How I met my wife - Episode 2

Admin Building - Shanghai Normal University 

Residence - Shanghai Normal University - On our first morning after our arrival, I was awoken at five in the morning by muzak blaring from loud speaker outside.  I got up to check it out and there, on the lawn, just under my second-floor window, was this old, spindly looking guy engaged in what I could only interpret as slow-motion fight with an invisible opponent.  I would later learn this was Tai Chi.  

Just having arrived from a time-zone on the other side of the world, I was now wide awake so, I wandered outside to investigate.  To my surprise, other members of the group were also outside as well as dozens of elderly Tai Chi practitioners.  I was impressed by spaciousness of the grounds at Shanghai Normal University compared with the very high population density that existed just outside the gates.

The University of Victoria had offered two courses in Shanghai that year.  The first in the spring on the Mandarin language followed by “Education in China” which we were about to begin.  On my walk that morning I met April Katherine who had taken the Mandarin course and could now direct us to the cafeteria where we would be served breakfast.  Katherine was an attractive thirty something who always wore bright red lipstick which, according to Nicola, branded her as a bitter female.  April was an aggressive, white haired, 65 year-old.  

Large windows provided lots of light in the cafeteria where we sat at large round tables picking away at tasteless rice gruel.  I quickly learned to forgo this Chinese staple preferring instead, the more western taste of their sweet buns.  Strong black tea offered a good substitute for my morning coffee.  For breakfast and dinner, beer would be my preferred beverage.  At 25 cents for a half-litre, it was also one of the cheapest. 

Nicola facing camera, Marilyn laughing, and Kim our translator

One of my highlights that day was meeting Mr. Ye, shortish man in his forties, I think, with glasses who always wore shorts, with a button up, short-sleeved shirt, brown socks and brogues.  He was to be the main interpreter for the group who also became a good friend to Nicola and I while we were there. 

Mr. Ye and Eleanor

We were also introduced to Brian and Honore.  Brian had supervised the previous course in Shanghai on Mandarin instruction and Honore would take over with the supervision of the “Education in China” course, the one, we were presently taking.  I got know the two professors better than the other students, partly because I was younger and more like them but also because I purchased a bike.

Me with my bike and Honore's

At that time, the primary means of transportation in Shanghai and other Chinese cities was the bicycle.  I’d read in a guidebook that I could purchase a bike from the Friendship store which sold Chinese products to “foreign guests.”  A special currency, the Yuan was required for purchases made in the store.  The Yuan could only be acquired through the exchange of foreign currency not available to the regular Chinese citizen at the time.  For the Chinese, long waits were required for the purchase of bikes so, once I was finished with the bike, I could sell it at a profit for renminbi, the currency of the local people.

Riding my bike down Nanjing Road in Shanghai was surreal.  Thousands of Chinese riding similar or identical green bikes and me.  Sometimes I would ride with Brian or Honore or Katherine and sometimes with Nicola riding side-saddle on the rear carrier of my bike.  Late one night, as we were walking our bikes across a bridge over Suzhou Creek, Brian asked me if I ever thought I would be riding a bike in Shanghai, China. “Never dreamed of it,” was my reply.  Obviously, I was not alone in my thoughts of the other-worldliness of this experience.

Cyclists in Shanghai, 1991

My addiction to music meant that practically every experience of my life has been accompanied by a soundtrack.  I started with the Astraltune which was among the first portable music players.  It consisted of a tape deck attache to a small power pack all contained within a nylon pack that strapped to my chest.  It was popular among downhill skiers of which I was an enthusiastic participant.  I also used it cycling. I remember listening to the Rolling Stones just as I was about to cross the railway tracks on Edmonton’s high level bridge.  For some reason, I looked up just in time to see a train coming straight for me.  I think of how close I was to getting hit and then, in one of my more mystical moments, I think that I was hit and have since returned.  

In China, I had replaced the Astraltune with a Sony Walkman and I listened to it everywhere, sometimes even in the cafeteria.  This was one of the first of many disagreements I've had with Nicola.  She'd just blown up at a group of ladies for talking about their gastro-intestinal problems while eating their lunch-time meal.  She then removed herself from their company and flounces over to a table inhabited by a bunch of guys from Zimbabwe.  I was sitting off at a table by myself at the time and could have cared less what the ladies had been talking about.  I did suggest that Nicola might have unnecessarily criticized the group for their obsession with stomach problems and she replied that I was ruder for ignoring them.  If that was true, I asked, why did they like me more?  She replied that middle-aged women always like younger men. 

How I met my wife

             I first saw my wife in the Vancouver Airport. She was pretty in her pixie cut and blue pant suit so I was pleasantly surprised when she finally steeled her nerve to approach us.  I thought she was German.  In 1984, English Canadian girls were all into big hair and high waisted jeans and she was different.  She’s still different but not German.  Nicola did not have so favourable impression of me.  Instead of thinking me exotic, she figured me to be 22 years of age and coming from a background of privilege.  I have no idea the source of that conclusion except that my outfit of choice was long shorts and Lacoste golf shirts, a variation of which I wore every day, kind of like Steve Jobs with his black turtle necks and jeans.   

She was wandering around, making circuits through the airport looking for the group with whom I was sitting. We were all teachers who’d signed up for the “Education in China” graduate course being offered out of the University of Victoria.  In 1984, the idea of going to China had really excited me.  Controlled under the mysterious power of the Communist Party, the country had been closed to Western travellers for decades.  Who knew what we would find there?

Although most of the participants were middle aged women, there were a few exceptions.  My wife of course, Aaron who taught Grade 4 in Vanderhoof, B.C. and Don, a thirty something year old guy closely linked to Eleanor, an attractive forty something who really liked loose-fitting cotton print dresses.  I can’t remember hearing him speak. 

            Nicola was seated directly behind me on the first leg of our flight from Vancouver to Tokyo.  Two or three hours into the flight, I became bored so I kneeled on my seat and turned around to introduce myself.  Knowing what she must do for a living, I asked her where she was lived.  She said “Sexsmith” and I asked her where that was.  She replied about 20 kilometres from Grande Prairie.  Being a naïve, big city kind of guy, I asked her why?  Why what? she said and I said, Why would you live there? She told me that it wasn’t so bad.  Besides, that was where her boyfriend lived and I thought, Man, that was direct.  Not knowing where to go with the conversation from there and with no indication that Nicola may have even a casual interest in my life or circumstances, I returned to my book. 

Deplaning in Shanghai

            In Tokyo, our transfer to a China Airways plane destined for Shanghai became interesting when one of our group, Julia, was unable to navigate her way from the waiting area onto the plane.  She had overindulged her access to free alcoholic beverages on the previous flight so Don and I, each under a shoulder carried her while she pretended that her legs were still functioning. Fortunately, we were flying China Airways because any regular airline wouldn’t have let her on.  I don’t think the stewardesses knew what to expect of the Western traveller. 

            In Shanghai, Julia was able navigate the mobile steps that led from the plane down to the runway and from the runway to the airport terminal.  At first I thought the source of the suffocating heat that had hit was like a wall was emanating from the jet engines.  It was like someone had added water to the rocks in a sauna except there was no door from which to exit.  I was disappointed to discover that the heat would follow us right into into the ancient terminal building where we were somewhat relieved by a breeze wafting down from whirling ceiling fans.

            No representative from the university was there to greet us.  In point of fact, we’d yet to see any official from the University of Victoria.  Eleanor had been given us our passports and airline tickets at the Vancouver Airport and I was to discover that she was also a student.  Fortunately, Kim, from our group knew Chinese so she was able to negotiate a couple of taxis to take us to the Shanghai Normal University where we would be staying in residence and receiving instruction.  Everyone piled into the cars except me.  There wasn’t room.  I wasn’t worried.  I figured I’d catch another taxi.  How the hell I’d be able to tell the driver where I supposed to go, I’ll never know because Marilyn, a friend of Kim’s insisted they make for me in their cab. 

             Within minutes of leaving the terminal, the sun dropped from the sky and it was dark.  Common practice in Canada is for cars to turn on their headlights at this time of night, especially when there are no streetlights.  Not in Shanghai.  Not in 1984.  The practice was for the driver to flick on his lights when saw an obstacle in the way and then flick them off once he was past. With every burst of light, we’d see a busy street life flashing in front of our eyes.  People in hammocks.  Women cooking on charcoal braziers.  Families squatting on tiny stools eating dinner.  Men playing mah-jong.  Children playing on the street.  It was too hot to be inside the one room hovels inhabited by most of the people along that road.  No one seemed perturbed sharing the narrow two lane road with our crazy driver and others like him.  Occasionally, a figure would appear directly in front of the wind shield, jump out of the way, rudely gesture at the driver and disappear into the dark of the night.  I never got used to these harrowing night-time drives.    

            The university campus was a profusion of two and three story brick buildings interspersed with large green spaces and a running track where I would race the local lads and sweat profusely.  The dorms were spacious with two students assigned to a room.  Because Don was sharing a room with with Eleanor and Aaron had volunteered to stay behind a day in Vancouver when we discovered the flight had been overbooked, I was placed with a Japanese student of about my age.  He collected oriental instruments that I couldn’t identify so he demonstrated a few.  I didn’t know Japanese and he didn’t know English so our communication was extremely limited.  Nevertheless, I kinda liked him.  When Aaron arrived the following day, he would request that I move in with him.

Aaron became a pretty good roommate. I enjoyed listening to his theories about the Chinese and teaching and Nicola found the difference between our two sides of the room very amusing.  My drawers were stuffed with clothing without an attempt at order.  Empty beer and soft drink bottles were strewn all over my side of the room and dozens of near worthless scrunched and crumpled Renminbi notes were thrown into the top drawer of my desk.  In contract, Aaron’s side of the room was immaculate.  His drawers were organized, extraneous objects removed and no foreign currency stuffed wherever.  That said, he never complained about my pigpen tendencies which was impressive because honestly, it would have annoyed me. 

Nicola in her shorts 

            The bathroom was at the end of the hall and featured a toilet and a giant bathtub which nobody used.  The temperature rarely dropped below 30 degrees at night.  A quick shower was the best solution to the thin layer of sweat that constantly covered our bodies.  Nicola never wore her pant suit again.  Instead she stuck to loose fitting dresses, mostly handmade like nothing I’d seen on my female compatriots back home.  After a couple of weeks, she purchased a pair of Chinese men’s polyester shorts which were unusual but did not make her look Chinese.