speaks only Japanese and Chinese, so I needed Dion to translate my hair requirements.  I’m quite fussy about my hair, largely because it’s crap.  So I turned up to meet them.  He had forgotten the keys to his studio.  So we tried a local studio in Chouwai Soho (everywhere in Beijing is called “something” Soho).  They weren’t buying it.  So we went outside, where the suggestion was made that I have my haircut on the lawn outside the shopping mall.  See pictures below.  A small crowd of Chinese gathered to watch and commentate on the haircut, offering advice to my Japanese stylist.  All in all, a good experience.  

Exercise area in the apartment block...

CCTV headquarters, Beijing

My favourite person in China