Dec. 2021; The good, the bad, and the ugly

Nǐ hǎo, Shalom, Yā, _Yō, Privet, Sawubona, and Cześć! Well this is it, the Sunday scribble is finally back. I’m not going to flatter myself by thinking that scores of readers have been poised with baited breath for this, but I know several people have been wondering what’s happened. So here I am, cap in hand and ready to blurt it all out. It’s not that I ran out of steam, I’m generally a pretty motivated person when it comes to writing and creating stuff. And it’s not that I wanted to quit it, writing is something I do solely out of joy, a pleasurable way for me to relax and get it out. No. What happened was essentially this; 2021 has absolutely sucked. I can honestly say it’s been the worst year of my life. Personally, emotionally, and financially. Many times over the last few months I’ve sat down and tried to write something cohesive, but it’s all just spewed out like poison. Anger, negativity, jealousy, self pity and a whole lot more. And it’s taken until this point that I can put it all down calmly, and use this as my own particular brand of self therapy. Get it out.

The new year is rapidly approaching, and brings back the naive tentative hopes for 2021 I had in mind. Travel. Photography. Relationships. All the things I wanted to achieve, the places I wanted to be, were all nervously rattling around in my deformed coconut, wishing and praying for a better year than 2020. And oh, how wrong could I be. But, in fairness, there have been some good times over the last few months. There’s also been some miserably bad times. And unfortunately, there’s been some damned ugly times too. So this weeks Sunday scribble isn’t my usual charismatic blend of topic and opinion blah blah blah, this is just kind of a catch up. What’s kept me from writing, concentrating, sleeping, and being the (mostly) warm person I usually am. If you want the abridged version, it goes like this; I wasn’t ok, now I’m ok. But, if you want to hear the full story then best go get yourself a cup of tea and a biscuit, and find a comfy chair to curl up in. This is a long one. This is the good, the bad, and the ugly.

The good.

As the old adage goes, every cloud has a silver lining. And my cloud was large, black, pissing on me from a great height, and it lasted 6 months. As many people are aware of, or at least many people have noticed, there’s a distinct lack of foreigners now compared to this time last year. Many assume people just left because of reasons relating to the virus, and I’m sure many did. But at least here in Shenzhen, it’s rather a different story. Earlier this year the powers that be decided to change the visa policies here. Business and tourist visas were made null and void, so for the people here who didn’t have a regular work visa, there was 4 clear and understandable choices;

1. Get a regular job and get the aforementioned work visa.

2. Start your own company and (hopefully) get your own work visa.

3. Marry a local.

4. Get the fu*k out.

After leaving my last full time job almost 2 years ago, option 1 wasn’t on my mind. Dubious employers are fully aware that your visa is connected to your job, and they can make endless and terribly unfair demands, in the broad knowledge that they have you over a barrel. That was what my last boss was like, and I have no intention of repeating that again. Plus, as the saying goes, “If you’re not building your own dream, someone will hire you to build theirs.” Option 3 was also not jumping out for a cuddle. I fully believe in marriage, I think when you’re with the right person it’s a match made in heaven. But I would not ever marry for a visa, I will marry for love. It looked like option 4 was on the horizon, and I had my plan B and plan C ready. But, I didn’t actually want to leave. China has been my home for over a decade. Over a quarter of my life has been here, and I wasn’t quite ready to jump ship. And amidst this virus time, once you’re out of China, you’ve got a snowflakes chance in hell of getting back in. So, all that remained for me to try and stay is option 2; set up my own company.

Now, I’m being extremely honest when I say I’m not the smartest guy on the block. I know we all mostly think of ourselves as intelligent, (nobody thinks they are thick as pigshit, even though they may well be) but I also realize that if there was some amazing overall intelligence test, I’d be in the bottom half. Some things I’m alright at. I can write a bit and communicate reasonable effectively. I can play you a tune on the guitar and I can take a few snaps here and there. And I can make you a damned good cocktail. But business stuff really, truly, absolutely, is not my strong point. I just don’t think that way. But I’ve had a bash at it. In Hong Kong I was the operations director for 5 bars, which is a very fancy title for “general dogsbody.” I would hire and fire, training, cash stuff, meetings and negotiations and blah-de-blah, also covering for any off-duty bartenders or managers, but the lifestyle and hours near killed me. I would work from 10am until after 3am most days. Sometimes I would still be working at 6am, covering the bar and watching the sun come up as some drunk orders yet another round of drinks. Having 2 days off a month and sleeping 4 hours a day will catch up on you, trust me. So evidently this past experience doesn’t show me in good light for business dealings, (I find it very difficult to say no or to refuse a request, I always have been) but hey, I had to do something.

The first step was renting an office. This, in itself, is a real ballache. It has to be minimum of 30m2, and in an approved building, suitable for us foreign devils to do our sorcery and witchcraft. So I got that in June, started the proceedings to register my company, and… then got robbed and had my passport and visa stolen. Bollocks. So I applied for a new passport, and the pathetically useless British passport office decided to take 11 bloody weeks for the new one to get to me. 3 months of begrudgingly paying for an office I could not use, at the rental price equivalent to that of a small apartment. Finally new passport was gifted from the gods, and business proceedings go ahead. I had a lovely agent called Lindsay assist me with all this, but I would never have guessed just how much documentation is needed along the way. Insane amounts. The bureaucracy, the sleepless nights, the bad moods, the upset and the worry. I swear I must have checked flights and destinations 50 times in those months. Thinking where will be next, if I have to start over again. Japan was of course my first choice, but they are being equally concerned about opening their borders as China is. The sheer nerves can make you go more than a bit crazy. And all this whilst regularly near-begging on bended knees at the immigration office for another 1-month visa extension, while this business stuff is sorted out. But, finally, 6 months later, it all is sorted out. And I am now the whip-cracking CEO of my own company. This is my silver lining. There’s still more documents to submit, and the process will still be ongoing for some time, but I’m here, I’m happy, and I’m legal. All I have to do now is kick-start that flabby lump of grey poop between my ears and figure out business stuff. Businessman Jay. I even bought some new brogues, so at least I look the part. Sort of.

Another couple of blessings from this year is me using my big loud gob. I was very graciously asked to speak for international students at the Peking university, Beijing, thanks to a very dear friend of mine who is a professor there. I did a talk about being a Londoner and photographer in China for over 10 years, some of my experiences and opinions about here and other Asian countries, through my words and photos. Now Peking university is one the most prestigious universities in the whole world, and here’s me, Jay from Waterloo, who started pulling pints in pubs at 15 years old, giving a lecture to amazingly intelligent students there. I can say wholeheartedly that in my life, this was the highest honour I’ve ever been given. And even more gratefully, I will be working with them again in the not too distant future. Just incredible. I am extremely thankful to be given this chance.

But it doesn’t stop there. On the back of this, and thanks to another incredible lady, I was also asked to give a talk to the Shanghai Lida university just a couple of weeks ago. Once again talking about life as a westerner and photographer in China, to over 1000 keen students. And once again I am nothing but thankful for this amazing opportunity. A year ago I never would have thought that someone like me would be listened to by the next generation of thinkers and artists.

Some other good stuff happened too. I got the finalist prize in this big Shenzhen photo competition thing, same as I did last year. I was asked to write an essay and do a presentation for the China Photographers Association, the most respected photography association in the world. And I moved apartment. Which, in itself, is torture. But now the building I live in is right next to another building, which is seemingly full of hookers.

Now, I don’t necessarily condone the usage of these ladies services, but I am rather fascinated with their choice of lifestyle and generation of income. I have nothing but respect for people’s choices, and I think all people should be free to use their body as they see fit. We don’t look down on massage ladies or physiotherapists, and what they do is essentially the same as hookers; they use their skills to make you feel good. Working in bars for well over 20 years you kind of get used to being around hookers. You get to know how they talk and how they walk, and they just become absolutely normal people. Of course, it took a while for the penny to drop and for me to realize they were hookers. When I first moved here, several times I caught attractive mid-20’s girls smiling at me and outwardly flirting, and big dumb me was thinking “hey, I gotta stock up on this cologne.” No, dummy, they are hookers. Every day there are tons of fresh hooker cards dotted along the streets and pathways. And every evening when I walk my dog you can see these girls waiting patiently in the same spot, they frantically check their phones, and eventually a car rolls up and they climb in. Off they go, to find some dark alley and earn the rent money. One evening I saw a girl arrive outside her building, climb out of a car, smoke a cigarette and check her phone, then 5 minutes later climb in another car. Free enterprise, and good luck to them.

The bad.

The most upsetting part of this year for me happened just a week ago. My turtle, Peggy, died. I saved her from being flushed down the toilet about 6 years ago. (Parents; DO NOT give these disgusting “turtle in a keyring” things to your kids; they are vile disrespect of life and should be illegal, like they would be in most other countries.) I was away for a few days doing the Shanghai university talk and she was being looked after, but when I got home I found her already crossed over the rainbow bridge. Bless her. She was ill for a few weeks but I hoped it would pass. She hadn’t eaten properly for ages and she had a cold (yes, turtles can sneeze) yet I thought she’d get through it fine. But she wasn’t. After a while I took her little lifeless body and found a warm, quiet river outside Shenzhen, and off she floated, to swim forever. And boy did I cry like a baby.

When it comes to animals I can be extremely emotional. I could (and have) seen two grown men smash each other apart until their faces are a bloody mess, and it barely makes me raise an eyebrow. But animals are altogether a different story. To me, they are helpless, they depend on us. And the main reason for my upset wasn’t that Peggy died, it was that it all happened on the anniversary of my dog Omar dying. Now that absolutely killed me.

I had him for about 6 years. He belonged to some guys who kept him on their small apartment balcony, in all weathers, for about 2 years. He was grossly overweight from no exercise, and that they didn’t buy him proper dog food, they gave him their leftovers (“He likes chili and pizza especially,” I remember being lovingly told by them.) I managed to get him from them, and I loved him more than I’ve ever loved any animal. And then a few years ago he was poisoned, and he died. I’d heard on the grapevine that the delightful “city managers” were putting out poison for the stray cats and dogs, so I was always super careful with him. Short leash and I never let him eat anything he found, as much as he wanted to. I swear that dog was part canine, part vacuum cleaner. But somehow, he did, without me noticing. I walked him right before I went to work, and he was fine. I got home, and he was dead. I took him to be cremated, and it completely destroyed me. I probably ate 3 small meals in the 10 days following his death, but what I lacked in food I more than made up for with booze. I cried for a solid week, until my eyes were painfully sore and my throat felt like I’d eaten broken glass.

Every year around that day I get emotional and quiet, then it passes and I’m ok again. But losing a pet can truly tear you up, as those who’ve experienced this and feel as I do can attest. And as with many, I find my upset can turn into unfathomable anger in a heartbeat during these times of high emotion. After he died, or rather after he was taken away from me, all I could think of was finding out who did it. And I’m very, very thankful I never did. I can openly swear that I would not have been able to control myself had I found the person who poisoned him. Hell, I wouldn’t have wanted to control myself. But that wouldn’t have brought him back, it would have just ruined my life. To me, hurting an animal is like hurting a baby. And someone took my baby away from me.

The loss of anyone (or anything) near and dear is a life changing thing. My grandad, uncle and dad all died between the ages of 59-61, and all from smoking related sickness. But we knew they were dying, and when their time came it was actually more of a relief than anything. To not see them suffer any more was somewhat of a reassurance. During this terrible pandemic I simply cannot imagine what some parents must have felt like when they lost their children to this virus. When they had their babies taken away from them. It must be unimaginable how much suffering they go through. When will this virus end….?

The Ugly.

Now I’m going to be somewhat careful how I word this, as I don’t want people to think I’m generalizing anybody and everybody. This year has very effectively shown people’s true colours. The good people have been amazing. And the bad people have been bloody horrible. One thing that irritates me more now than ever before, is hearing Laowei every time someone looks at you. Laowei is too tall. Laowei can’t use chopsticks. Laowei are all fat. Laowei blah blah blah. I am beyond sick of it. Just imagine you live in another country for a decade, and 20, 30, 50 times a day you hear Chinese when people talk about you. Chinese so short. Chinese eat with pencils. Chinese all wear glasses. It’s really that ridiculous. Why do people feel the need to constantly mention your ethnicity whenever speaking? How about that guy is tall, or that lady has blonde hair. I sometimes feel this is mostly a Shenzhen-thing. It happens in other cities I’ve been to, but far, far less. And in the rural areas I’ve visited, it happens far, far more. Ugh.

As many people are both ignorant and misinformed, these last 2 years their self defence mechanisms have gone into overdrive. Morons read “imported case” of the virus, but what they actually think is “foreigner imported case.” No. To this day, if I sit on the metro half the time nobody will sit next to me. People have refused to get into elevators with me. And I’ve been on the receiving end of more than a few actions and comments, purely because I look different from they do. Let me start with this one.

A few moths ago I’m flying to Shanghai. It was some airline that decided all people must be 180cm or shorter, because the rows of seats were jammed in so tight. Often my knees are touching the seat in front of me, because I think it’s shameful that taller people have to pay for suitable legroom on flights. Being tall is not something you choose. Imagine if they made people in wheelchairs pay more for seats, the world would go mental. But nope, us tall people don’t want to make a fuss, so we sit in seats way too small for us and be bloody uncomfortable for hours. Anyway, on this particular flight the older lady in front of me decided she wanted to sleep, and reclined her seat as far back as it would go. My knees are then poking her in the back. She turns round and shouts at me. I apologise, and explain that I’m nearly 2 meters tall, and if she puts her seat up a little we’ll both be ok. But no, she sure as hell doesn’t want to do that. So she holds the little chair button down and repeatedly brings her chair up and then crashes it down hard onto my knees. And all the time she’s shouting “Laowei this and laowei that,” which goes on for 2 or 3 minutes until the flight attendants comes over. She rants and yells at the flight attendant about me, and the finally the flight attendant says to me “Sir, I can see you are uncomfortable. Would you like to come with me and change seats?”

“YES!” I’m thinking. “Good. This lady can see how unreasonable this old bag is being, and she’s gonna bump me up to business class. Fantastic, I can’t wait to see her face.” But, this was not to be. The flight attendant escorted me all the way down to the very back of the plane, and asked me to sit in the very last row, alone, where nobody else wants to sit. Now I’m not blaming the flight attendant, but why did she make me move? Did I do something wrong? How about making the old bag move her senior citizen bones down there? But no, just me. And it’s not just the planes that cause me issues. Let me tell you about Shanghai’s Pudong jail, sorry, I mean “airport.”

Just over a week ago I’m at Pudong airport, to fly back to Shenzhen, the hot Autumn weather, and the deceased turtle. I go to the check in counter and hand over my documents. The conversation with the man at the counter goes as this;

“Have you had a virus test within 24 hours?”

“No, I didn’t know I needed to.”

“Well you do. You can’t fly back to Shenzhen. You need to go to a hospital and take a test, then come back.”

So this put a real spanner in the works. I move to one side and give myself a minute to think about things. What to do next. I’ll have to get back to Downtown, get a hotel, figure out a hospital doing tests… And while I’m there contemplating, the guy let’s 2 non-foreign people straight through, no test result asked for or required. Then my conversation with him goes like this;

“Why are you letting those people through without a test?”

“Uh, we’re not asking everybody.”

Seriously. What the fu*k. So I get heated, and he says he’s calling his supervisor over. Good. Bloody well call Godzilla over if you want to. During this time the guy lets another 10 or so people through for the Shenzhen flight, all without asking for any test results. The supervisor arrives and clearly sees what’s happened, but he feels compelled to support his staff. Then I get more heated. I asked him if he is only insisting on this because I’m a foreigner, which is discrimination and quite possibly illegal. The supervisor gets all angry, and nervously blurts out “Fine! Get on the flight! But you’ll have to take a test in Shenzhen!!”

And no, it doesn’t stop there. I go through security check and find a shop to buy something to eat and a drink. The shop has chairs and tables for people to sit down, which several are, and eating their cup noodles and whatever. I buy my things and say I don’t need a plastic bag for them, I’ll eat them here. The lady says I can’t, and I have to eat them somewhere else. I don’t want another argument, so I just leave. I walk past scores of people waiting for flights, eating and drinking, and obviously no masks on. I find the quietest place I can and sit down. There is literally nobody in sight for 50 meters or more. I take my mask off and open my crisps. 20 meters away a guard spots me, walks over and demands I put my mask on. I say I’m eating. He raises his voice and demands I put my mask on. So, I put my mask on, and swear I’ll never come back to Pudong airport again.

Now I’m definitely not saying these were racism fuelled. But it was absolutely discrimination against me because I’m a foreigner. Nobody expects special treatment, but please, we should all get fair treatment. Discrimination against others because of their ethnicity or nationality is simply unacceptably close minded in this age. People are just people. Nobody likes to be on the pointy end of prejudice.

If you’ve read through all this, well done! And you probably need to go pee now, so I’ll wrap this up. The Sunday scribble will continue, but perhaps not every single Sunday. I’m a businessman now (haha!) with business things to do (whatever that is.) I’ll end this week with a wink and a cheeky smile, and by wishing you all a very merry Christmas.