Tag: Expats
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Here Be Dragons: Laser Cat Goes to Pudong to Renew Her Visa (Comic Book Edition)
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These Were The People In My Neighbourhood: Notes on Istanbul, Tear Gas, Riot Police, Memory, Identity and Stuff
About four and a half years ago, I left Turkey. I had been living there for six years at that point, mostly in Istanbul. I was both very ready to leave and not at all ready. I spent the next several years feeling quietly sick with grief and regret, snarling irrationally at Shanghai and building…
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I’ll See Myself Out: Notes on That Time I Square Danced to Chinese Punk Music in the Park
Back in the early 1990s, back when I was an untravelled granola crunchy uni student living on an island off the west coast of Canada, I wrote a rather long and rambling term paper on the history of Chinese rock music. At that time, it spanned the vast period between 1985 when Wham! played…
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I’ll See Myself Out: Notes on Stuff, Self, Place and Ridiculously Sudden Life Transitions
I moved most unexpectedly a few months ago, just after my life imploded in Bali. It’s taken me over two months to get all of my things from the old flat. Bit by bit, bag by bag, by taxi and by metro, I’ve hauled my life from the cozy, familiar inner sanctum of the…
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I’ll See Myself Out: Notes on Being a Tired Hermit With Possibly Unrealistic Expectations
I’ve got approximately two months left in Shanghai. After over four years in this city, most of which were spent trying to feel like it was home and trying to convince myself that I was in the right place, doing the right thing, I’m now suddenly feeling small and unexpected pangs of pre-emptive…
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A Totally Impractical Guide to an Out of Body Weekend in Jǐnán
After a few months’ hiatus from my ongoing whirlwind Tour de Chine (the Academic Route), I’m back on the road, hopping trains like a nerdy hobo and wearing butt-shaped grooves into creaky university chairs all over this fine nation. This past weekend, I went to Jǐnán. Have you ever heard of Jǐnán? No? That’s…
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I’ll See Myself Out: Attempting Shanghai Nightlife (for Burnt Out Recluses)
So I’m leaving Shanghai. Sometime in June, I’ll be handing in my Foreign Expert’s Certificate (actually a booklet, just to muddle matters) and sorting through my accumulated detritus to ship things home or to redistribute them amongst the neighbourhood rag-and-bone dudes. [Random note: Modern day tricycle-riding rag-n-bone pickers in Shanghai mainly seem to deal in…
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It’s Beginning to Look Not Even Remotely Like Christmas: Faking Festiveness in Shanghai
Actually I lie. I live in Shanghai (which, if you ask the Shanghairen, is barely even China but rather its own magnificent autonomous kingdom of wealth and awesomeness) and oh, the shiny accoutrements of the festive season are out in a big way. Have you seen the giant tree outside Prada on Nanjing Road West?…
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A Totally Impractical Guide to a Sudden Jaunt to Liuzhou, Guangxi
Over the past decade or two, I’ve become quite adept at rolling with the punches. Most of my jobs have called for finely tuned improvisational skills and I’ve had plenty of opportunities to hone them. The other night, I dreamed that I was told I had ten minutes to prepare a 4 hour intensive workshop…
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Notes on Not Running Away Again: Dealing Sensibly With a Shanghai Winter
It was some time midway through my London years that I found myself huddled in a phone box outside the Lords Cricket Grounds, surrounded on three sides by layers of postcards of hot, horny, available women who wanted to do dirty things to me. It was December, or maybe January. It was freezing outside my…
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You look very terrible, Miss Mary: Unsolicited Advice for the Laowai
I’m still sick. Not sick like last week when I was horizontal and feverish, with my nasal cavity draining like Victoria Falls. No, this week I’m exhausted from working all weekend, sleeping terribly, and breathing in the disconcertingly opaque and smokey air all morning. According to the US consulate’s air quality reading, this afternoon we…
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Dear Language, I Guess I’m Just Not That Into You: Notes on Being the Worst Student Ever
I’ve got a cold and I’m cranky. With my hot, cotton-wool stuffed head expanding outward through my eye sockets and nasal cavity, and my sad little lips fever burnt and ever so slightly frowny, I’m coasting on barely 3 hours of restless sleep. I thought I ought to make that clear before I keep writing.…