A Firsthand Experience of Hiking Mount Tai in Shandong Province, China

One weekend, our group of foreign teachers decided to hop on a bus for a few hours and go hike the famous Mount Tai, or Tai Shan. Mount Tai has been a place of worship for at least 3,000 years and served as one of the most important ceremonial centers of China [Wikipedia].

It’s kind of a rite of passage to say you’ve climbed Mount Tai. Our group started at the bottom and started our way up. It’s not like an American hike with winding trails. The hike to the summit of Mount Tai is stairs. A long, straight, staircase. We started out overzealous and forgot to pace ourselves. It was just a few minutes into the hike up that we were all panting, red in the face, and exhausted. I remember the locals chuckling as they passed by us on the stairs while we were trying to catch our breath. We slowly caught our breath and decided to take it a little slower. One step at a time we climbed our way to the top. Every so often we would pass someone with a small cooler selling water or little Chinese snacks. I remember that the further we went up and the closer we got to the top, the more expensive the water got. I don’t blame them. They had to haul that water all the way there, the deserved more than the person at the bottom, in my opinion.

We climbed and climbed and climbed. There was false summit after false summit. We were convinced we were at the end and we’d get to that “top” stair and realize it just kept going. Exhausted, sore, hungry, and very thirsty, we finally reached the summit after nearly 7 hours of climbing stairs! SEVEN HOURS!

Even to this day, I have no idea how I did that. Anyone who’s ever gone hiking with me knows how much of a miracle this accomplishment truly was for me. We ate some dinner and booked a room in a hostel. All of us stayed in a tiny room with bunk beds.

Mount Tai is known for its sunrises and this is one of the main reasons people make the climb. I later learned that many people actually start the climb in the middle of the night so they can reach the summit just in time for sunrise. So I set my alarm to get up for the sunrise.

It felt like as soon as I closed my eyes the alarm went off and I had no idea where I was. My thigh muscles and calf muscles were screaming at me and I felt like I had been run over by a bus. Determined to see the sunrise, I forced myself out of the top bunk and down the ladder to the cold tile floor. I hurriedly put on some socks and shoes, grabbed my camera, and hustled out the door. It was freezing outside! I wasn’t prepared for the cold. I wasn’t prepared for anything actually. I found a guy who let me rent a huge Mao-era dark green winter coat. He laughed at how silly I looked in it, but I happily wore that thing all morning. I made my way to the spot on the side of the mountain where a crowd was growing to catch a glimpse of the sunrise. The anticipation mounted as I waited for that moment. I’ve never been a hiker or very outdoorsy, but I loved sitting on that small rock on the edge of a huge mountain with a few hundred Chinese people waiting on the sun to make its appearance. It finally peered over the horizon, I raised my camera, and took about two dozen photos. And just like that, the big moment was over. I stood up, went to find my friends, returned my rented coat, and jumped in a gondola to make my way down. This was the first time I realized that if the gondola could take me down, then it could have just as easily taken me up. I took the hard way. But I earned those sore muscles and I earned those epic sunrise photos. I earned the stillness of the pre-dawn anticipation. I earned the memories.

A Chinese City’s First Experience with Western Fast Food

As China changes and grows faster than any country on earth, it’s no surprise that Western fast food brands are opening in big and small towns across the country at breakneck speeds. During my time of living in China, I made some unscientific observations, but I think they are largely true. Here’s my hypothesis based on observation: A city’s growth could be measured by which fast food restaurants were available. These Western chain restaurants usually came in order as the city grew. They would start with KFC, then get a McDonald’s and probably a Subway, and then Starbucks and/or Burger King. Again, this is unscientific. Don’t write me and correct me.

In my first city in China where I lived for about six months, we had none of the above. That should give you an indicator of how small of a town this really was. I haven’t been back there in over a decade, so I’m sure every restaurant from my list above is there and thriving.

After about two or three months of living in China, we heard a rumor through our students that the town’s first fast food restaurant was having their grand opening. It was located right on the main street in “downtown.” This grand opening was going to be on a Saturday and it was all everyone talked about in the days leading up to this big event.

The big day came, so our team of foreigners decided we would make the trip downtown for all the festivities. When we arrived, there was a dense crowd of several hundred people all trying to push their way toward the doors. There were balloon arches over the entrance. There was loud music, people shouting into a microphone, and plenty of security. One of my most vivid memories was being told by a security officer that I couldn’t take photos. He saw my camera and immediately held out his hand and did the international symbol for “don’t do that” by waving at me. I still don’t understand why, but that’s okay.

So, what was this big grand opening? What was all the fuss about? We were there for the grand opening of Dico’s! Dico’s is one of the biggest fast food chains in China. It was started in Chengdu and has thousands of locations across China. Based on my experience that day and then further observation, I learned that a small town will typically get a Chinese fast food brand before bringing in any of the Western brands. That makes all the sense in the world and I was so happy for Dico’s.

We finally made our way through the crowd and ordered some lunch, along with every single resident of the town. It was delicious and did not disappoint. It exceeded every expectation. I told myself I would go there every week to get my Western food fix. I don’t think I ever went back there. I think it was good enough for me to know that I could if I needed it. But anyone who’s lived in a small town in China knows that the local Chinese food is beyond delicious and satisfying. My Western cravings were few and far between. Except for Krispy Kreme. I always wanted a Krispy Kreme to open.

My First Real Chinese Banquet

As a teacher at a university, it’s not uncommon to be invited to banquets for any variety of reasons. It’s also not uncommon to find out about the banquet on the day of. This is exactly what happened early on in my time living in China. It was early afternoon and we got a notice that we were expected to attend a banquet that evening. That wasn’t a big deal to me because I was excited about a new experience and some good food!

My colleagues and I got dressed up in our business casual attire and made our way to the restaurant for the banquet. There are many rules when it comes to formal dining in China. I remember one of the first things I was taught by people more experienced in these events than me was to not sit down when you enter the room. A typical banquet in China involves a large round table with chairs all the way around. There is a fairly specific rhyme and reason to where people sit around that table. So, the best approach as a foreigner is to just walk into the room and awkwardly stand around the table until someone tells you exactly where to sit. That’s no big deal for me, I’m good at being awkward and I love it when people make simple decisions for me - such as where to sit.

We were finally seated at the banquet table and there were so many varieties of spoons and chopsticks that I was immediately lost and confused. But, as any good foreign guest, I just kept an eye on my colleagues who had more experiences and mimicked what they did. The food came out and the colleague next to me leaned over and whispered the best advice I had ever received, “Eat slowly,” he said, “There will be at least a dozen courses of food so you have to pace yourself or you’ll never make it to the end.” That was perfect advice. I would eat a few green beans, a few pieces of chicken, a little beef, and a little of this and a little of that. For the next hour, I simply nibbled my way through the banquet. My colleague was right about pacing myself but wrong about the dozen courses. It must have been two dozen!

I remember distinctly after losing count of the number of courses that had come out, it must have been time for the main course because the servers came to clear our plates and make room for the next big thing. Suddenly, an army of servers came from another room with trays of small clay pots. They placed one pot in front of each person around the table. I peaked inside the pot and couldn’t believe my eyes. There was an entire turtle in there! Shell, head, feet, and all! I followed the behavior of my neighbor and peeled back the shell and began to eat the turtle meet underneath. To my surprise, it was delicious! In hindsight, I feel bad for all those turtles and to see them all around the table is a bit of a shock. But at the time, I couldn’t believe what I was experiencing. It was other-worldly and amazing.

Even today, when people ask me about food or banquet experiences in China, I always tell that story. I had the privilege of attending more banquets than I can remember, but that one will always stand out because it was my first, but also because the food was so extravagant.

Discovering a Rock Band

One thing I always loved about China was exploring. Whether in big cities or small towns, I loved to walk around, get lost, discover new places, and then find my way back home. One of my earliest memories of my time in China was on my first full day in my new city. I had barely unpacked my bags when I decided to go for a walk alone. I didn’t think much about it. I just went for a walk. A couple of hours later when I got my back, my much more experienced colleague asked me where I went and why I was gone so long. He then said, “Did you even have the address of the school so you could get back if you got lost??” I don’t think he was very happy with my solo excursion.

A month or two into my time in China, I decided to go for a walk by myself one afternoon after my Chinese language class. I remember it was a narrow unpaved road with street food vendors lining both sides of the street. Somewhere along that road, probably a quarter of a mile from the school, I slipped into a building that must have had a sign on the door that seemed like it was a cafe. I can’t remember why I walked into that particular building. This is where my memory goes foggy. I must have ordered a coffee and was sitting alone, probably reading a book. A few university-aged students approached me and struck up a conversation in broken English. This was a common occurrence because in that particular city, foreigners were a rare sight. We talked for a few minutes and then they invited me upstairs. I went upstairs and discovered they had a whole room built out as a practice room for their rock band. This was my first glimpse into a new side of China I had not yet experienced. These were students in a rural part of China that’s steeped in rich history and culture, but they had a talent and passion for rock music. I thought this was so cool! I started going back there almost everyday. One day, they asked me to play the drums. They must have assumed that because I’m so young, hip, and cool that I must be a rockstar like them. Even all these years later I hesitate to write how much I embarrassed myself trying to play the drums. But, we laughed and now it’s an amazing memory stuck in my brain.

This is one simple story of the amazing twists, turns, and adventures you can have when living in a new country. It seems so small and inconsequential, but stumbling upon that cafe, making a few random friends, and pretending to make music in their makeshift music studio seems like such a cool moment in time.

China’s Basketball Culture

One of the first things I remember being shocked by when I walked around my new home in China was the culture of basketball among university students. This was an era when there were a few Chinese players in the NBA that students were obsessed with and, of course, they all loved Kobe. Before moving to China, I had no idea that basketball was a popular sport there. Like most people, I probably would have assumed soccer was the top sport. Don’t get me wrong, soccer is extremely popular, but pales in comparison to the popularity of basketball. 

Just a short walk from my apartment was the main outdoor basketball court on the campus. I remember being mesmerized the first time I saw it. It was huge! There must have been ten basketball goals lined down both sides of the massive concrete slab. On most days, when the weather would permit, every court would be full of students, mostly guys, playing basketball together. As with every basketball court in the world, there was the section of players who were good, the section of players who were not very good but still doing their best Kobe impression, and then there was the section of the really terrible players who knew they were terrible but were having fun together regardless. 

One day I mustered up the courage to walk out onto the court to try to figure out the cultural norms for getting into a game. Having played my fair share of pickup basketball in high school and college, I was well aware that the “house rules” change depending on where you are. I had no clue of the house rules. I quickly found out the house rules mattered little. 

As I walked onto the court, probably looking very lost and confused, a group of students called out to me. Based on my brief observation, this was the court for the good players. We played, never kept score, but the competition was great! We played for an hour or so, worked up a good sweat, and I bonded with a couple of the guys.

I remember walking away from the court thinking to myself, “If this is how life in China is going to go, I could live here forever.”

I had been instantly accepted into a group of guys. No one questioned my basketball ability and everyone was just there to have a good time. But, let’s be honest, they were impressed that this skinny white guy could school them on a basketball court! :) 

I went back to that court almost every day. I absolutely loved the culture of basketball among university-aged guys. Those were some of my most fun and carefree days that I’ll always remember.

Learning to Eat Alone

It wasn’t until I returned to America after living in China for a few years that I realized the awkwardness of eating alone. In China, it was a simple normal occurrence. I didn’t think twice about walking into a noodle shop, sitting at a table by myself, and slurping down a big bowl of beef noodle soup. I ate lunches alone. I ate dinners alone. Most of the apartments I lived in weren’t suitable for cooking and, being a typical single guy in my late twenties, I wasn’t exactly a chef. So the only thing I ever made in my apartment was coffee. Looking back on it, I’m fairly certain even the coffee was bad. 

Don’t feel sorry for me. I didn’t eat every meal alone! I would meet friends for meals quite often. Multiple times a week I would find myself around the table with Chinese friends, American friends, and other friends from all over the world. I’ve always been fairly good at meeting people and making friends. So this isn’t a sob story. I enjoyed those meals alone. It never once crossed my mind that I should be sad about it or feel sorry for myself. Eating alone was a simple fact of living in a major city, not having plans on a particular evening, and going out for a quick meal.

Eating alone was sometimes freeing in many ways. I could make my own choice for what I wanted to eat, I could eat as fast or as slow as I wanted, I didn’t have to make conversation, and it was often a relaxing time to think and process anything that had been happening in my life recently.

I didn’t just eat alone. I went to the movies alone, I shopped alone, I walked through parks alone, and many other things. Those times of being by myself created some very fond memories and gave me the confidence to just be with myself and my own thoughts. I sometimes think most people are so afraid of their own thoughts that they fill their days with activities, people, and busyness. In the years that I’ve lived back in America, I know I am also guilty. But when I reflect on my days in China, I know that my mind was clear and my heart was full because of the time I spent with myself.

My First Friendships

Moving to any new place brings with it that undeniable fear that you’ll never make any friends. In the first few days or even weeks, it can feel like you’ll never break through. You go to bed at night wondering if you’ll always eat alone, always feel awkward, and no one will have the joy of truly knowing you. Living in China, there’s always going to be an element of awkwardness and feeling like an outsider. You are an outsider and that’s okay. Even the word they whisper to their friends when you walk down the street can be literally translated as, “outsider.” 

But that doesn’t mean you can’t make friends and find your place. 

In my first month or so of living in my new city, I had met a few people. Some very kind university students took me on a tour of the campus. They showed me a little park where students would hang out. They showed me places to eat just on the other side of the campus walls. They even pointed out a small garden on campus with a walkway through the middle and vines overhead. They said, “Don’t go there at night.” I didn’t ask many questions about that, but based on their sheepish smiles and slight embarrassment, I concluded that the garden is where boyfriends and girlfriends go to have some alone time after dark. So, like a good foreigner in a new place, I avoided the places they told me to avoid. These students were gracious with me and I felt like they were happy I was there, but were we becoming friends? I wasn’t sure. 

Over the next several weeks, we would go for more walks around campus, spend more time together eating noodles together and playing basketball. Before long, I looked around and realized I had friends. I had people who knew me, cared about me, and even took care of me in some ways. There wasn’t a big fan fare to it. It was just an intentional investment of time, making myself available and working hard at conversations that spanned two languages. And that’s how friendships work pretty much anywhere. It’s rarely instantaneous. And it’s rarely without an investment of time and vulnerability. 

I will be forever grateful for those first friendships because when the world seems chaotic and other cultures seem distant, I am reminded that working hard to understand people in a different culture is worth the investment and the awkwardness and the blunders. The world is better that way.

My First Apartment in China

The first city that I lived in was a small town by many standards. I walked everywhere. I walked from my campus to the city center, I toured the tourist attractions (many times), I found shopping streets, hidden restaurants and cafes, and because this was a small town in somewhat rural China, I was often stared at by the locals. It was such a small town, that my colleagues and I went to the grand opening of KFC. If you know anything about the spread of western restaurants in China, then you know that KFC is usually the first to show up as a city starts to grow. Then it’s usually McDonald’s and finally, if you’re really a thriving city, Starbucks. Based on how fast China grows, I’m sure if I were to return to that small town, it wouldn’t be recognizable. 

I have a few fairly vivid memories of my first apartment there. It had two bedrooms and one bathroom. The bedrooms were fairly large with at least a queen size bed, but it could have been a king. There was a desk and a small wardrobe to put my clothes in. The living room was smaller than western living rooms, but large enough to fit a couple of sofas. The kitchen was tiny. I think the only thing I ever made in that kitchen was coffee each morning. The bathroom was probably the most interesting part of the whole situation. It was mostly normal, except we had a strict daily schedule for hot water. We only had hot water for one hour each morning from 7 - 8 a.m. and then for another hour in the evenings, but I don’t remember the time. Needless to say, I had a pretty consistent shower routine.

My favorite part of that first apartment was the sunroom. I don’t think it was intended to be a sunroom. I think it’s just where most Chinese people would hang their laundry to dry. My first cultural taboo moment was turning that room into a sunroom for myself. It was mostly a small “porch” with windows that lined the whole wall looking out onto the courtyard below. The windows weren’t sealed very well, so it was always either hot or cold and very dusty. But I was not deterred. I moved by desk into the sunroom and that’s where I spent most of my time whenever I was home. It felt like an oasis to me. I enjoyed the natural light coming in through the windows and the ability to see and hear people outside. If I were to return to that apartment today, I’m sure it would just be an average, middle-of-the-road apartment; nothing fancy or worth writing home about. But in my mind's eye, there’s something special about that place. It was my first “home” in my new home abroad.

The First Steps

13 years ago I boarded a one-way flight to Beijing with two suitcases and a backpack. Just six months before, I had been in China for the first time in my life, returned to America, and started planning and preparing for this big move. I had signed up for a two and a half year agreement to study Chinese for the first six months and then teach English at a university for two years after that. At the time, there’s no way I could have known all of the adventures, friendships, and life-change that awaited me. 

In this blog, I’m going to take as many posts as I need to dig deep into my memory and tell you as many stories and as many details as I can about my experiences. People closest to me would agree that those years living in a foreign country completely changed the trajectory of my life and my views on humanity, politics, friendships, and nearly everything else. 

My hope is that these posts will be in mostly chronological order so it’s easier to follow along on the journey. Together, as we explore the recesses of my memory, we’re going to meet new friends, explore new places, try to understand new cultures, and (spoiler alert) find my wife along the way. 

I’m looking forward to this journey and, if I’m honest, a little nervous to see what memories and emotions come to the surface. We will all soon find out together.