Laowai

Laowai. A common thing to hear in Shanghai, everywhere in China really, often accompanied by giggling. Sometimes it's punctuated by the odd grunt.

I was first told laowai means "old white guy." My sister-in-law, a local Shanghaiese, assured me that was nonsense, that the Mandarin roughly translated as "foreigner." I appreciated her generosity, but, I admit, the two translations didn't strike me as altogether different. Whenever  laowai entered the Chinese vernacular I suspect the vast majority of foreigners were indeed old white guys. So the distinction seemed like, well, semantics.

Whatever the meaning, whatever its intent, I know this. I am a laowai. On this point there is no dispute. For I am a foreigner. I am white. And I am, no matter how much I care to deny it, old.

Well, old insofar as I'm middle aged. Old enough anyway that moving halfway around the world to Shanghai from America is both oddly simple and altogether nuts. Simple in that I have the life experience and a decent enough job to live most any place with some level of comfort. Nuts because, let's face it, this is China.