Letter: This Other Life

Dear Friends,

There was a cold snap in the weather last weekend, and I suddenly went from wearing one layer of clothing to wearing three. It passed as quickly as it came, but those few days of biting cold brought back memories of my first chilly February weeks in China. As I walked by a shop, I vividly remembered once buying some biscuits there: I misheard the price, got very confused, and walked out with my confidence so badly shaken that I felt depressed for the rest of the evening. Settling into a new environment can be a very fragile time. I guess this is due to the effect of the earth's gravitational field on hormone levels, or something. Now, buying things from a shop is no more challenge for me here than it is in Australia. But haggling in a market is something that I have yet to fully master.

The long, lazy summer holiday gave me plenty of time to think about my life in China. That's the life where I teach english, gradually make new friends, and have to constantly ask myself: is my level of chinese sufficient for the task at hand, or will I need help? Compare that to my life in Australia, where I worked as a computer programmer, had friends and family all over town, bought music, watched movies, went to concerts, and read the newspaper. I'm still the same person, but I stepped onto a plane and everything else changed.

"Six months or a year" was the answer I gave when people asked me how long I was going to stay in China. You might as well ask on a first date, "How long will this relationship last?" In reality, I had only made a decision to go. I didn't know what was going to happen after that. I'm planning to go back to Australia in February to see my friends and family, but after that there's a good chance that I'll return to China for at least another 6 months.

But I can't put my Australian life "on hold" forever. A year ago, when I was asking myself "why China?", there were so many good reasons that the trip seemed almost inevitable. But the question I never asked myself was "why leave Australia?" After all, I was very happy there. But now I also have something to lose by leaving China: my friends here, and the effort I've spent learning the language and culture. That was the quandary that ran through my head over the summer. Just six months in China, and I was already losing sleep over my future! Finally, I remembered that one of the reasons I was happy in Australia was that I didn't worry too much about where my life was leading. I slept better after that.

I have a strange kind of drive. I like to feel that each day I have accomplished something: studied chinese, written a song, or simply cleaned the house. But I've never seen work as an accomplishment. On the contrary, it's something that gets in the way. I'm not sure where this attitude came from. Perhaps money is the poison: whether you see the function of work as earning wages for the worker, or earning profit for the company, it all boils down to the same ignoble motive.

And this despite the fact that I haven't worked in the private sector since I graduated. Now, as a teacher, I'm paid for the hours I stand in the classroom. But to teach a lesson that I'm satisfied with, I have to spend hours on the weekend preparing. A waste of time? Perhaps not. Perhaps I should feel proud of the work I do, helping my students in some small way to learn a foreign language. The idea that a job could be an achievement in my life rather than just an unfortunate necessity is a startling thought for me, and it will take a while to get used to.

I spoke to a friend in Australia recently, and he asked me a very odd question. He asked me if I was happy living in China. Sure, life is not quite so easy as it was in Australia, and some of my favourite kinds of entertainment are less accessible, like cafes and music. But I'm happy enough. Anyway, happiness wasn't the first thing on my mind when I decided to come here. I'm not exactly sure what I expected to find in China, to tell the truth. I just knew that I wanted to go.

One of my chinese friends was very impressed when he learnt that I'd been to Germany. He said that I was leading a "modern life". I asked, does a modern life mean visiting other countries? He thought for a moment, and then gave his definition: xiang zuo shenme, jiu zuo shenme (do whatever you want to do). I wanted to come to China, and I came. Is there any greater happiness?

Love Todd