Living in China? What do you do about food safety/pollution?

Just now I opened my latest ZGBriefs China news digest and found: “Rat meat and Chinese food safety” and “20 million taps (and not a drop to drink)”. Right as I sat to down to write this post I also checked my Weixin (微信 – a Chinese social media thing). At the top of my feed was a post about someone encountering “gutter oil” 地沟油 at lunch. Gutter oil comes from the kitchen slop that restaurants dump down the nearest manhole. Some enterprising (desperate?) soul scoops it out and skims off the oil, which he sells to restaurants and street vendors. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Or they drive around at night collecting it in barrels from the restaurants directly (I’ve seen that, too). And these aren’t the worst Chinese food safety examples I can think of; they’re just the ones that happen to be immediately on hand as I write this. This is truly just the muculent tip of a putrescent iceberg.

Why am I bringing this up? I don’t want a blog full of expat whining. But I got this e-mail a few days ago from a couple who’s been in China for three months:

Hello Joel!
[...] I’m living with my husband in a town in the middle of nowhere called Neixiang (Hunan Province) we’d had tons of shocking experiences here… and now we’re mainly concern about what food is safe to eat.

I’m not talking about eating cat or dog, but eating safe and clean. After reading news about food scandals in China we became more and more afraid of buying food on the streets and even at super markets.

If you have time, could you please tell us your experience with Chinese food brands and give us some advice about what brands has more quality standards than others?

How would you answer? If you live or lived in China, what specific things do you do to make your food safer?

Here’s what I replied with (plus some links)…

Other than spending tons of money and eating only imported products, I don’t know if it’s possible to eat safe and clean in China (and outside China, safe and clean is really just an illusion anyway, but that’s another topic). We’re less stringent than a lot of other expats, and I don’t think what we’re doing makes it safe and clean, but at least it’s something.

Fruit & veggies: We wash all our fruit and vegetables really well.

Milk/dairy: Our girls drink/drank imported milk and formula for their first two years. We drink the major domestic brands, but not because we think they’re necessarily safe.

Meat: Some meat vendors in vegetable markets are “certified” (so they claim, usually by displaying posters and/or certificates on the walls). We get our chicken at Metro 麦德龙 (a bulk import store, cheaper than regular import stores), but the beef and pork there is still too expensive. So we’re eating “certified” vegetable market pork and beef while still looking for better options. We also eat less meat than we did in North America.

Packaged/bottled products: We don’t usually buy packaged products like bottles of vinegar or soy milk from the tiny window shops (小卖部) or traditional vegetable markets (菜市场), because things are more likely to be fake. In our first year our teacher pointed out some details of things we’d bought: labels glued on crooked and printed in slightly lower quality, caps were just plugs instead of factory sealed screw caps, etc. Packaged stuff has better chances at a supermarket.

Street food: We don’t eat tons of street food (about once a week for me).

Water: Our drinking water at home comes in big blue bottles, like an office water cooler. At least there’s a chance that it’s better than the tap water (and it tastes way better). During our first week in Qingdao I asked a convenience store owner if we could buy the blue bottles from them. She said we didn’t need them, that we could just drink the tap water. When I balked, she said, well, children shouldn’t drink the tap water, they have to drink bottled water, but for adults it’s fine. We went across the parking lot to the other little convenience store and got the blue bottles.

Air: We didn’t buy an air purifier; they’re prohibitively expensive. We use the China Air Quality Index app to keep track of the pollution levels (though you hardly need it; it’s obvious when the API is over 150), and on really bad days we try to keep our daughters inside. I also googled for pictures of house plants that are supposedly good for the air, and got dozens of a kind in the plant market that looked similar (not scientific, I know, but I like the green anyway, plus they’re cheap). Most importantly as far as air quality is concerned, we left Tianjin (next to Beijing) for Qingdao. Short of building pollution domes over your life like some international schools, you can’t fight the bad air. Your options: wear uncomfortable and expensive high-tech masks, live and work under a (literal) bubble, embrace an early death, or leave. We left. Sort of.

Being in China means choosing to ingest and absorb all kinds garbage. There’s no avoiding it, there’s just lessening it. There’s a joke floating around online that when a Chinese person dies if you flatten their body you’ll get the entire Periodic Table of Elements. Our first year in Tianjin, back before the Olympics when restaurant place settings didn’t come shrink wrapped with your meal, our Chinese teachers would obsessively wipe out every cup, bowl and plate before eating with them. What did they know that we didn’t? So don’t forget to ask (delicately!) your Chinese coworkers, waiban, students, etc. what they do about food safety and pollution. They aren’t unaware.

P.S. - Not exactly the kind of food safety issue we’ve been talking about, but still, this dumpling chef doesn’t mess around:

How to do cross-cultural transitions right: Build a “RAFT”

Moving cross-culturally is a lot of things, but one thing it isn’t is easy. You leave behind siblings, nephews and nieces, parents and grandparents, and friends, plus places and things infused with memories and meaning, like the house where you grew up and park where you proposed.

We did that once, the first time we moved to Asia. After three years we returned to Canada to have our first child, and then we did it again. After another two years in China we returned to Canada a second time for the birth of our second child. And now we’re back in China for the third time.

The return trips to China after each birth were harder than the first time we left. Taking your children away from their grandparents, uncles and aunts and cousins, Sunday school friends (never mind all the grass and trees and oceans and lakes and air) hurts.

You realize more what you’re doing when you’re also doing it to your kid.

There’re others you leave behind, too: coworkers, people you don’t like, people you have a grudge against. And there’s the nasty bonus surprise: returning to your culture of origin (like our friend Rob) after a long time away is often harder than leaving your original home ever was in the first place. Not only are you leaving behind so many friends and places and memories, but “home” has changed since you left, and so have you, and it won’t feel the same. Much of the familiarity you’re expectantly anticipating never materializes. But this post isn’t about entry or re-entry; it’s about leaving.

Regardless of which direction you’re going, the experience of leaving so much behind is huge whether you take the time to acknowledge it or not. And how you leave it can have a big impact on you personal development, on the kind of people you and your lover and your kids are becoming. This experience impacts all of you, and some ways of intentionally navigating the experience are healthier than others.

We received some great advice about how to do cross-cultural transitions before our most recent move back to China, advice we tried out a little bit in the months before we left, and we think it’s worth sharing. I wish we’d put more of it into practice than we did. It’s called “building a R.A.F.T.” and comes from chapter 13 of Third Culture Kids by David C. Pollock and Ruth E. Van Reken (pages 200-204 in our 2001 edition). Below is my summary/paraphrase/riff of what they wrote.

Building a R.A.F.T.

You’ll see quickly that this process takes some forethought and planning ahead; put it off ’til the last two weeks and you’ll likely not have enough opportunities. You’ll also notice that it’s something for every family member to do, not just the adults.

Reconciliation
Closure matters. Festering bitterness matters. Making peace matters. Emotional baggage matters. Guilt and regrets matter. Forgiving and being forgiven matter, and that’s what reconciliation is all about. Reconciliation means growing up. It means attempting to communicate hurts and forgiveness, and initiate apologies.

A cross-cultural move presents a tempting cop-out: to run away and ignore strained or broken relationships. But refusing to resolve interpersonal conflicts sabotages healthy closure, and this lack of reconciliation sabotages the rest of your “RAFT” — the rest of your transition and entry/re-entry experience. You can’t really move away from these kinds of difficulties anyway; you’ll carry the emotional baggage of unresolved problems with you. Bitterness is unhealthy, unresolved relational issues can interfere with new relationships, and if/when you eventually move back, those problems will still be there, and they’ll be even harder to resolve.

A cross-cultural move also provides a great excuse, if you need one, for attempting to make peace: “Hey, I’m leaving for China for who knows how long, and I don’t want to leave a mess between us…” or however you need to do it.

You can’t always achieve reconciliation, of course, because it takes two willing parties. But you can always attempt it, and at least own up to the part of the relationship you’re responsible for. In our recent personal experience we found that the attempt is worth it whether the other side engages or not.

Affirmation
Think through your list of friends, coworkers, supervisors, neighbours, classmates. Do more than just say goodbye. Affirm people; let them know you respect and appreciate them, acknowledge that they matter. This is good for them and for you: it strengthens your relationships into the future and makes you more aware of what you’ve gained from living in the place you’re leaving. Pollock and Van Reken illustrate with some examples:

  • Make time to tell coworkers that you enjoyed working with them.
  • Tell friends how their friendship has been important, and maybe leave them some sort of memento.
  • Send a note and small gift to neighbours, mentioning positive things about your interactions with them.
  • Reassure those close to you of your love for them and that you don’t leave them lightly. Order flowers for the day after you leave.

Affirmation helps with closure by acknowledging the blessings you have in the form of relationships, and mourning their passing.

Farewells
Making farewells to people, places, and possessions helps avoid deep regrets later. Schedule ahead so that you won’t end up missing anyone or anywhere or any thing that was in any way significant, and make a real ‘official’ farewell to each. It’s a time to acknowledge all the positive things and feelings, and acknowledge that it’s sad to leave each person and thing behind.

People - this is crucial, even more so for children, who will need guidance. You want to say and do something, make some sort of gesture like baking cookies or writing a note, that acknowledges the importance of that person to you, expresses thanks, and lets them know they will be missed.

Some sort of “rite of passage” ritual often accompanies major life transitions like graduation or retirement parties. Taking the time to do something similar in spirit creates a significant memory acknowledging the importance of a person or place, and helps face and process the fact that you’re leaving them.

Places - Visit emotionally significant sites to reminisce and say goodbye. Everything from the tree you loved climbing to the park where you got engaged. Some people plant a tree, or hide some little treasure that they could dig up later if they ever return. The point is to openly acknowledge the time as a true goodbye, admitting that the stage of life these places represent will soon be in the past.

Possessions - You have to leave a lot of stuff behind in international moves. Certainly, adults and kids have to learn about letting go, and we all have too much stuff anyway, but everyone should talk over what to take and what to leave behind. It’s also important to deliberately choose and take what become “sacred objects”, a slowly growing collection of physical objects that connect the different places and stages of your life. When important objects must be left behind, try giving them as gifts to a friend and taking photographs. Jessica and I have a Christmas tree ornament (or something we use as one) from most of the significant places in our life together. Every year we can remember.

In addition to all her teachers and ‘aunties’ and ‘uncles’, we had our three-year-old say good-bye to her classrooms, playground, the lake where she swam all summer, places we visited regularly, her bedrooms, toys she was leaving behind, parks we often walked in, and a bunch of other stuff. And we took pictures of it all. This gave us plenty of opportunity to verbalize what was happening then and later after we’d returned to China. It helped all of us put words to the experience and mourn all that we were losing in a healthy way.

Think Destination
During the goodbye process, start shifting gears mentally, reorienting your thinking to the near future: you’re arrival and adjustment in a new place. Think realistically: identify positives and negatives and differences about your destination. List problems you’ll likely encounter. Make a list of your coping resources, both external (finances, support people you can lean on) and internal (your ability and methods of dealing with the stress of change).

Thinking ahead and identifying these things helps make the transition much less rockier than it could be. Forming realistic expectations helps avoid disappointment (from too high expectations) and makes sure you don’t miss out on available resources (due to too low expectations). You aren’t mentally and emotionally leaving so much behind in order to go nowhere; every step away from what you’re leaving can be a step toward what you’re gaining.

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Facebooking in China: SunVPN review [Updated 2x]

[Update 2 -- SunVPN sent a fix less than 48 hours after the 'China problem' - which affected several major VPNs in China - began. And I didn't contact them about it to complain, they sent it out on their own. All I had to do was download an attachment and copy the files to the folder they specified. Simple. And it worked! Friends using different VPN services had to wait longer... one up to a week.]

[UPDATE 1 -- Right as I went to publish this, our previously flawless VPN service stopped working. I suspect it has something to do with this: Chinese Internet Connections Unreliable in Run-Up to Party Congress and Why Using the Internet in China is So Frustrating These Days.]

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As foreigners in China, we automatically have this little problem:

It doesn’t matter if your grandmother wants to see your pictures of her great-granddaughters on Facebook, and the same goes for YouTube. If you want to access those kinds of sites in China, you’ll need a little help in the form of a VPN. Thankfully, you don’t even have to know what “VPN” stands for in order to use them. We’re not all that technologically literate, but the VPN we’re currently on works fine and is simple to use.

Facebook, YouTube and many others weren’t blocked when we first arrived in China, and back then VPNs weren’t that common. But now with tighter internet restrictions, VPNs are becoming standard-issue for expats. We’re probably online less than the average foreigner, but Facebook is where we share our kids’ pictures with family and keep tabs on friends from back home, so access is important.

Over the years in China we’ve used a couple different VPNs to get over the Great Firewall, and right now we’re test-driving SunVPN.

SunVPN

SunVPN installed easily the first time(!) on both our laptops and phones, and works like they said it would. I was surprised how hassle-free it was because I’ve come to expect hassles with this sort of thing. There are multiple servers in multiple countries to choose from, and we only occasionally have to pick a different one when the one we’re trying to use won’t connect or quits working. Either way, there’s plenty of back-up and we’ve never been without a connection.

See the image below for the list of servers. I don’t know what any of that techie stuff means, but I don’t need to. All I do is right-click and choose one that says “fast”, and it works.

Here are their main features and links:

  • VPN service
  • buy VPN
  • China VPN
  • OpenVPN/PPTP VPN available
  • the safest OpenVPN encryption available (256 bit AES)
  • custom OpenVPN/PPTP installer for Windows
  • custom Tunnelblick installer for Mac OS
  • worldwide server network
  • other common VPN features: unblock all Internet restrictions (China, Oman, UAE etc), watch USA/UK TV from abroad, keep safe from Firesheep etc.

P.S. – I did learn, however, that there is one detail in the instructions that must be heeded: when clicking the desktop icon to open the program (after it’s been installed), you can’t double-click it like normal. You have to right-click and then choose “Run as administrator” or “Open as administrator.”

P.P.S. – I’m usually loathe to encourage people to get online more than they already are. If you aren’t on Facbeook and don’t see a specific need, I suggest you just skip it, and spend more of your life having real human contact. I only got on it several years ago to stalk my sister’s sketchy boyfriend, but once all my extended family became users and we moved overseas we’ve been stuck with it.

P.P.P.S. – Apparently even VPNS aren’t invincible. Even as I was going to hit “Publish” on this post, we started having problems connecting for the first time, and did a lot of people using various VPN services: Chinese Internet Connections Unreliable in Run-Up to Party Congress and Why Using the Internet in China is So Frustrating These Days. But SunVPN sent a fix in less than 48 hours that was easy to apply. So we’re back online, despite the ever-tightening Great FireWall of China.

Related Stuff:

How to fix the drain gas problem in your Chinese apartment

We awake in the middle of the night. Not because of a noise. Or a light. It’s a smell. An overpowering, saturating, wrong smell actually woke us up. For the second time! The first time was the night before, which also happened to be the first night in our Chinese apartment. I get up and follow my nose. Turns out sewer fumes are pouring into our living space through the kitchen and bathroom sinks and the shower drain. No U-bends, but plenty of rotten cabbage and leeks.

We’d recently arrived in Tianjin as language students. After looking around and asking our teachers, we’d deliberately picked the most average-looking, average-priced neighbourhood to rent in, thinking (rightly) that this would be a smarter move than living in the foreigner-concentrated, more expensive neighbourhoods (this experience and that apartment is described in Ditching the Laowai Ghetto.) But living in China means living in a Chinese apartment. Each of the neighbours’ apartments we visited employed a different method for combating the drain problem; I remember one just stuffed plastic bags in the top of the pipe when they weren’t having showers. Even our foreign friends living in shiny new developments had the same problem, just not as bad. Two years later we changed apartments but still had the same problem. Here’s how we dealt with it in both locations.

The Sinks
The sinks are the easiest. All you need to do is get under the sinks and jerryrig U-bends. It’s likely you’ve got cheap, flexible plastic hose instead of pipes under there, hose which is so deteriorated that if you bump it it’ll crack, so go buy some more at a hardware store before you mess with it. Bend it into a U-bend shape, maybe hold it in place with rubber bands, and you’re good to go. We did this in both our apartments and had no problems, except that in our second apartment I had to take the entire bathroom sink right off the wall to get at the hose. Still, undoubtedly worth the end result.

The Shower Drain
These things can be a major pain. Our first apartment was a little more old school. The drain pipe actually stuck up exposed with a little moat around it and a metal cap that fit over it like an igloo. The idea is that the bottom/rim of cap will be submerged in water so the gas gets trapped. Even when we wiggled the cap just right so it sat all of two millimeters lower over the pipe, it still never worked. We ended up putting a hot water bottle in a plastic bag that was hung from a wire that we could lift up and hang on a nail when we took a shower. After the shower we’d lower it back over the drain, the idea being that the water-filled bag would seal around the hole. It was better than nothing, but not great, and a pain to clean.

In our second apartment the drain was flush with the smooth tile floor. And, conveniently, there was a spare tile under the sink. So I super-glued a piece of those plastic doorway strips that all the businesses hang in their doorways to keep the dust out to the bottom of the tile, and we just used the squeegee (a Chinese bathroom necessity) to slide it off or back over the drain. Occasionally we’d get gassed out while taking a shower, but other than that this solution worked great. I’ll definitely do it again if faced with the same situation.

Anyway, if you’ve been suffering sewer gas as a result of U-bend-less Chinese plumbing, I hope this helps! And let us know if you have your own success stories.

More stuff about Chinese apartments:

Foreign baby in China essentials: IMPORTED BABY FORMULA

(I told you so!)

If you have an infant in China and you’re using baby formula, then this is for you.

The Problem

After the 2008 melamine milk powder scandal, in which several infants died and hundreds of thousands were harmed by drinking melamine-tainted baby formula, we heard other foreigners multiple times say, “Now’s the best time buy Chinese milk powder — it’s never been safer.” Thankfully, we knew better.

That kind of thinking is what Chinese people call “using foreign thinking to understand China” — in other words: wrong. Now in 2010 it’s all over the news that 170 tons of unsafe milk powder products that were supposed to be destroyed in the wake of the 2008 scandal were simply repackaged and put back on store shelves. Melamine is an industrial chemical used in plastics and adhesives that also creates false, boosted protein readings on quality tests of watered-down milk powder solutions so that they don’t appear diluted. It also causes kidney stones and kidney failure. Despite the very public scandal, people knowingly repackaged and resold a product that they knew was lethal. Silly foreigners; “you laowais can’t understand China.”

It’s not a matter of being overly cynical about the priorities of China’s highest leaders. The system is broken, or rather, it was never designed to protect and empower individuals and the public in the first place (just the opposite; it was designed to empower the rulers at the expense of the people). Even if high-level leaders have good intentions they simply can’t adequately enforce these kinds of policies. In response to a major international scandal in which babies died, hundreds of thousands were harmed and the public was outraged, they executed a dairy farmer and a salesman, shuffled the responsible gov. officials around, and obviously failed to remove 170 tons of the stuff that caused the damage in the first place. (Those ‘disgraced’ officials are now back in same-level or higher positions.)

It borders on irresponsible, in my opinion, to trust the Chinese system more than you have to. Thankfully, when it comes to baby formula, trusting the system is unnecessary.

Breast milk is best, of course, but if you live in China and your baby needs formula, 怎么办

Our Solution

When we need baby formula, we use Táobǎo to get imported name-brand Dutch formula (inspected by our Dutch friends) for the same price or cheaper than what’s on the store shelves in China. No doubt it includes ingredients made in China, but Dutch babies haven’t gotten kidney stones from baby formula yet.

Taobao.com is the cuter, blinkier, Chinese eBay. Some of your Chinese friends or co-workers most likely have accounts. My Chinese co-workers used to shop on Táobǎo all day before the company blocked the site. Get someone to order imported formula for you or open your own account (opening an account requires Chinese and Táobǎo accounts can be complicated, even for locals).

*Special tip: The first time you order from a vendor on Taobao.com, order a small amount so you can check the product closely to see if anything looks suspicious. You can get fake stuff on Taobao just as easily as anywhere else. If it checks out, you’re good to go! The vendor we use is here.

**Warning: This is not foolproof! By ordering off Táobǎo you’re trusting your ability to spot a fake product. Some fakes can be very well done. Be extremely careful. Ordering imported formula from Taobao is no guarantee, it’s just significantly better odds than domestic formula, imo. For a safer and only slightly more expensive option, see the first and fifth comments below.

If anyone has any other baby-formula-in-China advice, please let us know in the comments!

(This is the first in a series; several more are cued up, in no particular order. We have a baby, so as we discover the tricks of the trade in China, we’ll share them here.)

Related:

Other foreign baby in China essentials:

How to: Confuse the traffic in your hometown

It’s rush hour, and I’m crossing the road with my bike, standing there looking at the cars looking at me, all of us wondering why the other isn’t going. I’d stopped in the middle of the crosswalk to wait for the line of cars turning right to finish. I’d assumed they weren’t going to wait for me to finish crossing.

I try to wave the first car through, but he doesn’t go until I look away. But the next car tries to wait for me, too. I look away and wave him through, wondering what the chances are of getting two overly-polite drivers in a row.

They were waiting for me, of course, because I was in the crosswalk and pedestrians have right-of-way. Right of way? For pedestrians? Traffic rules? I thought being in the way gave you right of way. It was so weird to see cars actually voluntarily stop to make way for anything that for a moment I didn’t know what to do. But that’s how it works; I asked my dad when I got home.

In Tianjin if we want the cars to stop for us we just step in front of them and force them to stop, or at least swerve, or adjust their trajectory. But in Surrey, crosswalks are magic!

My autopilot needs to be reprogrammed, apparently.

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How to: Ride a Bike in China (Part 2)

(This is the unedited version of an article from one of Tianjin’s expat magazines this month. It includes some of the bike ownership and safety stuff from Part 1, but also includes new photos and stuff about how Tianjin traffic works, which vehicles to especially fear, and honking with Chinese characteristics.)

Staying Alive and On Your Bike in Tianjin

Avoiding accidents, reducing traffic stress, and deterring bike theft in Tianjin

dscn4473feige.JPGWe’d only been in Tianjin one week when I wrote home to my family in Canada with my first impressions of Tianjin’s traffic:

…widen the roads and intersections while narrowing the field of vision for which taxi and bus drivers feel responsible, reduce the North American-sized personal space bubble to the area occupied by the clothes you’re wearing, and take note that honking the horn apparently absolves the driver of responsibility for all those within earshot. …you never have those awkward ‘Who’s going to go first?’ moments like you get sometimes at four-way stops in Canada when people arrive at the same time and no one wants to appear pushy. In Tianjin, everyone goes first, and whoever’s in the way has right of way.

That may not the best description of Tianjin traffic but it’s an honest first impression. Newly-arrived foreigners are often appalled by the sight of their first major intersection, and surprised when they don’t witness an accident every five minutes. Even veteran expats who are no longer intimidated can still get stressed during rush hour. But I have good news! Tianjin’s traffic is actually not chaos (really). There is a system, it’s easy to get used to, and there are specific things we can do to make our commute safer and more enjoyable. It’s just that Tianjin’s traffic culture is different from what we’re used to, and we often have trouble seeing and understanding it at first glance.

tianjintraffic02.JPG

When we first arrived we were given The Guide to Living in Tianjin, which says, “Believe it or not, there are rules; however, no expat has figured them out yet.” Then it adds (sarcastically?), “Maybe you’ll be the first.” And then to make you feel better it suggests, “A sure bet is to follow the locals; let them be you example, and sometimes your shield.” Do we need shields to ride a bike in Tianjin?!

Metaphors for Tianjin Traffic

Tianijn’s traffic culture (the shared collection of traffic behaviour expectations and assumptions) is different than what many of us grew up with, and explaining it to people who aren’t already used to is a challenge. James Adams has taught English at Tianjin’s Nankai U. for six years, and he offers two helpful descriptions of how bike traffic works here.

bikearmy.JPG

Biking in Tianjin is like… downhill skiing. Stop thinking roads, lanes, lines, and well-defined, rigid rules. Instead, think ski-slopes. If you’ve ever been on a snowy slope, you will have noticed that there are no lane-lines, but there are some basic rules:

  1. Control your speed so you can avoid accidents.
  2. Leave plenty of space when overtaking people, especially children, pregnant ladies, or the elderly.
  3. Those in front have right-of-way.
  4. Worry about what’s in your forward field of vision, not what’s behind you.

Biking in Tianjin is also like… spawning salmon. Think of adult salmon swimming up a river: a steady stream of bodies all moving in the same general direction. They move wherever they can move, taking any option to move in the right direction. There are no lines in the stream, there is only blocked space where one can’t move, and open space where one can. People will advance as far forward as physically possible when trying to cross the road, and that often means waiting inches from the moving stream of cars or in between streams of cars. Before the Olympics, most people didn’t wait at the line.

Some Collected Traffic Wisdom

You want to turn left at a busy intersection but fear for your life; you’ve never seen a disturbed ant nest this big before. Yet using two crosswalks just to turn left is getting too tedious and pathetic. It’s time to employ…

…the #1 Tianjin bike riding tip: follow a local
This is the simplest and safest way to learn when and how to wade into rush hour traffic. That grandma with a basket full of cabbage doesn’t want to get tagged by chūzūchē (出租车: “rent out car” a.k.a. taxi) any more than you do, and she won’t steer you wrong.

Stay in the pack & go with the flow
Like wildebeest on the plains of the Serengeti, there’s safety in numbers. Stay in the pack and go with the flow. It’s the ones who leave the pack that get picked off by lions… or a miànbāochē (面包车: “bread loaf car” a.k.a. Chinese minivan). Average local biking speed is so slow that collisions are easily avoidable and less potentially dangerous when they do happen. Foreigners often bike faster than locals; this saves time but adds risk.

fromjamesimg_1456.JPG

Don’t make sudden moves (but be on the lookout for them!)
Aside from a few obnoxious school kids, slow, straight, predictability is the norm for riding in Tianjin. This lets cars and electric bikers easily anticipate your movement and safely move around you. You can gesture turns by sticking your arm out. But be aware that people will still often make sudden swerves, stops, or dismounts as if they’re the only person in the bike lane! They’re assuming that the person in front has right of way and that it’s the person behind’s responsibility to pay attention and avoid those in front.

Avoid unnecessary stress factors
Foreigners in Tianjin traffic often add to their own irritation in two stress-creating ways: speed and unadjusted expectations. If it’s rush hour and you want to bike faster than everyone else, you’ll likely get irritated at the way people are always in the way. But if you aren’t looking to pass everyone, then almost nobody will be “in the way.”

Pining for home-style traffic will only add to your frustration. Our deep-rooted expectations – that people should move in straight lines with minimal weaving, that they should look behind themselves and signal before turning or changing lanes, that there even is a “lane” and that they should stay in it, and that red lights are like a door slammed shut – are inappropriate here. Don’t trust lines and laws; trust what you see in front of you. Traffic in Tianjin is much more fluid and less rigidly defined by lines.

dscn8952repair.JPG

Honking… with Chinese characteristics
In Canada if someone is honking their horn at you it either means there is imminent danger — you’re about to crash or there’s an emergency — or it means, “Hey! Get out of my #@*!^% way, you #%^*@!” In Tianjin, horns don’t mean they’re frightened or cursing you out. Honking is a regular part of everyday driving. It lets people know, “I’m here!” or “Here I come!” It’s a safety thing, almost a courtesy, like they’re honking so you don’t have to bother checking your blind spot. Usually, a honking car is merely saying, “Don’t move left, I’m coming up to pass you,” or “Edge over a bit, I can’t get by.” They’re not angry.

Vehicles you should especially fear:

  • Black cars with license plates starting in “AV…” or “DV…” These are government officials’ cars, and they drive like the unaccountable big-shots that most of them think they are. Most police are not dumb enough to pull them over for traffic violations, though it happens occasionally. Same goes for military cars, which have white license plates. Both are easy to spot because aside from their special plates, government and military cars are kept conspicuously clean.
  • Dump trucks at night. They’re kept off the roads during the day, and they will make up for lost time in the dark on Tianjin’s poorly lit streets by speeding and blowing through red lights.
  • Long-distance buses. Big, fast, unyielding, and with horns so loud you can feel it in your teeth.

Watch out for open manholes
Manhole covers occasionally go missing; keep an eye out. This especially stinks at night in the dark. Usually someone will stick something (anything, like a branch) in the hole to let people know. Also, the covers are often loose, especially in the winter, so avoid riding over them when you can.

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Anti-theft Techniques: You Need Them

It’s no secret that bike theft is rampant in Tianjin. Most people I know have lost at least one bike, often more. One friend of a friend is on his twelfth. These are the collected theft deterrence techniques of people I know personally:

  • Always lock your bike, even when you’re “just going in for a minute.”
  • Use two locks, one on each tire, so it can’t be wheeled away.
  • Lock your bike to something whenever you can.
  • Make your bike look unique, noticeable, recognizable, or undesirable. I know three people who painted bright yellow striped on their black bikes, like a bumblebee or Stryper, that 1980’s Christian heavy metal band. My wife’s bike has purple splotches of paint all over it. Mine is just old and ugly. Odd-looking or older bikes are harder for thieves to re-sell.
  • Choose your bike carefully. High-quality, name brand bikes like Giant have a higher resale value and are more susceptible to theft.
  • Always park in a guarded parking space, when available. It only costs 5 máo.
  • Don’t get too emotionally attached! I hate to sound cynical, but even if you take all these precautions, your bike could still get stolen. Hold it lightly.

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Special thanks to James Adams, a nine-year China biking veteran and English teacher at Nankai U., for contributing to this article and for first teaching me how to buy and ride a bike in Tianjin.

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