Reverse Culture Shock

Yesterday I had a meeting with the other new English teachers at my university. We met at the apartment of a returning teacher in the French Concession of Shanghai. Shanghai used to be a colonized city with several districts owned by various European countries. The French Concession is a popular district for ex-pats and being there is not unlike being in America. So after five days of not seeing another meiguoren (American—literally “person from a beautiful country”) and struggling to get a clean meal from street vendors, suddenly there were English and whities everywhere. An apartment in the French Concession can run you US$9,000 a month as opposed to the $150 we plan on spending. We went to lunch at a swanky French deli where my ham and brie sandwich, while very delicious, cost me $7—more than we spent on a week’s worth of groceries the night before. Rather than feeling comfortable and at home in this part of town home to so many foreigners, I felt quite out of place. Here I am trying to have an authentic Chinese experience, struggling with the language and eating mystery meat wrapped in rice buns and calling them hamburgers, while all these other Americans and Europeans who work for Starbucks and IBM and Microsoft are living like kings with all the comforts of home. I guess this is turning into a rant. On the bright side, my Illy espresso that I paid $2 for tasted just like heaven.