An Emigrating Hotspot: Fuzhou, China

Walking through foreign streets of Fuzhou China, I am constantly reminded that I am the other. "Shau Mei," peddlers stalk me with eagle-eyed precision, picking me from the fray as a tourist. "Shau Mei," they cry, Little Miss, honey sweet words drip to coax money out of my pockets. I am not as green as you think. My first day here and a dud phone card later taught me well.

My host tries to ease the transition. He presents me with loud notebooks graphitized with Hong Kong pop stars and stationary to write back home. I retreat to my room and flip on the tV. "Jong guo bau gao di.. [flip] nien co ii shin fun juo ti [switch] dai jia hao ren shen shin [click.]" Coming to China, I envisioned delicious food, ethereal scenery, inspiring temples, not a cluster flock of bicycles, obnoxious traffic, and mongers jumping at me like I was the last white hope. ZHAO-ZAIchileitong-mienCHIBaoJau-Jao FUCK! I shut the door. Why am I here?

I stare out the window. Mao's back taunts me.

One step at a time. I accept Lin's invitation to the mall the next day. She tells me to keep quiet as she orders with a family discount.

"Your sister?" The waitress smiles. "Has she been away to college?"

"Yes, yes," Lin shoos.

"What college do you go to?" She asks.

"A college..." I break into laughter as I realize I've reached the extent of my vocabulary.

The waitress gives me a funny look but doesn't renig the discount.

DAY 2

We visit Xichan Temple. Litchi trees rustle against the rounded stone gate. We follow the line to buy what looks like packets of gold. I get excited until Lin tells me we have to place it on this spinning tree as an offering.

Day 3 We've been had!

Katherine and I venture out on our own. We make a pact not to speak English, especially when shopping. The cabbie somehow catches on and swindles us for three-times the cab fare. Though we don't realize it until the end of the evening when our return cab brings us home in half the time.

Day 4 My husband-to-be Meet & Greet

No one asks questions. I am warmly, genuinely received. Red packets of money are exchanged, and a celebration ensues. Astounding -- a seven-course meal plete with three different soups and five waiters costs $20.

Day 5 A Hairy Experience

Taking advantage of the cheap services as my trip nears its close, I choose an electric blue hue for my hair. Bad move. As Le Hair Extraordinaire towel dries the rinse off, I see chunks of my coif fall to the floor. Color & Cut, it is!

Day 6 Food Poisoning

I can hear Katherine vomiting downstairs. After her thirteenth trip to the bathroom, we make it to the hospital. My concerned friend hands me a newspaper clipping about contaminated shellfish causing locals to get sick. Somehow my host dad poo-poos the article and reserves another feast at the same seafood joint. You guessed it. I come down with the seven-year-stomachache and wind up in the hospital.

Day 7 Good Bye

It's time to go home, but I can barely make it out alive. I am sideswiped by a car, I am walking so slow. My "brand new" luggage is disintegrating as I roll it through the airport. By the time I retrieve it in baggage claim, I'm missing a shoe and handbag which presumably fell out of the gaping hole. Do not, I repeat, NOT buy luggage made in China.

Touchdown! After a month in China, it dawns on me why the Chinese call America mei guo (beautiful kingdom) .The roads are pristine, there's lush toilet paper in facilities, and people don't look like -well, villagers.