Guera in China: November 2012

I’m baaaaaaaaack!

Yes, it has been about a month since I posted anything of the adventures of Guera in China. What can I say… it’s been a busy month: report cards, paint by number, running with Sinead, big Chinese dinners, Chinese lessons, teaching, teaching, teaching, trying to send mail, baking in the toaster oven, and making soup… just living the Weifang dream. In short, I guess it has been that month where you realize, that you do actually live and work in China. This isn’t to say that the lustre has worn off completely- I think it’s more to say that I’m in the groove a bit. Nonetheless, I am going to try my best to regale you with some anecdotal tales of recent happenings, trials, and tribulations.

I’ll start with with a little something I like to call Postal Triumph or Why You Are Receiving A Postcard Inside An Envelope.

I used to believe that the process of mailing a postcard would be more or less the same from country to country. Used to. China: You win. You have changed me.

As you all know, I love mail. I love getting mail. I love sending mail. Mail is magical. When I get mail here, I do a happy dance. The student that delivers it to the office thinks I’m crazy. And, my officemates are jealous. But as Sam often says: “Ha’ers gonna hate!” And, I LOVE MAIL.

So, first, I had to find some postcards. Being a non-tourist town, there is not a postcard to be found in Weifang. (Well, not a tourist postcard.) So, I had to find some in Beijing. This was pretty easy- I found a few sets that were to my kitschy touristy liking and on the way back from Beijing- I sat down on that train and started to write.

So far, so good.

I finally had a stack big enough to make it worthwhile for me to find the post office. Obviously, I went with a friend. Rule #1 of tying to get shit done in China is bring a friend. This is because you need to moral support to work your way through the language barrier and to be persistent enough to stick it out until you get what needs to get done done. You also need a partner so that you can laugh your way through the frustrations (before, during, and after). Finally, it’s good to have a witness. Sometimes the obstacles you encounter are just so obscure and nonsensical, it’s best to have another human being there to confirm the reality of the situation.

So, Sam and I went to the post office, armed and ready to mail. I had some postcards, she had some care packages and we were ready. We asked about the prices, explained the destinations…. It seemed alright. I sent some postcards to Jianada but noticed that they just sent them through the machine that postmarked them. Being a bit of a mail connoisseur, and having likeminded recipients, I wanted stamps.

With the help of the Lonely Planet Phrasebook, we proceeded to ask for stamps. Such a proposterious request! At a post office?! Why? I had to explain that my friends in Canada would like stamps because they are pretty. This was through a series of gestures, facial expressions, and-let’s be honest- about 5 Chinese words.

Understandably, Sam was ready to give up as it had already been several minutes and her care packages were rejected because they did not contain exclusively print material. Who do you think you are? Trying to mail a magnet and a pair of socks home?? It’s time to call a friend. This is when Sam dials up Alison. She works at the school and is our Chinese translation go-to. We hand the phone over to the postal worker. He’s not super impressed, but the conversation happens. He hands the phone back. She is also confused, but says we have to call a courier. Now, about those stamps… I was not leaving that post office without stamps.

Reluctantly, one of the workers went to the backroom and started to print the stamps. Okay, perhaps not. But she sure was stalling. I think part of China Post workers’ strategies is to delay services as much as possible in hopes that you will just leave. Laurel Temmel will send mail goddammit. Finally, she came back with an envelope full of sheets of stamps.

She tried to explain that stamps wouldn’t work because the highest denomination they come in is 1 RMB.

It costs 4.5 to send a postcard to Jianada.

Clearly, this was not the economical choice. Plus, 5 stamps would take up half the postcard.

Whatever lady, gimme 300 stamps (three of us teachers wanted stamps).

No deal.

You can only have 150 at a time.

Fine.

So, we leave the post office with stamps. 50 each, that’s enough for ten postcards. This is a start. We are gonna have to find out about sending those socks home.

A workweek passes and it’s a rainy Saturday. It’s the perfect day to go to Starbucks, drink some watery, sugary coffee and write some postcards to my peeps. I’ve got the stamps, I’ve got the cards, I’ve got the time, I’m in the mood. Conditions are perfect.

Now, I’m feeling confident. The postcards are written, they have stamps, they have addresses, so I think, I will just go drop them off afterschool at the post office. (Mail boxes are hard to locate.)

I walk in with my stack of postcards. I go up to the counter. I stand there and wait. And wait. It’s okay, I know this part of the game. I wait and wait while you ignore me in hopes that I will just leave. No deal folks. I’m sending these. Finally, it’s my turn. The cards are in piles depending on their destination country. She starts flipping through them and talking to the other worker. I don’t understand Chinese, but I do understand that something is wrong.

She turns to me and says something.

-Ting bu dong. (I don’t understand.)

-Something else.

-Ting bu dong. Duibuqi. (I don’t understand. Sorry)

She switches to English. (What!? You speak English!!? After that stamp fiasco….)

My postcards are not postcards. They are photos. You can’t mail photos in China. She shows me a China Post postcard. Of course it’s pretty ugly. It’s one of those postcards that you are supposed to send to the sticks where your grandparents live to tell them that you have just had a baby and they should come to town on the next train. I love the idea, but I am not really interested in sending telegraphs. I have to insist that yes, these are photographs and they are postcards. I bought them in Beijing, which is China, so it is allowed. Further, I mailed the same kind last week. She converses with her coworker and they concede on this point.

Next issue, my postcards are written in brown ink. Yes, it’s true. When I was at Starbucks, I couldn’t find a black sharpie and my black pens were smearing on the glossy finish of the postcards. So, I went for a brown sharpie. No big deal, right? Right? WRONG! You couldn’t be more wrong.

-In China, you can only send postcards that are written in black.

-But, the addresses are in black.

-Yes, but the whole thing has to be in black.

-It will still get there if it is brown.

-Yes, but it is the standard.

-It doesn’t matter.

-Yes, but it is the standard.

The conversation continues like this for a while. Options are explained. I can write over the brown in black. I can put them all together and send them in a box back to Canada. This is when I find out that you can mail things that aren’t just paper- it just has to be in a box. I consider this a half victory- but for a different battle. Or, I can put them in envelopes and mail them home. But, absolutely nothing but black ink on a postcard can be mailed out of China.

-Why?! This is crazy!! Why does this matter?

-Our leader says this is the standard.

-Why?

-Because his leader says this is the standard. There are standards in China because a leader says so. Because his leader says so. Because of his leader. (She points to imaginary rungs) This is the standard in China.

-…

-I think you are a hero.

-…. ? ….

-You are living in China.

-I am not a hero, I just work here and want to send postcards.

-I think you are very beautiful and tall. I want do be your friend. What is your telephone?

-Thank you. You are very nice. And today, I lost my cellphone. I think Ieft it on the bus.

-Do you like China?

-I love China. China is very beautiful and the people are very lovely. Like you, you are very lovely. It is just this kind of thing that makes me feel crazy.

-Yes. I know. This is crazy. If I can change China, I will change this standard.

So, I decide: envelopes. I will just put these postcards in envelopes and mail them. And today, I will just mail the ones that I can because I happened to write a couple of

-Okay, can I get some envelopes and I will just rewrite the addresses and I will mail these ones that are in black?

-Oh no.

-… (now what???!)

-It is 4:30. We are done work today.

-… (FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!! I GOT HERE AT 3:45!!!! Plus, I thought we were friends, WeiXiaoWen…?)… okay. I will come back next week.

So, I leave. With my stack of postcards. Oh China, you don’t make it easy. Thankfully it’s Friday, so I have all weekend to sort this envelope thing out and rewrite the addresses in black.

Of course, I buy the China Post standardized envelopes and write on them in black ink. No brown, no blue, no stickers, no smooches, no smiley faces. Each one is sealed with a prayer that it will arrive on time and a threat to China Post; take this envelope or else… well, I don’t know what. But something... I’m starting to feel the zeal of a crusader. I’m telling my friends the ways of China Post. It’s almost become a game now. Almost. I still have to win.

Early in the next week, Sinead and I head off to the post office. Perhaps my mistake of the second trip was going alone. I know that if I don’t have a buddy this time, the crusader might be defeated. I might just sit on that counter and cry. In fact, that might even be my best strategy…

We enter. Brown-inked postcards are sealed inside envelopes addressed in black ink. I look for my new best friend and I don’t see her. The other workers reluctantly deal with my stack of Jianada-bound post. Sinead sends a few too. My bill is a whooping 170 RMB.

The lady is kind enough to tip us off about email – it’s free you know…

I won’t let this logic taint my triumph and glory.

VICTORY!!!

Dear China Post,

I win.

Love, Laurel

Okay, I shouldn’t speak too soon. I will shout it from the mountaintop when y’all receive a postcard inside an envelope.

Photographic Evidence:

Writing postcards on the way home from Beijing. Blissfully ignorant of the hullaballoo to follow...