Two Years and Counting: My Unlikely Dream Life in China

Six months before my 50th birthday, I took a leap of faith, dusted off my crumbling teaching credentials, and was rewarded with a position at an international boarding school in Shenzhen, China.

I’d spent almost my entire life living within a few miles of where I was born in North Carolina. I married, raised my children, saw my parents weekly, ran into high school classmates at the market, and ultimately divorced. I was enjoying my life in a small town and my work in the publishing industry. But I’d always nurtured a dream of living overseas. I imagined exotic places like Morocco and Lebanon… though never China. Still, I understood this was my chance. I signed a two-year contract and left home five weeks later, telling my family I’d be back to spend the summer with them.

That was October 2019, my first time in Asia. Once you enter mainland China, there’s an absolute shift in your universe. Where I live now, very few people speak English. There’s no Google; the apps are different and all in Chinese. It’s terrifying and thrilling at the same time.

I was hired to teach English Literature and Composition in the U.S. track (comparable to a U.S. high school Common Core curriculum). The school serves almost exclusively Chinese students in grades 10 through 12. Most plan to attend university abroad, so all courses are taught in English. (I still haven’t managed to learn more than a few words and phrases in Chinese!)

Compulsory education ends after grade 9 in China. The parents that send their children to a bilingual boarding school for high school, tend to be either children of wealthy parents or children of parents who deeply value education.

As instructors, we must understand and respect abiding cultural differences. But overall, my students are like teenagers anywhere! I love teaching them. And discipline issues are minor.

After my first two years, I became a chair of the World Languages Department, and next year I’m also taking over the school’s writing center.

When the pandemic first came to light, I was vacationing on a little Cambodian island in the Gulf of Thailand. My school quickly transitioned to online learning, and I took the opportunity to meander around Southeast Asia for seven weeks. I visited eight different cities and villages in Vietnam, Thailand, and Malaysia before the foreign liaison at my school told me it was safe to come back to China. When I purchased a ticket for later that week, I had no idea I’d be on the last flight to my province for eight months.

Many expats fled the strict epidemic control measures here, but I chose to renew my teaching contract. Twice. It would be more than three years before I could return to the U.S.

Life in China is Not Like Americans Imagine

Many expats work in China in various industries, but education is a popular career choice. There are public schools, international schools, and language schools. China is one of the few countries that allows people to teach a subject with only a bachelor’s degree and no teaching license. In fact, many people secure teaching positions here and simultaneously complete the coursework for a U.S. teaching credential. And the compensation is so good, you can pay for your education out of pocket!

The work is strenuous and challenging, but I thoroughly enjoy it. Plus, my employer offers various holiday bonuses throughout the year, an annual pension and performance bonus, and about 13 weeks’ vacation each year. I use that time to explore the mainland… I’ve visited 13 provinces to date. I’ve seen the adorable pandas, karst landscapes, rice terraces, and tea plantations; attended the famous Qingdao (TsingTao) beer festival, the largest in Asia; and eaten the most amazing food.

Shenzhen is a Tier One city, which makes it one of the most expensive in China. However, I live quite far from the financial district and other districts with large populations of expats, so the costs are lower. I’m about a five-minute walk from a large beach on the South China Sea, and my school is a five-minute walk in the other direction.

My three-story loft apartment has a big balcony and sunset mountain views, with a monthly rent of CN¥4,000 (about $570). My school provides a monthly housing allowance of CN¥5,000 ($693, untaxed), which covers my rent, water, gas, electric, and property management fee. My WiFi cost is so negligible, I’m not sure what it is. And I get a tax credit for rent payments. Every Wednesday after work, I get a $45 massage, and my ayi (housekeeper) comes every Thursday for $9 per hour. My monthly cost of living is about $1,500.

In Shenzhen, if you want to stay at the Hyatt and eat in Western establishments, you’ll pay prices similar to the U.S. But if you stay in Chinese hotels and eat Chinese food, you can expect to pay about 25% to 30% less for something comparable. I’m splurging if I pay $50 for a three-star hotel in a primo neighborhood. I can pay $30 for dinner and drinks in a super fancy Chinese restaurant. In more remote areas, you can fill your belly for a dollar or two. I’ve stayed in decent hotels, in multiple cities and villages, for less than $10 a night.

I also have incredible health insurance. Two years ago, I had a bone infection in my toe, which I ignored through tears and gritted teeth because I assumed it was gout. When I finally went to the hospital, I required emergency surgery and risked losing the foot. Seventeen nights in an International Medical Center (catering to foreigners), a huge private room, IV antibiotics and pain medication, English language surgical consultations, and x-rays generated a final bill of about $14,300. The cost to me? Absolutely nothing, because I have zero copayments for inpatient care.

An example of outpatient copay would be follow-up x-rays (my was cost $12) and consultation with my surgeon ($5). However, when I’ve had other doctor visits, such as a gynecological exam, cholesterol test, or testing and treatment for vertigo, my school covered the copay with no cost to me—not even for medications. The clinic I go to even serves a buffet breakfast to all fasting bloodwork patients: free sandwiches, eggs, fresh fruit, pastries, and more before you leave their facility. They would never send you out into the world on an empty stomach.

While I wouldn’t necessarily recommend Shenzhen as a travel destination, it’s a fantastic place to live. The city is just over the border from Hong Kong, which means I have easy access to two major international airports with affordable flights all over Asia and Oceania. The most expensive part about exploring this part of the world is the flights, but if you’re already in China, that barrier is removed…

I recently spent a nine-day holiday in Malaysian Borneo, where I trekked four days through the jungle and then spent two days climbing Mount Kinabalu—my first time ever summiting a mountain. When the school break began in June, I headed straight to Bali, where I completed a PADI scuba diving course and spent a month traveling around. Now, I’m traveling with my daughter in Vietnam.

How We Get Around the Great Firewall

As you might imagine, life here is not without its challenges. Many things take much longer to do than they would back home. For example, I have to take photos or screenshots and send them to myself in WeChat so I can translate them before I even begin to do something. I do this every time I want to order food or make a purchase on TaoBao (think Chinese Amazon.com on hallucinogens.)

I cannot easily ship parcels and documents. In the U.S. I could just roll up to the UPS store or post office. Painless. But here I have spent near-tear-inducing hours trying to send power of attorney papers back home, or to send passport renewal docs to the U.S. Consulate in Guangzhou. I have a Mainland PRC debit card, but a credit card is required. A Chinese credit card, to be exact.

And then there’s the Great Firewall… a source of endless frustration. There are multiple countries in the world that restrict internet access, and while China isn’t the harshest, many websites require a virtual private network (VPN) for access here.

A VPN will “ping” whatever location (country and city) you choose in order to bypass the restriction. This is technically illegal here, but it’s a concession that is made for foreigners who are contributing to society. With a VPN, I can access Google, Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, WhatsApp, Zoom, YouTube, Netflix… you get the idea.

While a VPN is absolutely required for expat life in China, it’s something we all use but never actually discuss in, say, a WeChat conversation. Even my very Chinese school has a VPN on the WiFi network because we need access to certain resources. But sometimes the VPNs go down, and you can’t do anything but wait or maybe read a book.

On the more serious side, public fighting (or affection) can get you jailed. Engaging in discussion of certain geopolitical topics can get you deported, as will indulging in any substance banned in China—even if you do so on vacation in a place where said substance is legal.

Despite the frustrations that come with living in China (or any foreign country for that matter), I’m living a life beyond anything I ever dreamed. Safe streets; clean, efficient public transportation; swift, affordable healthcare; fascinating people; gorgeous landscapes; cheap, delicious food; amazing travel opportunities…

I know my family wants me to come back closer to home. And I’d never even wanted to travel to Asia! It always seemed too “foreign”… but at this moment, I believe I’ll retire somewhere in Asia. Just not anytime soon.