Undead Astronauts

flare, is this the reason u were so bent on getting your own place in shanghai?

The hard-boiled bachelorette, Ma Nuo, has gone on to become one of China’s most recognizable bai jin nu. Marry for love? Fat chance, said the material girl: “I would rather cry in a BMW than smile on the back of my boyfriend’s bicycle.“

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“My parents think it’s important…. They would rather I marry someone who owns his own property,” said Wei Na, 28, an advertising saleswoman in Beijing. “It just makes you feel more safe if a man has his own place. I think most women feel the same way.”

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Speed Dating

Last saturday I went to a speed dating event with Manuelo and another female friend who was Dutch Chinese from Holland (“dc girl”). The event rules stipulate that you have 8 minutes to talk to a girl, after 8 minutes, you rotate to the next girl. from 7:30 to 10, you should be able to talk to about 20 girls. I got there at around 7 and met my dc girl to first have a light drink while waiting for Manuelo to show up… (more…)

Last night I had dinner with a friend here. Lets just call him Manuelo . Manuelo  is Chinese, 27, worked for a while as a engineer in China and is soon going to the states for a graduate engineering program.

During dinner, the topic for its own mysterious reasons turned onto prostitution in Asia. Manuelo confided in me that he has paid prostitutes for service 7 time in his life. Naturally, here I am posting Manuelo’s experiences on our blog. The stories were just too interesting.  (more…)

It is on the mornings of great love and great loss in which I rise with the most passion for life. I love you Helena, I love you so much that you are the first thing in my mind in those moments before I first gain consciousness. You stand there, pointing to that stitched cartoon soldier on your favorite pink shirt, and you say “他是我的小兵“. Slowly light would filter in and you would fade away…

But during those moments. I grasp towards you desperately, clawing and straining to reach you. The light behind me, growing ever stronger, pushes you away. You and your little guardian, perched over your heart, recede into the remaining darkness. I yell and cry for you, but the light envelops me, and the light is so loud and bright, more persistent than all my protests. I am drowning my dear Helena. I can’t breath.

I only have one urgent thought in my mind,  to trade places with that 小兵. I want to be your guardian, protecting you, keeping warm your heart. If I could only give away everything, I would. This mind, this consciousness, I will trade it all to push back this terrible light. Then I can rest with you, close to your bosom. And you can point to me, and you can whisper softly in my ear, “你永远是我的小兵“.

It is on the mornings of great love and great loss in which I rise with the most clarity.

Last night I went to a bar called Sasha with several friends. There I met this girl who worked as an analyst for Wexford, a hedge fund in New York. She was visiting Shanghai only for a week and was originally born here like me. We had an instant connection.  She was a very passionate and intelligent girl. And from the moment we met to the time the gathering dissipated, we talked non stop.

Our topic? the quarter-life crisis. The reference was originally derived from a mid-life crisis, but I believe that times have changed for many of us. There is no mid, there is no quarter, personally, the questioning of purpose and life began as early as middle school.  And if I am correct, will go on til the end of my days. There is no quarter-life crisis, there is no mid-life crisis, there is only crisis. Or better yet, there is only the constant struggle to understand what can not be understood. That’s life.

It was interesting to find that so many more people are beginning to feel the dissonance. As one person began to confess, so too did many others join in. One by one the room fell like dominoes.

The typical Shanghainese weekend for an expat generally concludes inside a quiet coffee shop. Sitting across from you is most likely a stranger you met Friday or Saturday night. Because you probably first met this drifter in a very loud and dimly lit environment such as the local club Muse, this second meeting, over coffee, is really the first opportunity to listen to and observe this stranger.

You probably came to this meeting with excitement and enthusiasm, hoping to meet someone you can really connect with. But you also realize that your track record hasn’t been very good ever since you moved to this city. New relationships form quickly and easily here, especially for an expat. Whether they are locals and foreigners, people want to meet you and connect to you. Bonds are created in the first night, and just as often, broken after the second.

Too many people to meet, too many opportunities to pursue.

So here you sit, sipping another over-priced coffee, smiling, and looking upon her unfamiliar face. You reproduce your life story for this stranger, and are once again, totally and unwittingly, absorbed into the culture of the city around you.