Globetrottie 

China, Shenzhen (By Anonymous Contributor)

 

Going to Shenzhen was one of the best things I’ve ever done, and one of the worst things I’ve ever done. Shenzhen was where I became much wiser, and it was where I became as foolish as I’ve ever been. I had a summer of bliss, and a winter of despair. Spring brought much better things, though, but by then I’d already left. I lost one friend, some weight and nine months of my time; I gained twenty-eight acquaintances, two lovers and one gold pen. In short, for better or worse, going to Shenzhen changed everything.

I learnt that being a superb salesman par excellence has absolutely nothing to do with being a good or even decent businessman; that being shrewd and good at reading people has nothing to do with genuinely knowing someone you call your closest friend; that a guy who got a different woman in his bed almost every night actually really just pined for one that he’d lost forever after an irretrievable night of drug-induced delirium; that a mother’s tears can sometimes be the most toxic substance in the world.

I learnt that a guy who has only $100k in his bank account at about 50 is considered a failure in life, even by himself; that the more a guy tells you he’s only being reasonable, the more unreasonable he’s being; that a guy who complains Singaporean women “don’t know how to be women” on account of being “too educated” is one of the most poorly-educated guys in the world, Masters in Finance notwithstanding; that the more a guy rely on mystical calculations to advance his fortunes, the more fortune deserts him.

I learnt that the Chinese don’t want to learn English if they’re already wealthy and idle, because the only valid reason for learning English is to improve one’s lot in life; that the Chinese know next to nothing about the rest of the world, but can be persuaded that speaking English like Americans do is the key to conquering it; that the Chinese believe in love so much, they will sell themselves for it; that the Chinese believe in friendship so much, all it takes to make a friend is a shared drink and a few dice games with at least one lounge hostess accompanying each man in the room.

Instagram this: the fixed, wan smile on the pale face of a 27-year-old single mother of a 3-year-old girl, who had opened a shoe shop that got nowhere, who somehow decided that the best she could subsequently do was to make a living by drinking, singing, playing dice games and getting groped nightly (average tip per night: about USD$70, not counting the proceeds of any discreet private arrangements).

Flickr this: a row of plain, sallow girls filing into a room and standing silently while men and women alike look on in frank, undisguised appraisal; a woman speaks up and comments, in some puzzlement, “Why do your girls all look so weird? Hey, manager, can we get some proper-looking ones in here? Seriously, these look weird.” The girls smile, bow and shuffle out as the floor manager apologises and assures us that pretty ones are coming.

Tumblr this: a young man high as a kite on a potentially lethal cocktail of drugs taking a swing at a dancer who’s hopelessly in love with him, because he sees her sprouting horns and a red devil tail; in the morning, the young man wakes up in a hotel room to the dancer dabbing at his forehead with a wet towel. She is sporting a swollen and bleeding lip, but has attended him through the night with as much care and tenderness as a Madonna watching over her infant child. Meanwhile, his nominal girlfriend sprawls in a corner of the adjoining bathroom, having been subdued hours earlier by her friends after an abortive suicide attempt.

Only go to Shenzhen if you’re reasonably rich and want unethical ways of getting richer – note the distinction between “unethical” and “illegal”. Only go to Shenzhen if you have a liver of steel and a high tolerance for the worst-smelling cigarettes in the world. Only go to Shenzhen if your idea of a good time invariably involves shattering your eardrums with rowdy KTV singing and club music.

“Shenzhen isn’t home to us,” said a man who’d been there for 7 years with his family. He worked in the electronics industry – 9 out of 10 people you meet on the streets in Shenzhen will be involved with it in some capacity. “The city feels… empty. We look forward every year to the various holiday periods when we all make trips back to our hometowns. My home village is more of a home than Shenzhen will ever be.”

“I’ve never been out with a foreigner before!” gushed a girl who was eating sushi for the first time. She spoke in halting English, happy to have the chance to practise. “You all speak English most of the time? I like English song, but I know only a little. I will be happy if you teach me!”

“I want my daughter to have an education overseas,” said a young mother of one who also ran her own small but profitable business, with five employees on her payroll. Her daughter is absolutely adorable. “I’ve quarrelled with my husband many times about this. He can’t see the value of it. Just the other day I brought up the matter with him, and all he can say is, what’s wrong with the one in the neighbourhood, what’s so good about foreign things? You might as well have married a foreigner, with the way you’re always going on about it all the time! And I told him, yes, you’re right, I wish I had! We didn’t say anything after that.” She then kicked the blanket aside and wrapped her arms around me. “I know for sure that you can give her a much better environment to grow up in. You can give her so much more. Life will be better for her out of China, I know for sure.” She sighed. “But I’m going to need so much courage, honey…”

“When are you coming back?” said a young girl with an engineering degree that she personally regarded as utterly worthless. I could almost hear her pout. “I told you already, I don’t like farewells. I hate seeing people off at airports. When you come back, I’ll come see you at the airport.” It was from her that I had found out about the strange way China has assimilated Christmas Eve – eat an apple before midnight on Silent Night, and your year will be filled with peace. It’s a homophone thing, you’ll get it if you speak Mandarin. She’d bitten into an apple in my hotel room and fed it to me with her mouth, with about ten minutes to spare. “Tell me when you’ll be back in Shenzhen again.”

“I have a special feeling about you, but with you leaving so soon… everything is so uncertain,” said a girl with a Masters in Pharmaceutical sciences. I held her limp hand gingerly – she wasn’t being limp on purpose, she had never held hands before and she didn’t really know how to do it. “I’m very happy to have met you. Do you know when you will be back in Shenzhen again?”

I couldn’t say, my dear girl. I really couldn’t say.