Ich Bin Ein Beijinger: The Expat’s Tale

“Ich Bin Ein Beijinger” was a magazine column written by Kaiser Kuo that ran in every issue from October 2001 to October 2011. Kaiser offered one self-proclaimed Beijinger's take on the city that he's come to call home.

April 2008 – He first arrived in China in the spring of ’98 –
An earnest English major from a flat Midwestern state.
He spent two years in Jilin Province teaching ESL
And through those Dongbei winters he learned Mandarin quite well.
He was fond of all his students, he was fond e’en of the worst,
And he grew so fond of baijiu that he’d down it uncoerced.
But two years in the rust belt had done something to his mood,
And he longed for creature comforts, and he longed for Western food.
So in Chunjie of 2000 he rode hard-seat overnight
And emerged from Beijing Station in the early morning light,
He shuffled with his duffel ‘til he crossed the guojieqiao,
And made his way directly to the nearest Maidanglao.
He checked into a cheap hotel, now sated on Big Macs,
And that night went to Sanlitun to drink and to relax.
The next four evenings found him there, carousing in the pubs
And ogling pretty women in the Gongti-area clubs
Reluctantly he went back north to teaching noun and predicate
And drinking sorghum liquor with his roommate from Connecticut.
He knew, though, deep inside that he was bound for something better
And with courage fueled by baijiu penned a resignation letter.
His students, as you might expect,
were sad to see him go,
And one girl with an unrequited crush especially so.
Despite her maudlin pleas he was determined to take wing,
And leave the teaching life to seek his fortune in Beijing.
At first he polished English for a state-run business mag,
While writing freelance features for a local expat rag.
He wrote for travel magazines and did translation too,
And he tried his hand at fiction,
which (he rightly reckoned) blew.
And somewhere ‘long the way
he started smoking Zhongnanhais,
A habit he’d picked up
those late nights drinking with the guys.
His English took on words
not used by ordinary Yanks,
Like “flat” and not “apartment,”
and “cheers” ‘stead of “thanks.”

Eventually he took a job – predictably, PR –
His Mandarin and writing skills
ensured that he’d go far.
In time, he made director of a decent-sized account,
His paycheck, too, amounted
to a decent-sized amount.
From Spartan six-floor walk-up
to some swanky Jianwai digs,
His living space got better as he landed better gigs.
His furnishings improved as well,
though nothing too unique:
That standard blend, Ikea
mixed with Chaowai faux antique
In all these years his good Midwestern values
never faded,
While all around him friends of his
grew dissolute and jaded.
The siren songs of saunas, hair salons and KTVs
Were not enough to overcome his fear of STDs.
That’s not to say he didn’t like the single expat life.
“I’m not a cad, and still,” he thought,
“why settle for one wife?”
But Cupid’s arrow pinned him to a beautiful haigui – A marketing
director with a Wharton MBA.
Today he’s even got himself a proper F.E.P.
(which means “fat expat package”
from a major MNC.)
He even has a driver for his BMW,
Who picks him up each morning
at his opulent bieshu.
His wife is five months pregnant now
with baby number three.
They’ll send their kids to Dulwich, WAB,
or maybe ISB.
Though he’s settled in suburbia,
a happ’ly married dad,
When he thinks back to the early days
he gets a little sad

Some weekends, when the wife and kids
are visiting her mother,
He tells them he has work
he owes some client or another.
He packs some dog-eared textbooks
and he dons a ratty T,
And at English Corner, still remembers
who he used to be.