Feeling a desperate need for acceptance

No matter how many years an expat lives in China, he will always be a foreigner. And though many locals insist we foreign guests get special treatment, it's often the case that we would prefer to be treated a little bit more like the locals. It's not easy for an expat to be part of the local community, I have often found.

During a bus ride in breezy Dalian, my vehicle came to a shuddering halt. The driver immediately jumped from his seat and shouted to the passengers who, before I knew what was happening, had got out and given the bus a hearty push start. The only ones left on board were an old man of about 70 and me, the useless foreigner.

In sunny Chengdu, I was part of a small group of tourists attending a performance of Sichuan Opera. The audience was mostly a conservative bunch in Mao suits whose gray heads turned as one to look at me as I was plied with cups of green tea and sweets - special treatment that once more singled me out as different.

My ultimate dream of China integration would be to stop a crime in progress. I can see the headlines now "Foreign hero cracks crime ring!" Unfortunately, this is far from becoming a reality. Walking through my apartment complex a few weeks ago, talking on my mobile phone as the disconnected citizen is wont to do, I heard a security guard shouting "Zhua zhu ta!", Chinese for "Grab 'im!" and a lithe man darted past me sporting a wicked grin. A brave onlooker at the gate tried to stop the thief but he escaped.

I sometimes replay the scene in my mind, an alternative version of events where I react an awful lot quicker. I dash after the callous crook and, to gasps from my neighbors, execute a perfect rugby tackle. Later a policeman shakes my hand as they lead the thief away, muttering the Chinese equivalent of, "I would have gotten away with it, if it hadn't been for that meddling laowai!"

More recently, I experienced my second ignominious failure to curb crime in the Chinese capital. Using an ATM in my bank's lobby I noticed a man skulking in the corner and furtively counting 100-yuan notes. An open wallet lay in the rubbish bin in front of him. Surely he had just stolen the wallet!

With nervous excitement I rushed into the main hall of the bank and reported what I had seen to a security guard. The guard went to check up on the suspicious character but quickly reported back to me that the man had merely been counting his cash.

Unconvinced, I returned to the lobby to retrieve the "stolen" wallet. It was then I realized that there was no bin. The man had merely placed his own wallet on a low metal sill that looked like a bin and my imagination had done the rest.

I suppose I shall have to leave the detective work up to the police from now on. The best I can hope for in working towards my model-citizen status is the opportunity to give up my seat up to an elderly person on the subway. That may not make headlines but Granny Wang can give her old bones a rest and I'll feel happy about creating a good impression of foreign visitors.