Who am I?
Why am I here?
Where am I going?
As a devote Christian I can easily answer #1 and #3 but as to question #2 and why I am writing this essay in the “restaurant” area of a McDonald’s in Kalispell, Montana?
I have no idea.
There is just not enough concrete here.
Not enough steel buildings.
And that’s not me. Because, I’m a city boy.
We left China in a bit of a huff, but honestly, there was no future for our family in China.
The economy, in my opinion, is taking a nosedive. As a foreigner and an American living and working in China, there is no future for you unless you are posted with a big fat paycheck from an international company like Apple or IBM. As a freelancer, on my own and hustling for every RMB I could earn, it was never enough for my growing family who looks to me every day for their “sustainment”.
In China, unless you are really rich, you cannot buy a house.
The Chinese Government owns all of the land and the locals only have it on a 99-year lease and they have to sit on their land for it to “roll over” for another 100 years which in many ways why extended families never leave their homes.
As a foreigner, you can only rent your own apartment and it can be quite expensive – from $600 we were paying for a 70 sq m, two bedroom apartment. The more you pay for, the more you get.
Even so, I loved my life in China.
When we lived in Guangzhou, we had a wonderful three-bedroom apartment of 120 sq. m. Cris and I had our own bathrooms. We had a half bath too. Cris and I shared our own office and the kids had their own bedroom. We had slaves, sorry, cleaning staff, come and clean the apartment three times weekly.
I rode my mountain bike all around the central park area of the city, across the Pearl River from the Canton Tower. I was buff and my legs incredibly toned.
And I had “face”.
In China I was somebody. Because of my work for the Chinese Government, I was honored and respected. Everyone knew my name. I would go to lunches with leaders of the Communist Party and my advice was sought out by leaders of governments worldwide.
Now I am sitting in a McDonald’s.
And I am a nobody.
I wait in line for a cheeseburger like anyone else.
I have no face here in America and no one would know how to “give face” if their life demanded it.
I love my America – but I am so lost here. I yearn to return to Asia.
To the hustle and bustle of Hong Kong.
To my mobile phone ringing away with this and that person calling to see if I could help them do this and that.
There is no “face’ here in Montana – only endless empty blue sky which for some might be nice. Not now. Not yet.
To me it is a slow and agonizing death spiral that is only paused when I send out an endless stream of resumes to hundreds of companies that are doing business in Asia.
I’ll take concrete any day to “fresh air” and “blue sky”.
