Laowai of the land

Expats share the highs and lows of their lives in fast-changing China

In 2011, Hans Martin Galliker and his partner Amihan Zemp founded Neemic, a Beijing-based eco-fashion brand. Galliker gave up an accounting job at IBM in his homeland Switzerland earlier to come to China and pursue his dream of doing something related to sustainable agriculture.

In his early youth, the now 35-year-old lanky man used to be a farmer back home. When Galliker made a short trip to China in 2008, he was heartbroken to find how agriculture in the country had been affected by pollution and he wanted to use his knowledge of farming to help reverse the situation.

When he told his Swiss friends he wanted to live here, they asked him: "Are you crazy?"

"But now they know that I am not," he told China Daily after talking to students at Beijing's China Graduate Fashion Week in May. "'It isn't a waste of time and money', they say."

Swiss and other European magazines have started to write about Neemic, which is fetching reviews even in China for what Galliker calls the "power of aesthetics" of the garments the line sells, inspired by nature in their use of organic materials and dyes. But his ultimate goal is to promote sustainable agriculture, he says.

Galliker is among thousands of expatriates who live in fast-changing China, where they either work or study.

And while doing so, many among them also try to adjust to Chinese culture, injecting diverse ideas into society, falling in love with the local food, worrying their heads off about the pollution, choosing to leave or stay, but most importantly, contributing in their own ways to China's further modernization.

Many expatriate accounts in this newspaper suggest there are praises to be sung about their time in the host nation and some sulking to be done as well.

The community has more than 600,000 members, according to the last China census of 2011. Since 2000, the number of expatriates coming to China has grown at an average annual rate of 10 percent. Until a decade ago, the bulk of the foreigners posted in China were usually invited by government agencies to work here.

But in the past few years, many have flown into the country on their own initiative - perhaps to work for global or local companies, among other enterprises. A few have even qualified for permanent residency permits, or "green cards" (about 5,000 by the end of 2013).

As a result of all this, a Mandarin term has cropped up in the country's public discourse: Huapiao. When loosely translated, it means "drifters to China".

It follows in the path of Beipiao, an expression that's used by Beijing natives to describe migrants without a household registration in the city, or hukou.

Mandarin matters

A year after the launch of Neemic, Galliker found himself a neat courtyard house in Beijing's Dongsiqitiao Hutong, living his life mostly on previous savings. After a period of financial struggle, he's back on his feet again, he says. "Since this year, it's really better because now I make more money than I spend, ... which makes me sleep much better."

Galliker, who sees China as a land of opportunities, hopes to spend the next few years here working on his fashion brand while waiting to get involved in eco-agriculture. He plans to leave by 2020, possibly for Africa, where he says there's a big scope for organic farming given the wide availability of land.

He speaks little Chinese but gets by, thanks to his local friends.

But poor Mandarin skills don't work for all foreigners, as Beijing resident Raul Parra's experience seems to show.

Many of his friends left China after three years of living here because they didn't speak much Chinese, the Mexican man says. Parra, 35, has crossed that threshold though by being here for more than three and a half years. He works for State broadcaster China Radio International and also serves as a media adviser to the Center of Mexican Studies at Beijing Foreign Studies University.

"Chinese requires at least two days of study each week and it's really disheartening when you find the word that you spend the whole day learning can't be more helpful than zhege (this)," he says.

Parra complains that students are free to learn the famously tough language because that's their main occupation, but professionals aren't always able to give it their time. Some of his foreign friends are keen to chat with their Chinese domestic helpers but can't get beyond nihao (hello) and xiexie (thank you).

"Chinese people wouldn't easily invite you to their houses. If they invite you, you can say that you are really good friends," Parra says of what he perceives as the social dynamism.

He doesn't have all the answers yet. He wonders if Chinese are shy people or are they afraid their hospitality would be inadequate in a society where "loss of face" is a big deal.

But sociologists say the lack of effective communication can mar efforts to understand a country and its people anywhere.

The Office of International Cooperation and Exchange at Shanghai International Studies University analysis expatriate behavior often by using graphics representing different periods in a foreign resident's China life. The initial phase is usually a "honeymoon" because everything seems exciting and fresh, according Liang Xiaoxue, a 28-year-old staffer.

In the second stage, the expatriate may find it difficult to have meaningful conversations with Chinese and may feel constrained by the subsequent lack of awareness of cultural and other issues. This is described as the "disheartening" phase. The last part is about adapting to the new environment and how that's done depends on individuals.

Liang says there are some foreign teachers at the university who are willing to learn about the country and make friends with local people. They are likely to adapt more quickly to China than those who don't make an effort to mingle much or learn the language.

"We also have teachers who have been in China for more than a decade, but do not speak Chinese and only make friends with those coming from their own countries."

But looking into the Web will show misconceptions cut both ways.

For instance, an online video presents a list of stock questions Chinese tend to ask foreigners, including about their age, salary, relationship status and lifestyles. There are a few cliches too: Germans are rigorous, French are romantic, Jews are rich and Americans sexually open.

But younger Chinese, who have been exposed to foreign countries and cultures, are less likely to pigeonhole outsiders than the elderly population, some expatriates say. In general though, most say they like Chinese people and consider them to be humble and welcoming.

'Eat all of the things'

Briton Gary Li, 31, says he loves the long history of China, especially that of Beijing. He was born in Beijing but grew up in the United Kingdom, and relocated to the Chinese capital in 2013 with his consultancy firm. On coming here, he was surprised by how friendly the locals were and the great sense of community, he says.

"I was disappointed however by the bureaucracy involved in everyday things, such as a simple bank transfer or getting some 'chops' done for an official document," Li says.

China in many respects looks like a standard Western country, especially going by the large cities. But it doesn't take long before you realize the country is still developing. While the infrastructure is very much in place here, the service sector's "software" still has some way to go before it gets better, he adds.

In addition, pollution is a well-known big bother for expatriates.

Ralf Schuchmann, a Hungarian, says: "Pollution kills people. That's what I hate about Beijing."

He says he had left Beijing for Berlin in 2012 to do a master's program in fashion. Schuchmann had come to China in 2009 to work in the fashion industry. He returned to Beijing in 2013 to teach making patterns to students of Institute of Mode International, a Sino-French fashion school in Beijing, owing to the city's diversity.

"You can go to the Guomao area that is new and very 21st-century, and then you can go to Nanluoguxiang, where you can feel how people used to live earlier. In Dashanzi, it's like in the 1960s. You can time travel to 50 or more than 100 years ago, so that's why it's fascinating."

Other than being drawn to an ancient civilization, friendly people and delicious food, expatriates come to China looking for professional opportunities.

Brook Tate, a 21-year-old from the UK, arrived in China nine months ago. He now learns Chinese and paints portraits in Shanghai. His subject is "Oriental people".

"The environment of such a big city provides a lot of inspiration and with so many chances to make connections, your opportunities increase very quickly," Tate says.

Beijing and Shanghai are the two top places, where you can get to know many Chinese and foreigners, the expatriates interviewed in person and over e-mail say.

There are some in the expatriate community that not only make themselves pretty much at home in China but also get noticed by Chinese.

Austin Guidry, an English lecturer at Tianjin Foreign Studies University, is one such person. In 2014, he became very popular online due to his video series titled Eat All of the Things. In it, he was shown trying different local snacks. In one video, he even tried to drink a bitter Chinese medicine.

The series, made by the 26-year-old during Chinese New Year in 2014, was viewed more than 3 million times on Youku, China's answer to Youtube, and received more than 7,000 comments. His Sina Weibo micro blog handle now has more than 110,000 followers.

His videos are interesting to watch, especially for Chinese people who are keen to find out what foreigners think of Chinese snacks such as pickled chicken claws, stinky tofu (bean curd), Chinese sausages and other small eats that exist mainly in China or were born here.

"I called it Eat All of the Things because I thought that was a more interesting title than 'A fat white guy eats Chinese food,'" Guidry says.

Contact the writer at yangyangs@chinadaily.com.cn