For those who live or travel regularly to Shanghai, you have been the victim of the city’s wild abandon to prepare for the World Expo – new roads, bridges, tunnels, metro lines, bus lines, bike lanes, stoplights, security cameras … the list of infrastructure and hardware upgrades goes on and on.  Well, now that the Expo is finally here, many of us have been able to take advantage of that infrastructure … I, for one, am quite pleased with the new subway lines, making it much more convenient to get around the city.  However, the 9 squillion visitors a day to the Expo mean that there are just more people riding the subways and driving on the roads so a bit of the allure has rubbed off.

But all of these so-called improvements remind me of an old joke: a city slicker is lost in the countryside; eventually, he happens upon a local walking along the dirt road. The guy asks for directions back to the city and the local makes several unsuccessful attempts to explain the route. Finally, the local gives up and says to the city slicker: “Well, I guess you can’t get there from here.”

Needless to add, the point of this little jest is that there is always a way to get from point A to point B.

But not necessarily so in China. We may be all-too-familiar with the Confucian saying: “A journey of a thousand li begins with a single step.” Which is good advice (provided you know what the heck a li is), but it omits a crucial precondition. There first must be a road to walk on. Put another way, you may know your destination, but finding the path to get there is a whole ‘nuther matter.

Case in point: The Shanghai Pudong airport opened to much fanfare in 1999. Its size, capacity and architectural splendor was (and still is) truly world class. Anyone that calls Shanghai home can be proud of it … and even more so since they completed Terminal 2. What’s more, it was built in record time. However, the highway to the airport took a lot longer to complete. For the first year or two one had to pass through an obstacle course called Pudong, dodging pre-modern horse carts on the way to the post-modern airport. So while the destination was ready and waiting, there wasn’t a decent road to reach it.

Excepting the Maglev train, of course. Another marvelous example of modernity, which, unfortunately, had its own destination issues. True, on arrival at the airport the train seemed a welcome alternative to the long taxi line; one could whizz along at speeds of more than 400 km per hour all the way to Jinqiao, where … you waited in another long line for a taxi to get you home! Now don’t start writing me nasty letters. I am aware that the Maglev has since been connected to the #2 subway line and that getting to downtown from Pudong airport is now a breeze. But note the year: this happened in 2006, roughly six years after the airport opened.

The drive to modernize has had similar results in other areas. In keeping with the WTO provisions, China is opening up new forms of investment for foreign companies, though the process is frustratingly familiar.

Step One: The new rules are announced with much fanfare and praise from global punditry.

Step Two: One year later, the application procedures are announced, again with much fanfare and more punditing from the pundits;

Step Three: One year after that, applications are actually accepted by the government, with very little fanfare (by now the pundits have moved on to touting new developments, see Step One).

As I was saying, this process causes foreigners much rending of hair. Which in my case, I cannot afford because I cannot find my hair. For those of us that value convenience, efficiency and modernity, new forms of investment are useless unless we have means to access them.  Most foreigners (particularly Americans) have acquired the detritus of efficiency: daily planners, PDAs, alarm clocks, etc., all of which calculate time to the nanosecond. As such, a beautiful airport, or a beautiful new business opportunity, are anathema — without a means to reach them.

But before we get too huffy, keep in mind that we were warned of the dangers. Way back in the early 90s, Deng Xiaoping said that development in China would be “like crossing the river by feeling for stones.”

Today, we are standing on the banks of the rushing river we call Chinese Development looking across to the land of riches and eternal happiness on the other side. There are a couple of stones peeking out from the rushing rapids, but they look a bit slippery. So we need to tread carefully. Better still, we should watch while someone else crosses the river before us, to see where he steps. One day, there will be a solid bridge to cross, but in the meantime, many will fall in the water and be swept away.

Be that as it may, it’s silly to think that China should build roads (or bridges) for the convenience of foreigners. Like I said, no one made us any promises and if the existing road takes it toll on you, well, it tolls for all of us. In the meantime, buy a compass and a pair of hip-waders.

On his first trip to China, one of my clients reacted to this country, as most foreigners do, with a mixture of fascination and utter dread. He was overwhelmed by the size of the country and its dynamic (one might say, hyper-dynamic) society. Over dinner one night, he asked me my opinion on the fundamental difference between China and other cultures. Now, I never miss the opportunity to pontificate on any subject, especially one that I don’t understand completely (see any of my previous columns). So I offered him my view: The fundamental difference between China and the rest of the world, I said, is that Chinese people are born entrepreneurs; they have an near manic compulsion to start their own business.

Linguists believe that language is an accurate reflection of what a given culture considers important. For example, the Inuit are said to have 14 different words for snow – and so would you if you were knee-deep in the white stuff for most of your life. [Author’s note: I am from Minnesota, a state in the US where, for a good portion of the year, we, too, are surrounded by snow. However, unlike the Inuit, we do not have 14 words for snow; rather we have over 14 swear words for snow as in “that %$@# *&%$ &^%$# snow is so %$#! deep I cannot get my *&^% *&^$# car out of the *&^% driveway!!”.]

The preceding sentence reveals that Americans attach great cultural importance to the vice of impatience. Indeed, we are a deeply disturbed people, and pity the person (the next guy that cuts me off on the Yannan Expressway) who pushes us beyond our limit, which, quite obviously, is way below the world norm.

But I digress. The Chinese language reflects the entrepreneurial spirit of the people in a variety of ways. For instance, the term “start up”, referring to opening a business, can be expressed, alternately, as: 成立 (cheng li), 建立 (jian li), 开 (kai), 设立 (she li), 办 (ban), 创立 (chuang li), 创办 (chuang ban). There are more ways to express this sentiment, but I have forgotten them. What’s more, I cannot distinguish between the phrases; their subtleties are lost upon a lout like me. But one thing I do know, they all mean: “Let’s make some money!”

Should you remain unconvinced by the linguistic proof of China’s entrepreneurial obsession offered above, well, just step out on into the street. You’ll be instantly bombarded with pitches to purchase just about anything you’ll ever need (and much that you’ll never need). If you happen to be driving and happen to stop at a stoplight (unlikely, I know), then you’ll be assaulted by a dozen guys loaded with all things automotive: newspapers, lighters, phone chargers, steering wheel covers, Shanghai maps (because you look lost) and even world maps (because you really look lost). Now, I’m not saying that the Chinese are the only people with excessive entrepreneurial drive. But they do bring a degree of optimism and can-do spirit to the idea that most others cannot match. Indeed, they sometimes bring too much.

Awhile ago, I was walking through a street market with my kids. Within seconds, we were surrounded by hawkers. Now the interesting feature of street market vendors in China is the aggression with which they pursue their trade.  As you walk by the stalls, they will yell out “HELLO!!” followed by a recitation of what they are selling.  To wit: “Hello DVD!!”, “Hello CD!!”, “Hello T-shirt!!!”.  It can be a bit disconcerting, but one gets used to it … I suppose as one eventually gets used to a root canal or open heart surgery if one has had enough of them.

Anyway, one merchant was touting figurines of a little boy, who, after pouring hot water on his head, tinkles. The hawker shouted at me in the template style: “Hello, Pee-pee boy!”. Many heads turned, I assuming, hoping to see some tall foreigner in Depends fighting valiantly against incontinence problem. The man’s sales tactic might be a tad suspect, but there was no denying his enthusiasm. He knew that I wanted and needed a statuette of a small boy relieving himself. What he didn’t know is that his remark would take on a life of its own. When someone calls for me at home and one of my teenage daughters answers the phone, they have been known to shout: “Hey, Pee-pee Boy … phone!”

Of course, the entrepreneurial spirit exhibits itself in other ways, the notorious gauntlet tactic, for example. This ploy is based on the theory of sales by attrition. Street vendors seems convinced that you will buy from them if they form a gauntlet that you cannot avoid. By the time you reach the forty-seventh guy, you will be so worn down that you will purchase a DVD, CD or fake watch because you are finally convinced that life is not worth living without one.

Westerners believe that China’s low cost labor provides it with a global competitive advantage. While it helps, I believe that it is China’s drive to start new ventures – and to do so with such wild abandon – that presents a greater challenge to other economies.

The Pee-pee Boy tinkling on my desk is proof positive.

So I thought I’d add my two cents … and where else to put in such a paltry amount than on National Public Radio?? Here is a link to a commentary I did that aired on Monday in the U.S.

This ain’t over … there is LOTS more to come.  Stand by for further updates from the front.

Most Americans live with the delusion that we blend in well in foreign cultures. We think that because we come from a melting pot culture we are, by definition and constitution, “multi-cultural” and, therefore, “any-cultural”.  As a card-carrying American (VISA card, I should clarify), I can tell you that this is wrong. While our distant ancestors might have come from somewhere else, the remnants of cultural sensitivity have long left the American cultural gene pool; indeed, they have showered, toweled off and returned home. The truth is most Americans, no matter their ethnic DNA, have regressed. We have adopted the American cultural mean and are therefore easily identified, particularly here in China. We walk tall, talk loud and surgically remove most of the tones from our spoken Chinese.

That said, most Americans are genuinely interested in what makes other cultures different …not that we necessarily respect those differences, but it is sure neat to know what they are. And what they are is very different from us. We are fascinated with the unique ways of foreigners because Americans have a generally-uniform culture. It is spread across 5,000 km of country and we all speak, roughly, the same language (except for members of our former government administration who tended to drop vowels and add syllables when discussing the situation in Eye-rak).

Then again, maybe our interest in other cultures is all a sham, nothing more than an attempt to assuage our collective guilt for foisting fast food and Britney Spears on the rest of the world (being responsible for both “Hit Me Baby One More Time” and a global addiction to trans-fatty acids is enough to make anyone desperate, I suppose). Whatever the reason, Americans are morbidly interested in how other groups of people behave, and how they’ve managed to retain their identities.

So for my American clients and friends that are making their first trip to China, I give them a crash course in “what to do” when they arrive. First, I tell them to present and receive business cards with both hands; secondly, always offer a guest something to drink; and third, if they drive, be sure to drive rapidly on crowded sidewalks, all of which are VERY culturally sensitive. The purpose of such cultural niceties is that it has meaning for both parties. The gesture of respect shown by offering your business card with two hands means a great deal to the Chinese, and at the same time it helps lessens the chance your card will drop on the floor which is definitely not a sign of respect.  The Chinese are quite pragmatic in these things.

My frustration, however, comes when foreigners start using cultural norms from our host country (China) when interacting with each other. For example, when I meet another foreigner and he hands me his card with two hands. C’mon … just get your card to me any way to you can: slide it across the table, flip it, fold it into a million paper cranes and fly it over, I don’t care. I am not Chinese so the two-handed thing means nothing to me and I don’t really need to know that you know how to do it, thank you very much.  Save it for someone for whom it really matters!

Things get really sticky when two foreigners from different cultures interact here, particularly when it comes to greetings. Meeting for the first time is pretty straightforward: smile, shake hands; get over the one-hand / two-hand business card thing and then you are home free. But develop a social relationship and things get hairy, especially between Americans and Europeans.

I think I speak for all Americans when I ask my European friends, in all sincerity: “What’s up with the kissing thing?” You know, that two cheek kind of thing when members of the opposite sex greet each other (or, I guess, when Italians greet ANYONE).  When do you do it? How do you do it (on the left first, on the right)? And it seems to me that no actual contact is made between lip and cheek – its more of an air kiss, is that correct? And am I right in assuming that French kissing, despite the name, is not appropriate when greeting a Gaelic friend? I’m just asking, here.  I don’t want to offend.

Like I said, this is where things get sticky.  For many Americans, the part of me that is “me” begins about 21 inches from my physical body (or 53 cm for the rest of the world that insists on using a system of measurement that actually makes sense). You get inside of that me-space and, unless I know you very well, I feel a bit uncomfortable. Mainly, because I don’t know where those lips have been (and I really don’t want to know so don’t bother explaining). Where I am from … the great state of Minnesota in the U.S.A. we really value our personal space.  Men on one side; women on the other and don’t get too close.  Its like some Amish throw-down.  Its amazing that enough physical contact even takes place in that state enough to keep the reproduction level roughly above that of the Giant Panda (who, for those interested, conceive roughly once every two millennia.  No wonder they are nearly extinct.  Let’s get it on, my furry friends … throw a little Barry White on the hi-fi, fluff up the bamboo leaves and get un-endangered!).

But I digress …

This is the month when many people around the world celebrate Christmas … a holiday that, arguably, has been internationalized mainly because it has been Americanized (and by that I mean “consumerized”).  I would encourage those from other countries to join in the fun and celebrate with all we Americans. I think you will find us open, friendly and on the good side of naïve. But if possible, before greeting us as comrades, please provide a warning. Something like: “Excuse me, clueless American friend, I am going to greet you with a friendly air-kiss. I come in peace. Do not be alarmed or try to defend yourself. And I will go left and you should go right …”

I was in Los Angeles a couple of weeks ago for a conference.  I flew from Shanghai to LAX, landing there at about 11:00 in the morning.  By noon I was on the road in my rental car.  But it wasn’t until about 12:45, driving 70 mph on the 405, when I remembered that, in the U.S., the lines on the road are more than just mere suggestions … you are expected to stay between them and other drivers get upset when you drift aimlessly.  And some of those other drivers are armed and in a very bad mood too!

My inability to cross traffic cultures aside, this raised in my mind an important point about safety in China … and frankly, things are still a bit loose here.  While it is better here in Shanghai than it used to be, cars don’t always stay between the lines, on their side of the street or even off the sidewalk.  If a driver doesn’t know where they are, they stop, wherever they happen to be, to consider their options.  They will stop in the middle of a street, an intersection or even the elevated highway.  They are not thinking about safety … they just don’t want to be lost.  While I admire their commitment to truth and knowledge, if they are not careful, they will soon know very well where they will end up … on a stainless steel table in the morgue!

Pedestrians here will only stop at a crosswalk when there is a traffic cop to shame them into waiting the 12 seconds required for the light to turn.  And if you are on a bicycle, scooter or motorcycle, you can – and will – just go right through any intersection and any light.  Apparently, no traffic rules apply to you and cops, in general, won’t even try to stop you.  Its as if the presence of two wheels under you gives you superpowers of invisibility, Kevlar underwear and a get-out-of-jail-free card.

So when I saw a New York Times article a couple of days ago titled “Salute All Cars, Kids. It’s a Rule in China”, I was intrigued.  In a nutshell, the article tells how Chinese education officials are encouraging children in the countryside to, literally, salute all cars on their walks to and from school … the purpose of which is to get these kids to pay attention to traffic and notice when cars are coming and to stay out of the way.  However, what I thought was going to be an article about improving traffic safety in China turned into a diatribe about the ridiculous edicts that come from the government here and the citizen outrage that often accompanies it.  The journalist cited numerous examples of silly government pronouncements – such as forcing people to purchase local cigarettes and liquor to inflate the state-owned enterprise sales figures – and the fact that ordinary Chinese are fighting back.  Fair enough … its good to see that voices are being raised against government silliness, something we’ve known how to do for a long time in the U.S. (however, we haven’t quite figured out how to actually END the government silliness).

Unfortunately, what gets lost in article, buried at the very end, is that this edict, no matter how silly it may seem, actually seems to be reducing traffic accidents, at least in the mountainous village where the journalist did their interviews.  And that, I think, should be the point … in Shanghai where I live in MORTAL fear of hitting some kid that runs out into traffic, finding some way … ANY way … of teaching kids to respect traffic is OK in my book.

Teaching civil behavior in China has been an issue ever since … well, ever since there was society here.  And China has one of the world’s oldest civilizations so you do the math … but its been awhile. Chinese leaders over the years, from Meng-zi to Mao, have been seen not only as political leaders, but social leaders as well.

The big phrase in China over the past couple of years has been an encouragement from President Hu Jin-tao to work together to create a “he2 xie2 she4 hui4”, a “harmonious society.”  They started it leading up to the Olympics when they expected airplane loads of tourists to descend upon China and the leaders wanted to put on their best face … kind of like when you were a kid and were told to “go wash up, Aunt Marge will be here any minute” and you were dreading that dry, moth-bally kiss and the comments on how big you’d grown and isn’t it cute at how they grow up so fast, but really, can’t you do something about that acne and … well, no need to drag you into my adolescent nightmare.  Let’s just say that the Harmonious Society campaign has gone over about as well here.

So maybe teaching kids to salute cars isn’t so silly after all.  And c’mon, admit it … isn’t EVERY country’s teaching of civil society a bit ridiculous?  Imagine you are sitting in the pitch meeting for the Woodsy the Owl campaign … “OK, J.R., here is how I see it … we don’t want people to throw garbage on the ground, right?  Makes the place look like a dump, right?  OK … so picture this … a grown man, dressed in a cheesy owl costume … and he says ‘Hoo … Hoo … Give a Hoot, Don’t Pollute!’  Huh?  Huh? Is that great or what??”  Yea … I know I am guy of limited taste and erudition, but I don’t think I would have signed off on that one.

I think that China is reaching a tipping point in matters of public safety and I really think that the government should – and CAN – step in and start to move public opinion and behavior.  Private cars are proliferating like bunnies in the dark here, but car seats for children are not and Junior is playing Red Rover between the front and the back seat.  Start putting some pictures at the car dealerships of what happens if Junior goes through the front windshield … guaranteed there will be a lock down pretty fast.  And maybe adults will actually start using their own seatbelts as well instead of just draping them across their laps whenever they drive by a policeman.  Seriously, taxi drivers do this all the time!  And people are still dumping garbage out their windows here.  Sure, there are tons of municipal workers running around with brooms to sweep the streets, but polluting for the sake of fuller employment doesn’t make sense to me.

So I say, bring on the saluting if it helps teach kids to respect a ton of speeding death metal on the road.  Heck, get them to bow, curtsey and say “By your leave, m’lord”, I don’t care!  Just keep them from being human speed bumps!  And bring on the animals teaching moral lessons … in the U.S. we had our Woodsy, Smokey and G’ruff, China should have theirs.  Imagine the pitch meeting for that one, “OK … Wang … here’s how I see it.  We want to get people to stop throwing garbage on the ground … so let’s dress up some guy in a cheesy panda costume and have him say, ‘Polluters should be nearly extinct … like me!’  Huh?  Huh??  Is that great or what???”

Yea … maybe I will just stick to Podcasting.

Thanks again for listening … remember our motto: “In China, everything is possible but nothing is easy.”  We’ll see you next time on the China Business Podcast.

I woke up this morning with two words running through my head: “Reality TV”.  Kind of a scary thought, huh?  But what got me thinking about Reality TV is not the content, per se, but the business model: find a bunch of people, average schlubs, and film them acting as such; edit the content to highlight the schlub-iest moments and then put it on prime time television. Violà… instant ratings. Like all great ideas, I am kicking myself that I did not think of it first. Why, you might ask, should I consider myself so forward-looking as to think I should/could come up with that idea? Well, because what they call “Reality Television” I call “the average day in China.”

China is a country of “watchers”: people sitting around and simply studying other people being…well…people!?! One of the things that foreigners have to get used to here is what we would call “staring” … many here would call, simply, “observing the behavior of those around them.”  I suppose that makes sense … there are so many people there that free content is always available.  Several decades ago, just being a foreigner in China attracted attention. Go to the market, let a couple of Chinese words slip out of your mouth and you gained such a crowd on interested onlookers that you could put up a tent and charge admission.

Now, certainly, things have changed over the years.  But many years ago, I was a spectacle, even in a big city like Shanghai where foreigners were not very common.  I once asked a Chinese friend why everyone stared at me and he said, “Well, for thousands of years, all we’ve had to look at is other people who look like us … you are REALLY different, so we want to have a look!”  That was tough to argue with, I must admit.

So I have spent countless hours entertaining local residents here over the years. I should have had an agent negotiate a contract for me, thusly: “Mr. Kedl is willing to shop for vegetables every Tuesday and Thursday and to mispronounce a minimum of 17 Chinese words while doing so. The neighborhood will provide no less than 83 gawkers, at least 11 of whom will attempt to help Mr. Kedl negotiate the transaction and another 6 will comment on the proceedings. Mr. Kedl will receive 10% of the front end and two points on the gross plus all residuals on local TV news footage.”

Not much has changed over the years in terms of the spectacle I create when shopping. The modern hypermarket has made for some great leaps in shopping convenience: too many choices are jammed into too little space at too high prices and NO room to negotiate. The beauty about shopping in China is that total strangers will feel very free to look into your cart and check out what you are buying. Many of them will feel even freer to comment on your purchases, particularly if they don’t think you can speak Chinese: “Hmmm….look at that foreigner…what in the world would he need with a toaster oven, a pile of hangers and three apples?? And he should get himself a real nose instead of that two-car garage he has holding up his glasses now!”

I was at my local hypermarket recently when one elderly lady tried to convince me – in animated sign language reminiscent of Helen Keller doing liturgical dance – that the milk I was purchasing was NOT the right milk and that, if I bought the one she was buying, I could get 2-for-1. I explained to her that my kids preferred this type of milk, but thanks for the advice. She walked away a bit confused, mumbling to her shopping companion “Why in the world wouldn’t he by the cheapest kind…and it almost sounded like he spoke Chinese!!”

But having a foreigner as the center of attraction is not necessary. Almost any activity on the street will garner attention from passers-by. The other day a motorcycle cop stopped a guy on a bicycle carrying a load (looked like three sofas and a cage of ducks). The cop dismounted his bike, sauntered over, Ponch-style, to the offending cyclist and stared at him. Immediately, a gaggle of pedestrians gathered around the two of them to see what would happen next. Not able to resist peer pressure, I joined the throng (it felt good to be the gawker as opposed to the gawkee). And you know what happened? The biker got a ticket.

The crowd went away happy, but I was left unfulfilled. No fight broke out. No blood was spilled. No threat levels went to Orange. A TV news anchor didn’t show up with his helmet of hair and don’t-believe-me-at-your-peril voice to intone, over a dramatic graphic sequence, What It All Means and Why You Should Be Very, Very Afraid. The dude just…got a ticket.

The West is trying to convince China that they need to change, to upgrade themselves to the “modern world”. Personally, I think China is doing OK, for the most part. However, if I were to be honest, I think China could add a bit more excitement to what is, essentially, a reality show here.  I mean, if all of life is open for others to sit around and stare at, you should really go for it …you know, punch it up a bit, get better ratings and maybe raise ad rates. Cops shouldn’t just give someone a ticket: apply a little OJ and first have a slow-motion chase through downtown (actually, it would be slow-motion here in Shanghai because you’d never get over crawling speed through the traffic). An overloaded vehicle tips on the highway? Splash around some fake blood and have five people go at it, Jerry Springer style. Over-crowding on the subways could be solved if we could all vote someone off every stop (my choice would be the guy with the scary comb-over taking up two seats) or the guy who keeps losing his mobile phone signal and keeps shouting “Wei?  Wei?” into his dead phone.

But I think the ultimate Reality Show here would be to demonstrate just how helpless some foreigners are here.  We could put a collection of them in a row house off Chang Le Lu, give them only CCTV, no access to DVDs or any restaurant that ends in “on the Bund”, take away their Ayis, drivers and secretaries and see who lasts the longest. Guaranteed to make Survivor look like summer camp for sissies.

Those of you who are regular consumers of this Podcast and associated blog may have noticed that I have been unusually quiet as of late. In fact, I’ve gotten email messages asking if I was alright. Was I sick? Did I break my fingers or lose my voice, rendering me technologically mute? Did the global economic tsunami finally reach the heretofore protected shores of China and was I, too, scrambling for an employment life-ring of support in my middle age? Nope. Although things were slower in the first part of this year, business is going great – everyone is interested in growing in China, the only place FOR growth these days, it seems.

No, the reason for my silence is much more simple, and yet more sinister. I don’t have anything to say! I sit down to write. I stare at the blank page, my mind empty as an honest man’s wallet. After nearly 25 years writing about one American’s life abroad, I’m out of ideas. I am all talked out (and blogged out and Podcasted out!). For someone who, as a child, thought his name was “For-the-love-of-all-that-is-holy-would-you-please-shut-up,” speechlessness is an altogether alien state.

Writer’s block happens, I suppose, but it happens to other people, those with less interesting lives. For instance, accountants hunched over the books under the glare of fluorescent lights – hydroponic humans in cubicle farms. What are they going to write… “Dear diary: today I struggled valiantly with that last entry until the T-account balanced, perched precariously on profit’s knife edge…?” I can imagine florists would have a tough time drumming up passion in their writing: “Dear diary, today I sold flowers. Just like yesterday. And probably tomorrow.”

This I can understand. But I am writing from Shanghai, the refurbished Pearl of the Orient, a city with 23 million people all doing things my mother told me never to do: crossing against the light, slurping their noodles, eating with sticks, fricasseeing the family pet. You’d think I could find something interesting to write about.

I wrack my brain, searching through the last month of my calendar. Surely something has happened that is worthy of comment. Some “ah-ha!” Some something that no one has noticed before. Suddenly, I have it, a golden nugget around which I can weave a perfect pearl of wise insight. I will blog about the traffic! Something odd is always happening in Shanghai traffic. I look out my window. Sure enough, drivers are playing their horns like a Swiss bell choir and are power-merging like Stevie Wonder in a demolition derby. But on second thought, this seems a bit lame. The traffic situation is no different today than it was last year and in fact it seems to work just fine, albeit with a few more fender benders. “Nothing to report here, Skip…back to you in the studio.”

Return to the calendar. Maybe I can write about something stupid I’ve done recently. Certainly I have pulled a bonehead move in the last month that I can write about … that seems to be a never ending stream of content. I must have committed a cultural gaffe. Messed up my Chinese tones and called my mother a horse, something like that. Yeah? So what? Everyone I know is already familiar with that scenario, though my Chinese friends and colleagues are far too graceful to point out my mistakes.

Yesterday I was sitting at a Starbuck’s on Huaihai Road in Shanghai, waiting for a client and trying to dredge up an idea for the Podcast…any idea…and it hit me: I am in a STARBUCKS on HUAIHAI LU trying to come up with something to say about a foreigner’s so-called crazy life in Shanghai! How crazy can it be…is the foam on my latte too frothy? Am I forced to use refined instead of raw sugar? Oh horrors, the swirl on my caramel Frappacio goes to the left and not the right??? However, this sort of middle-aged rant against the middle class in the Middle Kingdom might be considered the Grunge music of the new millennium; after all, those with nothing really to complain about favor a public forum. And I am already having trouble with middle age. Or at least my expanding middle in middle age … no one needs to hear about that.

So that’s it then: it’s not me, it’s China… China’s gone mainstream. We used to have to bring pizza in from Hong Kong and now we get it delivered from around the corner. Biking down to the Telecommunications Bureau to register an international phone call and waiting three days to actually place that call was ink-worthy in the 80s. Today? I miss a call from the States because I out was taking pictures, SMS-ing and playing music on my iPhone until the battery died.

So that’s my headline then: China is Not Interesting Any More. Officially hum-drum, day-to-day, not unique in any noticeable fashion. It’s not me, it is my subject: Shanghai, the Fargo of the Far East. “Move along, there is nothing to see here… go about your business.” How reassuring. I feared I was losing my edge.
Confidence recently restored, I then experience an epiphany. My client arrives, the president of a billion dollar multinational, he is barely 24 hours into his first visit to China. This is a guy who has seen everything, done everything… spent more money last week than most of us will see in a lifetime and will probably lose it just as effortlessly next week. His passport has more stamps than a Philatelic Society swap-meet. His is a Gold frequent flyer on five airlines and rates “Super Mother Bad Platinum” on two more. This dude has been around.

So he comes into Starbucks, sees me and nearly RUNS across the room. He drops into the chair across from me, breathless and wide-eyed, having just arrived in a taxi from the airport and his usual executive demeanor is displaced. “What is it with this place?” he whisper-screams, “I nearly lost my lunch five times on the ride over here…and these buildings…and the language…and…and… is this Starbuck’s!? I have no idea what to think about this place…it’s, it’s FANTASTIC! Where have I been all my life?!?!”

We proceed to talk about the work we are doing for his company and some of the growth opportunities we have identified. There are some very exciting things happening here in his industry. At headquarters, he is trying to deal with the rug getting pulled out from under him by the current state of the economy; here he is losing himself in the lush shag of the rug that has stayed put. He is petrified by what he sees here but he is intrigued as well. China, so ugly its cute. The Orangutan of global business.

A minute ago, I was thinking that I’d seen everything here. And now I meet a guy who literally HAS seen everything, and he says that China is making him think that he has seen nothing. And I have it, my new headline: “Big Pale Writer Thinks He Knows Everything About China: Film and Self-Criticism at 11.”
Note to self: my blasé attitude and road worn demeanor is not about China being boring. Far from it. It’s just me being me.

Thanks again for listening … and remember our motto “In China, everything is possible but nothing is easy.” We’ll see you next time on the China Business Podcast.

But, like many things in the global economy, the China auto industry is still coming along OK.  GM just upped their forecast for sales for this year (not that this will reduce the more-gruel-sir handout they are getting from the U.S. government).  In fact, China’s vehicle sales accelerated 25 percent in February, reversing from a 14-percent drop a month earlier, as demand for small cars surged after the government launched stimulus measures.  It is reported that was the first year-on-year gain since last October when the financial crisis began to take its toll.

It was also just announced that China’s second largest auto firm – inappropriately named “First Auto Works” or FAW – is working with a Mexican group to build China-designed cars for the North American market.  After Chery and Chrysler pulled back from their sales agreement, this could be the biggest chance for a China auto group to penetrate the U.S. market.  China is also being lauded as the next place for auto innovation as Chery is developing their new battery powered car.   Several years ago Chinese designers were winning the Yugo Award for Crappy Auto Design and now they are ripping up Motown.  Go figure.

This is all well and good.  But have any of these journalists actually DRIVEN on Chinese roads lately and seen how cars are used?  I mean, c’mon!  China has over 100 car manufacturers churning out ever more makes and models of cars and its tough to tell your QQ from your Spark these days (Hint: look for the annoying logo of the hydrocephalic penguin to find the QQ).  In the pre-consolidation dawn of the China auto industry, there are going to be some winners and losers, so instead of using brand names to identify cars – brands which may or may not be around in a few years – I like to identify cars on China’s roads by their function – how they are actually used by their drivers.  I have come up with several types:

The In-Santana-ty: these are typically ancient model VW Santana cars, often purchased used and driven by individuals who have NO business operating any road vehicle, let alone a car.  You can trust these vehicles to be weaving between lanes, braking for no apparent reason and stopping in the middle of the street.  These cars typically have major dents on them as living proof of the driver’s lack of skills.  When one encounters such a vehicle, give it wide berth because, sure as they don’t wash their car, they don’t give a rat’s hind end about yours either.

The next type is what I call the Speed Bump and it refers to any of the mini-sized vehicles on the road in China, so easily trampled underneath the treads of other cars.  The leader of these is the QQ – of the aforementioned penguin brand – and they look like Matchbox cars on the road compared to real sedans.  These things cost something like $49.95 plus tax and I think you can buy them in a gumball machine, packaged in a plastic bubble [I always get the cheap plastic ring when I try, but I am just an unlucky person].  Speed Bumps are often manual transmission and are powered by an engine measured in hamster- (not horse-) power.  I think they even squeak when you squeeze them.  In developed nations these engines power riding lawnmowers in the suburbs, hauling around overweight, middle-aged men in shorts, black socks and sandals.  Here they haul extended families of seven with one child and a nephew in the glove compartment.

A third type are those owned by young parents who liberally affix “Baby On-Board” stickers to their rear bumpers … and then refuse to use car seats to strap in said precious cargo.  Many is the time that I see a parent driving and a 3 year old child running laps in the back seat, occasionally dong the Fossbury Flop over the front passenger headrest to land in the lap of the other over-indulgent parent riding shotgun.  Just imagine the horrendous results of an accident … the kid will be bouncing around the car’s interior like a ping-pong ball in a Lotto draw.  I call these cars, sadly, a Baby Rattle.

So yes, let us now praise the China auto industry.  It is on life support and yet is the clear global winner in the Global Automotive Zombie-fest. But let’s also admit that, for every cool new battery powered car being developed in China, there are 3 million people driving backwards down the freeway because they missed their exit.

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Of course, I could take the easy way out and reply that China is great because of its “long and storied history” or that its “modern dynamism is unparalleled in the world.” But that would be like saying Hunter S. Thomson was a “good” writer.

China (and the good doctor) deserves more. I have come up with a list. A definitive list.

The Top 20 Reasons to Love China:
(with apologies to talk show hosts and their lawyers)

1. China is the only place on earth where you can see a man pedaling a bicycle loaded with two butchered pigs, a living room sofa and two family members. And he is not even breathing hard.
2. The Chinese word for “mother” and the word for “horse” are separated by just one tone, leaving open a world of possible insults for the sloppy student of the language.
3. A black GM sedan is the coolest car on the road…this IS your father’s Oldsmobile!
4. You are acclaimed a “China Expert” by local acquaintances the minute you come close to properly pronouncing ni hao and know the meaning of the word guanxi.
5. At the same time, these same Chinese acquaintances will correct your mispronounciation of ever other Chinese word, which will fill you with a sense of belonging, knowing as you do that they now feel comfortable enough to tell you what they really think.
6. When someone asks you whether they drive on the right or the left side of the road in China, you can truthfully answer: “both.”
7. Reading an EKG report is easier than deciphering Chinese calligraphy, even for many locals.
8. It is not impolite to slurp your noodles, ask someone’s age or how much money they make. Eat your heart out, Ms. Manners.
9. You can buy a Spongebob Squarepants doll while visiting the Great Wall, thereby gaining an immediate understanding of the clash of civilizations without having to read Samuel P. Huntington.
10. One’s heart rate after crossing the street on foot is roughly equivalent to a 20 minute Stairmaster workout.
11. The answer given to me by a Shanghai native when I asked how he knew if a Chinese sign should be read left to right or right to left: “I read it one way. If it doesn’t make any sense I read it the other way.”
12. The look on the face of a foreigner at his first formal banquet when he receives an answer to the question, “What is this I am eating?”
13. Dogs here understand commands in Chinese better than I do.
14. The always empty Rolex brand store 200 meters from Xiangyang market.
15. Fortune cookies are NOT a Chinese invention; spaghetti is.
16. Not only can you turn right on a red light, you can do so without stopping.
17. Even though China’s per capita GDP is one-twentieth that of the US, Starbucks charges the same price for a cup of coffee in China as they do in the States.
18. The taxi sign reminding you to take everything with you, the English translation of which reads: “Don’t forget to hold your thing.”
19. A coupon to the local go-kart track, good for “One free ride” and “One free beer” at the bar, which stipulates that the beer must be consumed before taking the free ride.
20. You get to eat with sticks.

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Dear faithful reader [Kent has sent his monthly "that's Shanghai" magazine columns to a list of several hundred e-mail subscribers, but that came to a halt recently]:

Sorry it has been awhile since you’ve heard from me as we have been distributing my monthly column from “that’s Shanghai” magazine.

But there is a reason for my silence. I am not quite sure how to say this … so I will just say it. I was fired. Well, maybe “fired” is too strong a word. Let’s say I was “given a firm talking to by the authorities and then summarily ignored.” In a Chinese context, that is being fired.

I started writing for “that’s Shanghai” in 2005 when the magazine was just exiting from a nasty battle between the publishers and the former owners. There was a new managing editor — I will call him “Ian” — and he was looking for something to spark up the magazine. Someone sent Ian some of my musings and he called me. Ian is classic Dubliner Irish and has lived a long and hard life here in China — so when he called, I thought it was the Lucky Charms leprechaun channeling Tom Waits.

“I read yer articles, lad,” he said to me. “Not bad. Want a job?” When I told him I already had a job but that I would love to write for him he said, “Whatever … just don’t go over 800 words. What country you say you were from? American? Well, then really don’t go over 800 words!”

Over the ensuing months and years, Ian would prove to be my toughest editor and biggest fan. Every month he would call me: “We got a problem with the censors this month, lad,” he’d say. “They say yer being too sarcastic. I told them ‘of course he’s sarcastic … he’s a fackin’ American! What else could he be?’ I hope you don’t mind.”

No, I did not mind in the least. Ian had one of the toughest jobs known to foreigners here, trying to ride the jagged edge between being interesting enough for people to read and yet politically correct for the State-controlled media. He was immensely successful and remains, to this day, one of my personal heroes.

However, the closer we got to the Olympics, the more pressure Ian was getting to dial back the tone of the magazine, to be more “supportive” of China and less critical. My article, on the back page of the magazine, was a key culprit and Ian caught all sorts of flack for it. The censors — the State-owned entity that controlled the publishing license — were on his case to talk to me. When that did not happen, they insisted that he set up a meeting between them and me. Ian held off as long as he could. “Sorry, lad … but would you mind meeting with these chaps? They’re on my arse about it.”

I said, “no problem” and was actually looking forward to it. It is not everyone that gets hauled in to the Great Principal Publisher’s office. I thought that, at least it would make great content for a new article!

I met with their chief rep, a very nice guy who had actually studied and worked in Australia for a bit. He was oily-smooth, just as I had imagined a publisher would be. “Kent,” he said, “Let me start off by saying that your article is just what we want our magazine to be. It is smart, funny, articulate, to the point. Great writing. Just great. It is the first column everyone around here reads every month. We love it!”

I nodded and smiled … and waited, because I knew it was coming. The Chinese word “dan shi.” Dan shi means “but” or “however” in Chinese and it signals a radical turn is ahead — “I have been telling you all of these nice things, dan shi, I am going to give you the real story. And it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

“Dan shi …” he said. “There is a bit of a problem. You see, you are being very sarcastic in your articles by pointing out the behavior of the Chinese people. That is causing a problem.”

“I see,” I said, “but don’t you also see that, when I point out people’s behavior here, I also point to the even-more-ridiculous behavior of foreigners. My conclusion is usually that all these people are behaving this way and don’t have a problem with it — therefore, it is not them that is wrong, but ME!”

“Yes,” he said, “I see that. But still. You are pointing out behavior and that is not good. As you know, all media in China is approved by the government. And if this is published, it is like the government approving these things. And that is not possible. Kent, let me tell you this: You are becoming too famous in Beijing.”

And it was that last statement that froze me in my tracks. The very last thing anyone wants to do here is to become well known for anything! Chinese phrases are rife with warnings: the tallest tree in the forest gets blown down first; the highest nail gets hit. To be famous here is not good.

So I crumbled. I said yes, he was right. I should dial it back. I should not be so sarcastic. I should be nicer. We continued for some minutes as he emphasized that I was not in trouble at all, but that this was just a friendly conversation. I got up to leave, shook his hand, promised to do better and walked out, my knees still shaking from this “friendly conversation.”

But then and there I knew it was over. One only gets hauled before the court here if one is guilty. Judgment had been brought and sealed by my agreement to attend the meeting. I went home and wrote my new column — trying hard to behave myself, knowing all the time that it would never be published. It was, of course, rejected. Completely. “Too sarcastic,” they said.

So it is time to close this chapter and go look for another one. However, I wanted to at least get this out because, although the style is different and “nicer” than what I usually am, I mean every word of it. Here it is…

Dear Chinese Citizen,

Hi. How are things? Its been awhile since I wrote. Been busy. Living in your country is a full time job. I don’t know how you handle it with such grace.

Anyway, I thought it was time to write and say “thanks” for letting me live here. I know I complain a lot. Sorry for that. I am trying to become a better person but don’t have much to work with in the way of raw materials. My elementary school teachers said the same thing.

You have an amazing country. Honestly, I am into my third decade here and not a day goes by when I don’t sit back and think about something new I saw that day. Try to find that anywhere else. I know the rest of the world is impressed by the big stuff — the Great Wall, tall buildings, new Olympic sports venues — and well they should be. But I am more impressed by the little things I see every day.

For instance, your road construction workers. Do they have no fear? Americans are proud of our astronauts having the Right Stuff…but to face immanent death the way your DMV gauchos do every day? Wow. These men and women live lives of Tao-like calm amidst chaos, like a duck in a shooting gallery. And what do you make those orange vests out of? Must be Kryptonite, the way cars seem to avoid them.

Then there are your inventions. I know you are more famous for your gunpowder, paper and kites (and make full and ostentatious use of them around Spring Festival) but I am more impressed by some of your modern creations. I was in a park the other day and saw a wedding photographer with several groups of newlyweds. He had a wedding dress with a quick-release zipper in the back…strap it on one bride, snap some pics and then move it to the next. Beauty and efficiency, all in one package. Very cool! With the high divorce rate in the U.S. we could benefit from one of those. Here is a business tip: set up your first distributor in Las Vegas.

And how about that horn you have on official vehicles? Who came up with that sound? Ah-oo-ga!! It’s like a nine foot tall goose with adenoidal blockage or a T-Rex with intestinal gas. Clears traffic like a flatulent T-Rex would too. Kudos to your sound engineers for that one.

I know I gripe a lot by how crowded it is here, but it doesn’t seem to faze you. To those of us of Caucasian-European heritage, our body size and sense of personal space are directly proportional and we do not take kindly to being touched, bumped or grazed (our ratio in swimsuits is, on the other hand, indirect – the larger the belly, the smaller the Speedo). A room is crowded in the U.S. when you can reach out and touch your nearest neighbor; in Shanghai, I could have three people living in my back pocket and still feel there is room to expand. The morning subway here looks like a shuttle bus for the Siamese Twin Convention, but no one gets upset. Incredible. In the U.S. there would be three lawsuits per subway car by the end of rush hour.

I am also amazed by what good travelers you are. The quality of a person’s character can be clearly seen in their response to the inevitable delays that plague every plane, train and bus terminal around the world. When a flight is delayed in my home country, the chorus of complaints sounds like extras rehearsing “Mutiny in the Bounty.” But in China, a delay just means there is more time for another bag of sunflower seeds, a longer nap stretched out on your carry-ons or another hand of cards. By the way, thanks to that group in Beijing late last year that included me in their game — remind me again, are face cards high or low?

I have always been impressed with your food history, one of the greatest in the world. However, you are not food snobs — your ability to tackle a gourmet restaurant meal and airplane food with equal relish is astounding. Are your taste buds on a toggle switch?

Finally, I want to thank you for the grace you have shown me, a foreigner, living in your country and butchering your language. In the U.S. we legislate that English — American English — is the “legal” language and criticize anyone who speaks anything else, as if being multilingual is the same as being polygamous. But here, you are very excited every time someone makes a lame attempt at speaking your language, and most of us are pretty lame. A big 谢谢 for that (or, as most foreigners pronounce it, “shay-shay”!)

So thanks for all of this. I promise to tone down the whining and keep my eyes open for all the good stuff.

Sincerely, Kent

P.S. If you could hook me up with one of those T-Rex horns, I’d appreciate it…these morning commutes are killers!

So that’s it. My final column. A column that was never a column. For now, I am going to keep these musings going through the podcast and blog we do for our company — its called (creatively) The China Business Blog and Podcast. The link is at the top of the page and I would encourage you to sign up for it to receive them every week.

Thanks to all who wrote words of encouragement and appreciation for the articles over the year. I love this place and I love sharing it with others. Writing this stuff is the cheapest form of therapy I know. And goodness knows, I need a lot of it.

Today’s podcast is another light-hearted one, based on a humorous society-and-culture column Kent Kedl wrote for “that’s Shanghai” magazine, an English-language publication in China.

This podcast features Kent expounding on patience (or a lack thereof) in China. A wise man once told Kent, in his early days in China, “If you want to understand China, you must know what it means to be patient.” But that doesn’t mean everyone in China embraces the idea that “patience is a virtue.”

Based on a humorous society and culture column Kent Kedl wrote for “that’s Shanghai” magazine, this podcast features a little rant about what Kent sees as excessive multitasking. Let’s just say, you shouldn’t hear a toilet flush on the other end of the business phone call you’re on.

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Kent Kedl shares the hilarious — and completely true — tale of his efforts to earn a driver’s license in Shanghai. Give a listen to learn about the Office of Telling People to go to Other Offices, the absurd questions that sound like a George Bush speech translated to Swahili and back to English, and the apparent irrelevance of actually getting behind the wheel of a car.

That’s right: After a series of tests of his blood pressure, vision, grip strength (seriously), question interpretation skills and ability to find his way around an unmarked maze of hallways, not once did Kent have to prove his skill at not hitting things or people. Welcome to Shanghai.