China - from the back of a Harley...(ok - a Bingfang electric scooter)

The vast majority of foreign expatriates we know here in Shanghai (pretty much all of them) have drivers and minivans to get them around. This is a benefit usually afforded by an employer to help make an expatriate’s life a little easier.  The drivers are Chinese, and if one is lucky, their driver speaks enough English to allow non-Chinese speaking families to communicate with them. It all sounds convenient enough, however we frequently hear problems arising between an expatriate family and their driver. The drivers here tend to talk to one another and know how much money different families will pay, so there are frequent demands for pay raises. They also swap information about little tricks of the trade to earn a little extra money along the way – such as forging parking receipts which they then want to get reimbursed for. Don't get me wrong, not all drivers cause problems. I also hear stories about great friendships that have developed between families and their drivers.

Even if one wanted to drive themselves, it is pretty difficult to arrange. Obtaining an international driver’s license in China is difficult, and purchasing any gasoline powered vehicle in China is extremely expensive once you take into account the pollution tax, the road registration tax, and other licensing and fees. The fees associated with purchasing a vehicle can amount to the actual cost of the vehicle itself, thus doubling the purchase cost. The intent is to allow market forces to hold back the ever-increasing number of cars on the road. (Yes I said “market forces”. Even in a communist country, this concept is widely used – especially when dis-incentives are involved.)

While anyone can hire a driver and vehicle, my company does not reimburse this cost (which, with fuel, parking, tolls, bonuses, etc. can reach as much as $2,000 per month) so we have opted to try to do without. We are considered the exception. Indeed, people in our area are shocked to hear that we do not have our own vehicle or driver. Accordingly, since arriving here we have had to rely on pedicabs, taxi’s and the subway system to get around Shanghai. For example my daily commute to and from work is always by taxi, and anywhere Monique goes is by pedicab, taxi and/or subway (sort of like “Planes, Trains and Automobiles”, but on a smaller scale.) I estimate our transportation costs to be about $500 per month – but the savings comes at another cost…freedom of getting around.

At long last, after having wished for a long time that we could see more of our local area, last week we bought two electric scooters. These ingenious silent little vehicles are pretty inexpensive (~ $275-$300  each) and require little more than a trickle charge overnight.  Because they are lumped in the Bicycle class of vehicle, you need neither a difficult-to-get license nor any costly registration (and you don’t have to abide by the rules of the road either – grin.) We have instantly experienced a new level of freedom. Whereas in the past we would have to walk or grab a pedicab just to go to the nearby fruit market, now we just jump on our trusty scooters and make the jaunt down the road. More importantly, we now have the freedom to explore the areas of our neighborhood that are beyond walking distance. WOW – what an eye-opener THAT has turned out to be!!!

Last Monday evening we decided to go out on a ride in our community. Although we have known that we live on the very edge of suburban Southeast Shanghai, and knew there were some “rural” areas nearby, we never imagined how close we are to farms, and even to some poor shantytowns. With Monique leading the way, we drove down a narrow wall-lined road to see what we could find. At one point, Monique spotted large numbers of people coming and going through a break in the wall. Curious, she decided to go exploring and turned into the same trail. We were instantly transported from Shanghai 2011 to rural Pudong 1950. Behind the wall we found some of the most destitute conditions you might imagine. And this less than 2 kilometers from our house!  Who knew!

As we weaved (wove?) our way down the dirt trail between the dilapidated old homes and through garden paths we were amazed at the feeling that we were in a third world country (Shanghai proper is anything but “third world”.) You can well imagine the astonishment on the faces of some of these Chinese people to see 2 foreigners – one of which is a cute American woman – zooming through their little village on sparkling brand-new scooters. To the repeated refrains of “Halloow” we worked our way through the small village, eventually crossing through yet another break in a different time-warp wall. We emerged back in to Shanghai 2011, amidst a brand new complex of 20-story high-rise modern apartments. The distance between hope and despair was no more than 50 yards.

The LDS Church encourages families to preserve Monday nights as “Family Home Evening”, an opportunity for the family to gather together – blocking out all other diversions – to hang out and do stuff together. Upon emerging from our time-warp wall we discovered a new version of Family Home Evening – China style. A warm spring evening… a wide open stretch of newly paved 4 lane road that is not yet open to traffic… and a newly built housing complex full of young new home owners – a perfect recipe to find hundreds of families hanging out together in the middle of the street. Some were teaching their (only) babies to walk. Others were teaching their (only) kiddos to ride a bike. Still others were playing badminton. EVERYONE was gawking at the silly foreigners on their scooters. What a grand opportunity it was to pause and visit with many families, admiring their kids, chattin’ it up with Grandma and allowing as many as wanted to try to practice their English. You know, it is SO easy to make friends here. I wonder if we would do the same in the US?

So eventually we wander off down the road on our silent little electric steeds. On the broad sidewalk corner at the next major intersection we find about 100 women all gathered in a group, dancing in a flowing Chinese way to syncopated music streaming from a boom box. There is almost NO traffic in this new part of town and it seems this street corner is a familiar evening gathering place for these (mostly middle-aged) women. They all know the dances and move in unison – some more graceful than others.

As we stop to watch, all eyes are on us. Monique removes her helmet (only us dopey foreigners wear helmets!) and wades into the crowd of women. EVERYONE – including a large group of onlooking men – watches as she tries to get the gist of these dances. She is a natural, and some of the men swing by to let me know what a quick study she is. But then the song changes, as does the dance. This time it is not so easy to pick up. I can see Mo as she tries to capture the complex rhythms and movements, combined with intricate hand gestures. She’s almost got it, but not quite.  First one woman, then another, ease over (still dancing) to try to help her catch on. They count in Chinese, and exaggerate their steps to help her understand the beat. Now how cool is that? Not a word was spoken (ok, besides the counting), yet here are women of two cultures trying to express their mutual trust, in a most unusual form of communication. It may sound a bit melodramatic, but I’m learning that peace will never be forged out of the barrel of a gun – it will be choreographed on the street corners of willing communities by humble people.

Monique was clearly in her element, and we stayed for a good while. The group of dancers, now swelled to over 120, had accepted her into their midst and many remarked at what a good dancer the foreigner turned out to be. Yet it was time to leave. Before jumping on our scooters, Monique individually motioned appreciation to a couple of the women who helped her. The dancing women all motioned “goodbye” with their eyes and their smiles – never breaking the rhythm of their beautiful dance.

But wait, there’s more (with me, there always is.)

Wanting to find another way back to our home, we wander off in another direction. Once again, Monique is in the lead and she turns down yet another little pathway. This time into what I thought was going to be a dead end in a conclave of “homes”. We come to a “T” in the path and pause to decide which direction to go. A fellow peddler passes us by and turns left – so we naturally think that may be the way to go. Then we look right and see a group of 12-15 locals sitting on crates and plastic stools in the middle of the pathway under a dimly lit streetlight. In unison they all point to their right, motioning that “if you are looking for which way to go, it’s over here”.  We ease up to their little party and find that some of them are taxi drivers, some are engineers on the subway system, and others are truck drivers – pretty much all of them are on the low end of the economic totem pole. But they are friendly and kind. After 5-10 minutes of chit chat, we ask for more specific instructions on where this road will lead. (It heads off into undeveloped areas with little lighting, and no immediate signs that it will go all the way through to our neighborhood.) “Go over the bridge, and around the warehouse. Go past the first bridge on your right, then down the dirt road next to the canal. When you come to another bridge, go right, then left, then over another bridge….”  By now I’m lost – but we decide to proceed anyway.

Somewhere down the dirt road by the canal, we’re REALLY feeling lost. No signs of life anywhere, minimal light, and two goofy foreigners trying to figure out where to go. Then out of nowhere from behind us comes the voice of one of the men from the streetlight riding on his scooter with his wife (these things are REALLY silent – we didn’t hear him roll up.)  “we sorta thought you might get lost – here, follow us.”  They had gone back to their home, gotten on a scooter to come out to make sure we got where we wanted to go. Again, how cool is that? I hope I would be gracious enough to do that for someone else. We follow them over hill and dale, and eventually spill out on to a road a block from our house. Barney and Betty (I didn’t get their Chinese names) are turning right, we are turning left. We holler our best “Thank you!” in Chinese and part company, once again impressed at the kindnesses that can be found if you look for them.

To say we are grateful for our little scooters is an understatement. They have (more than just this one time) opened up opportunities to experience a side of China that would have been missed if we were traveling through with our driver and minivan. A lot of people remark that we seem to have some of the coolest experiences. Oddly, they are there available for anyone – we just happen to keep stumbling into them. And for this we are incredibly grateful.