TEM Lab: China3 – Anyue

As my second round in rural Anyue is coming to a close one lingering thought gnaws at my brain constantly. Now it could be the moonshine liquor the Lemon Bureau made us drink, or it could be genuine wonder, but the question that has been perplexing me for the better half of this week (coincidentally coinciding with my turn to write a blog…) has been how on earth have I managed to keep my sanity while in an environment and culture completely different than my own? As I was running last night along a moon lit river in northern Chengdu, dodging poodles, small children, and other oblivious critters along the path, it hit me.

Working out has been the one thing that has steadied me throughout all my travels. When everything was beyond my control, I always had command over my workout regimen. After all, it’s often just a simple matter of lacing up your running shoes or finding a pull-up bar. Staying fit and being active is so important to me that I made it a priority and informed my other team members of these needs before the TEM Labs even began – it was my one stipulation for the team contract. As I mentioned, all it takes to keep me happy is a pair of running shoes or some simple apparatus to hang from (small trees or rusty hanging pipes work well), but even then, especially in the Sichuan countryside, there can be complications.

The first challenge is that rural China doesn’t exactly have a culture of running… In fact, the only time I’ve actually seen another human being on the run was when they were being chased, dodging impending traffic, or trying to catch a bus. As such, I often find myself jockeying for position among an overly crowded road infested with cars, trucks, tractors, motorbikes, bikes, three-wheeled taxis, and the occasional mule/water buffalo ­– often in weather in the high 90’s with 80+ percent humidity.

"Oh hey, didn't see you there"

Fortunately, running in China is easy with a bit of courage and a 6’2 190lb white body frame. I’ve found that the best strategy is to blend in with the local traffic and go. It’s much like swimming with the current of a river… a river of horns, wheels, and asphalt. In Anyue this strategy works even better as most people have never seen a foreigner before, let alone a running one. This causes stares and extra caution, more or less giving me the defacto ‘right of way.’ It has also caused more than one bicyclist to rear end a stopped car.

The second obstacle I encountered arriving in Anyue was finding a local gym. Now I have been to my fair share of Chinese gyms and have found that the gym culture is not quite the same as it is Stateside. No big difference, you know – just little things. For instance, guys in America wear shirts…Chinese men don’t. In the US, men refrain from smoking in the gym. In China, real men finish an entire pack before the end of a workout, and Marlboro Reds no less. It’s really just a matter of expectations, and I expect to see sweaty shirtless dudes flexing, faking deep voices, and smoking up a storm (ladies?).

Clothing and manliness obviously have an inverse relationship.

Well as luck would have it, there was a gym in Anyue and what a gym it was. It had all the necessary equipment and more than my fill of aspiring Diet Coke models! The owner was no joke as well. He and his wife were former body builders and had decked out their place with tons of oiled competition photos and more protein supplements than a South Beach GNC. As the weeks went by I became a regular, and by the end more than a few of the regulars were joking with me and emulating my exercises.

Despite all the challenges of a non-optimal climate, working out and staying fit is completely doable with the right frame of mind and a little bit of flexibility. Often time different cultures engage in activities that seem odd to us but accomplish the same goal. I would see large groups of Chinese women dancing in the parks early in the morning or late at night or couples taking long walks along the river. It’s often just a matter of getting out and moving.

Speaking of which, check out what running in China is all about: Running in Sichuan

Last week during the interim presentation to our Chinese client (who does not understand English), all the lessons I learned about presenting were challenged and adapted as our team presented in English while our translators converted into Mandarin. It was a different learning experience for me and various highlights of these lessons are presented below:

Cut the time in half: I was always told to keep presentations shorter than an hour (including Q&A). So effectively our team (of 5 members) received less than 25 min to present, as translators need equal amount of time to translate.

Explain in detail: Our clients were not as familiar with business terminology, so we had to simplify our presentation and elaborate. While terms such as economies of scale might sound obvious to an MBA student, it conveys no meaning to a client without a business background. Hence we had to explain each term in detail.

Double your preparation time: As time is cut in half and we still had to explain everything in detail, we needed to prepare our scripts very carefully, wisely choose every word, and have the script written well in advance, so that our translators had adequate preparation time.

No humor: While I always love to add some humor into my presentations to make them interesting and attract audience attention, this time we consciously avoided doing so as we were not sure if our humor would be ‘lost in translation’ and received well by the client.

No last minute changes: We had to resist the temptation to make slides better at the last minute. I personally had to control the spontaneous thoughts that came while presenting as they might have confused the translators.

Avoid too much animation: Too many animations can create complications for the translators who have to manage the presentation in two different languages.

Use as many pictures as possible: “A picture is worth a thousand words”. I would say picture is worth ten thousand words in this context and I included as many pictures as possible, whenever applicable.

Rehearse several times with the translators: As our translators do not have a business background, it was my responsibility to ensure that my translator understood the ideas I wanted to convey and had a solid grip on the topics. This made the translator less nervous while presenting.

In the client’s eye, you are only as good as how your translator presents.

As Matt and I walked back from dinner the other night, our ears were once again graced with the low murmuring of locals whispering “laowai!” – formerly a derogatory word for foreigners which has, in more recent years, become acceptable in colloquial language here – as is the custom in most small towns in China where foreigners are rare.   Matt turned to me and said, “You know, you’d think we’ve been here long enough that they would get over it,” which reminded me of my experience six years ago, when I first moved to a small Chinese town in southern Hunan Province.  After living there for a year, I still got the bewildered stares, teasing “hello!” calls, and the ubiquitous announcement that a laowai was coming through whenever I walked through town.  I’m not aware of any studies on the subject, but I would venture to guess that a foreigner living in a town such as this hears the word “laowai” more often than the Chinese term for “hello” at least five to one.  It is a constant reminder that no matter how long we stay here, we are always going to be outsiders, sparking curiosity, amusement, and/or some level of conflict wherever we go.  This reality of constant foreignness is a source of a roller coaster of positive and negative emotions, which, as counterintuitive as it may seem, often become more intense the longer one stays.

While we may be stared at and seen as targets for scams and over-charging for goods, there are also benefits to being forever foreign.  As guests in a country that takes being a good host extremely seriously, those who do know us look out for us in a way that I could never imagine anyone doing in the US, with the exception of family.  Wherever we go, people often try to help us; whether it’s handing a spoon to a foreigner who has not yet mastered chopsticks, showing the proper grip on a ping-pong paddle, or making sure that we get home safely after treating us to barbecued rabbit and drinks.  Sometimes it’s as if the whole town is looking after us to ensure that nothing bad happens.  That is a comforting feeling, and one which I have never experienced outside of small town China.  At the same time, as an independent-minded American, even the positive side of standing out can wear on me much like an over-protective parent.

There is a balance somewhere in the celebrity-like experience that foreigners have here, but in the six years since I first moved to a small Chinese town, I’m not sure that I have found it. To be sure, the calls of “laowai!” and “hello!” don’t bother me like they used to.  In fact, I frequently don’t notice them anymore unless another foreigner walking with me mentions it.  I have even become accustomed to the “over-protective parent” aspect of Chinese culture, embracing it as much as possible, and politely declining as best I can when I have had enough.  I guess it is just the idea of being foreign forever that I struggle with.  Forever is an awfully long time.

As a consultant at the Thunderbird Emerging Markets Laboratory (TEM Lab), you are expected to hit the ground running from day 1. Our team’s challenge was expected to be more than just implementing recommendations; it was about continuously getting buy-in from the officers at the Lemon Bureau and the Anyue Government, proving to them that we are capable of the responsibilities handed to us, and that we can be trusted.

In recent years, I have learned a lot about learning. I have learned about relationship building in several countries where I did not speak the local language but had to learn how to communicate effectively and “read” people. In fact, I think I developed a deeper sense of “radar” than I ordinarily would have if I had not moved around so much. This new work experience in Chengdu and in Anyue, China, has reminded me of a few rules of thumb for thriving in complex environments:

BE COMFORTABLE BEING UNCOMFORTABLE.

No one ever explicitly told us exactly what the client wanted and expected from us in a coherent manner. In fact, we quickly found that the information provided to the previous teams over the past 2 months by different members of the Lemon Bureau was completely inconsistent. This was very frustrating as we expected our client to have full capacity to implement our recommendations (but they do not). What’s the lesson? Because your expectations almost never correlate with the reality once you hit the ground, you enter in this new world that it is unpredictable, fast-moving, and tough to adapt to. Your attitude embracing and responding to this challenge determines how much you will get from the experience. This is like “riding waves”. You must ride waves as you go. You might often find them collapsing underneath you, and you have to ride the next one when it comes. But in the end, how you ride your waves is up to you; it is up to the attitude you decide to have. I believe your attitude reveals how well you can cope in an increasingly changing and complex world. You need to be comfortable with levels of uncertainty and volatility by leveraging a positive attitude no matter how ridiculously frustrating or tough the situation at hand becomes. You must be open to other viewpoints, and expect to be surprised. Yes, “expect the unexpected” – wise words. But above all, you must be comfortable being uncomfortable.

HAVE EMPATHY.

First, working in environments completely different from the ones you are used to requires you to push harder to understand the context and keep an open mind. During our meetings and presentations, Chinese officials occasionally stare back at us with facial expressions exhibiting everything from cautious optimism to anxious skepticism. Unaware if or when we make a serious, albeit unintentional, “faux pas” by attempting to remain silent or lower ourselves discreetly, we are left unsure whether or not the meeting was a success. How do you make a realistic interpretation? Though difficult, you must think through the project from the point of the view of “the other side”, looking at all players’ motivations and interests, or else you might miss the whole point. Leadership requires authenticity, and authenticity requires empathy. It is not until you walk in another’s shoes can you truly understand what it would mean to work together toward a common goal. Only leaders who have high levels of awareness of others can adapt to these local cultures and as a result, have a chance to develop authentic relationships. This relationship will be the strongest determining factor of how much impact your work has on a client, or simply how well a meeting went.

DISOBEY, SOMETIMES.

The Chinese way of working relies heavily on a hierarchic culture, and a lot of business is conducted based on power, as well as around colossal food banquets. Any requests our team has must go through our translators first, who then pass on our message to the officers (who do not speak English). This often distorts our message and is highly ineffective, not to mention how it slows our work down (time is not your closest friend when you need to complete a project in only 4 weeks!). TEMLab teams’ approach to this was simple: go directly to the Chief’s office ourselves, knock at his door and request a meeting. This made our translators feel very awkward, and it definitely was against the “Chinese business rules”, but sometimes you must think you are that important in order to make anything happen. What’s the point of this example? You can address a business challenge in a respectful way that is acting “professionally”, even if it means disrespecting the traditional hierarchy. As it turns out, our approach works, whether or not we are being excused as “foreigners”, you can bend the rules to move forward.

I originally thought that being an Asian of Chinese descent would offer me an advantage over the cultural similarities and familiar social Chinese behaviors. As I lived and worked in Beijing for 2 years, I believed this business trip to China would be far from giving me a culture shock. However, spending a week in the small town of Anyue in the Sichuan province proved me wrong. Anyue presents a plethora of differences in cultures, behaviors, and work styles when compared to those in my country, Thailand, or in some other Asian countries. I have highlighted the major differences I have witnessed so far:

ON THE ROAD: Walking through the chaotic streets and alleyways on my way to the office is quite a challenge. The roads are chock-a-block with traffic. There are no traffic rules. Cars, motorcycles, bicycles, and motor rickshaws believe they have priority above all and thus would not stop or slow down unless you force yourself into crossing the road and pray that it will just be “OK”. Relentlessly honking the car horn is part of the driving style. Simply put, they never take their hands off the horn. This is drastically different from the streets of Bangkok, let alone the rural areas of the country. Noise is considered to be extremely disturbing, and individuals are less aggressive.

AT DINER: Chinese and Thai’s eating etiquette are very distinct, despite our common staple food (rice) and the food sharing habit at the dining table. Chinese eat rice from the bowl with their chopsticks, while Thai use a spoon and a fork on their plate. Chinese toss the waste and leftovers (such as bones and fat) on the table, while Thai behave more (as Westerners would perceive) “politely”, ensuring no food falls off their plate. Thai people, especially women, are taught and trained since an early age to be delicate diners. Slurping and chomping are considered to be impolite in Thailand. In China, the more noise you make, the more you are enjoying your feast!

AT WORK: Working with Chinese requires tremendous patience. Really understanding the Chinese working style helps set less expectation. Successfully scheduling a meeting with the Lemon Bureau Chief and other officers was a task in itself! Meetings are often pushed back for hours with no explanations. Our team is usually informed that an important meeting will take place literally 5 minutes before the start of the meeting. The habit of taking 2.5 hours for the lunch break followed by a nap also distinguishes from the one in Thailand, which typically takes no longer than 1-hour lunch break, and certainly does not have “siesta” time!

Despite the differences in cultures and social behaviors, what I have experienced in China is absolutely invaluable. It allows me to appreciate and understand more about Chinese culture and history. The longer time I spend in this country, the more I discover and learn about its diversity and uniqueness, and of course the more I want to travel in China-one of the world’s oldest civilizations!

Last week I noticed that people in rural China are very friendly and great observers.  I have a special privilege at the local gym; as soon I enter the rather hot gym (there is no A/C and it is currently 37 degrees and 60% humidity), the table tennis players instantly step out to offer me their place to play. The gym owner hands me the best bat she has. I play table tennis with local Chinese people appreciating each other’s spins and shots. We communicate with each other without any words but body language as they do not speak English and I am certainly not a Mandarin speaker.

Having rarely eaten with chopsticks before, I often struggle and spend a relatively long amount of time getting the food into my mouth during the Chinese banquets.  Once I went to a local restaurant for dinner with other teammates; a waitress offered me a spoon almost immediately after she saw me fumble with chopsticks with the intention of helping me to enjoy my dinner. I refused to use the spoon and forced myself to learn to use chopsticks. Not only I am interested in doing it the “Chinese way” but I also aspire to lose a bit of weight during my time in China.  Slowly but steadily, I begin to master the art of eating with chopsticks, thereby making my Chinese name “San Du” more meaningful (San Du means “Three Capitals” in Mandarin – Matt gave me this name because of my background and experience across 3 different countries – India, the USA and China).

On Saturday evening, we were invited to participate at the “English Corner” of Anyue where we played games and shared American festivals (mainly Halloween and Christmas) with over 30 kids and high school students at a public park. Parents, teachers, and friends came to cheer us up and were delighted to have the opportunity to observe, interact and, of course, take a dozen pictures with us. Our team felt like a true Hollywood Star. And now everywhere we go, there are people who recognize us.

To get around and order food in the streets of Anyue, I use 3 key principles: 1) Ask in English, which almost always fails, 2) Point at things and make hand gestures (dumb charters style); and, assuming #1 and #2 have failed, 3) Draw what I want (this has always worked so far). Locals are welcoming and will look after you as if you were part of their family. I feel just like home!

Check out our experience below:

TEM Lab, China Phase 3: English Corner in Anyue

Chengdu is a vibrant city brimming with a lively ambiance, an overcast sky and the scent of chili pepper across its chaotic streets. Our team landed in Chengdu on Sunday 10^th July after 31 hours of exhausting travel, and had our first client meeting on the following day. Our client appeared to be excited by our team’s presentation, and thus invited us to a “Sichuanese Hot Pot” for dinner. Hot pot is the pinnacle of all culinary experiences for Sichuanese… We could not reject the opportunity of experiencing such Chinese authentic eating culture.

We arrived to this loud, partially obscured and boisterous restaurant embellished by traditional Chinese lamps. The floors were partially slick with oil and rests of the previous meals. A crack team of girls patrolled the hall sweeping and wiping the floors, clearing and setting up tables. As we sat around a large table, an army of boys and girls quickly brought two massive boiling pots with bright fluorescent lights shining down on a steaming vat of hot-flavored oil, slowly de-coagulating into a bubbling, fragrant soup of bobbing chili peppers and hua jiao Sichuanese peppers.

“It is ready now!” Heidi (Chinese name here), one of our student translators shouted. With a giddy look in her eyes, she grabbed plates of pork intestines, beef strips, and cow lungs into the boiling pot, adding a plate of bamboo shoots, river algae, and thin slices of tofu. She slowly but steadily stirred the magic mixture with her chopsticks. As everyone would repeatedly and vigorously start stuffing their faces with the vast amounts of food while drinking as many Tsingtao beers as possible, our hosts kept throwing plenty more ingredients to the pot. These included but were not limited to freshwater creatures, fish, all parts of the pig, and vegetables including lettuce, leeks, potatoes and onions. For an instance the hot pot reminded me of Mary Poppins’ handbag which could magically carry and eject anything from it. Whatever can be boiled can be thrown into the pot, turning the basic chilli pepper oil foundation into a more vibrant red and sticky potion.

For the first-timers, here is briefly what you would experience during the hot pot… The hot spices will spread themselves across your lips and burrow deep underneath your tongue as your whole mouth begins to buzz and grow curiously numb (think of getting anesthesia shots from your dentist before he/she catapults your mouth). You will sweat like never before. Your eyes will shine as if you had just gone out of a Swedish sauna and your head will begin to grow light as if it was solely navigating through space. You may even see shooting stars as the shouts of your neighbors blend into background noise. You will place the cow stomach tripes you have just pulled out of the hot pot into a bowl of chopped garlic, cilantro and soft, fragrant oil. You drop this dripping yet somehow crunchy morsel into your mouth and, suddenly, conversion will be complete – you are now part of the Sichuanese family!

Hot pot is an important social event for Chinese people. It is a bonding experience and a rite of passage. Business deals and marriage proposals alike can be sanctified before the hot pot feast. There is an infinite number of hot pot restaurants in China, from Beijing to Guangzhou, but as any Sichuanese can tell you, the most authentic thing can only be found here – in the land of red hot chili pepper and home of Hua Jiao.