It’s 29 degrees with about 80 percent humidity. I have a sinus infection, which I thankfully manage to get diagnosed in Hong Kong for a price that did not send my heart rate racing as I handed over my VISA card. All things considered, I’m okay, and feeling optimistic as the plane taxis over the tarmac, getting ready to take off to Wenzhou. About an hour and forty minutes later the plane descends from the clouds and I get a view of my new home. It’s quite dreadful. The mountains in the distance are attractive, but as your eyes move down towards the city, the derelict buildings meld into disheartening shades of grey and brown. “Fear not!” I tell myself. Very rarely can a city make a good first impression from a few hundred feet in the air. I decide to wait until I get my luggage and hop into a taxi before I judge the city. I find a taxi, hop in, and watch the city reveal itself as the meter runs. It looks better, not much better, but better.

The school with whom I signed a contract with isn’t in Wenzhou city. It’s a private boarding school in Liao, a town some thirty minutes away from Wenzhou. When you enter Liao, the sign at the entrance of the main road says, “Liao: Flower Town”. The sign is, well, misleading. Granted there are nurseries where all manner of shrubbery and florets are regularly available. As well as wonderful granite and marble statues for one’s garden or home. Liao, however, is not a well-manicured suburb as the name would suggest. One doesn’t walk in to find quaint houses surrounded by enviable gardens. Famous Chinese parks aren’t a dime a dozen, and traditionally serene pagodas are interrupted by noisy traffic on the main road. Despite all this, Liao does have some wonderful unexpected luxuries.

Wenzhou, and by extension Liao, is unique amongst Chinese cities as it was the first city to establish private enterprises in China. It’s closed off from the rest of China due to its mountainous terrain, and has thus been able to develop its own dialect (Wenzhounese) and robust economy; it’s known as the textile and shoe capital of China. In addition, due to the strong work ethic and entrepreneurial aspirations of its residents, several of them immigrate to Europe to make their fortunes and send remittances back home to be invested. This explains the café’s that line Liao’s streets, and the excellent (though pricey) espressos and lattes the locals enjoy at any time of the day. Not to mention the delicious cured hams imported from Europe that you can find in most restaurants, and a wide selection of Italian, French and Spanish wines. In other words, Liao is culturally and financially well off despite it looking less so. It’s a town of social contrasts: sickly looking dogs lay next to mansions, with Porches and Maserati’s parked right in front of them. Opposite said mansion, with the glimmering Maserati, is a family of 5 living in a two-bedroom dilapidated house. Like I said, contrasts.

The further into Wenzhou you travel the less derelict it begins to look. In the city, especially close to the boardwalk, wealth is surrounded by more wealth. And most dogs sit comfortably in the carefully manicured hands of their owners. Restaurants and bars offer a variety of different foods from Western to Thai, and there are a smorgasbord of activities to keep you busy over the weekend. Unlike Liao, where one has to be creative in order to remain entertained. It’s not a surprise that most of the Chinese and Foreign teachers escape to Chashan (another neighborhood) or Wenzhou city, over the weekend.

Fast forward six months since the taxi dropped me off at my new home. Liao is still not pretty, but it has its moments. I’m getting better acquainted with how my school operates and my classes are running more smoothly. I’ve taken a liking to walking in the farm fields surrounding the school, even the occasional hike into the mountain a few kilometers from the main road. Savoring the taste of a strong Americano and letting hours go by as I read, a luxury activity whilst I lived in Toronto, is now possible. And, when hunger draws my attention away from the page, across the street from my favorite café is a restaurant offering delicious and cheap noodle dishes. Everything is homemade by an Uyghur family from Xinjiang, northwest China. 15-20 Yuan (about 3-4 Canadian) is the average price of one dish. It completely makes up from the 5 dollar Americano I just had.

Everyone hopes for the dream experience when they apply for teaching jobs overseas: a great city, a great apartment, close-knit group of friends in a flash, etc. If you were to show Liao to most new ESL teachers, they’d be terrified to leave home, and I absolutely get it. Here you are wanting to experience a life completely different from your own, but the uncertainty of it all is making you nervous, and the feeling of unease is becoming harder to deal with as your departure date approaches. Then you leave, land, and it’s everything you wanted it not to be. You’re pissed off and resentful for making the decision to leave in the first place, and you want to figure out an exit strategy as soon as you connect to wifi. In my experience, you don’t learn who you are when things are easy. You begin to understand what you're made of when you confront adversity. Everyone deserves to have a great time overseas, but it doesn’t always happen. My TEFl classmates ended up in Bangkok, Shenzen, Shanghai. Fun, vibrant cities with lots to do and see. I ended up in Liao with a rooster that doesn’t know he’s supposed to crow at sunrise and not at all hours of the day, morning and night. That being said, I refused to wallow in self-pity and allow the “Flower Town” to spoil my first year abroad.

I began appreciating the small things that I didn’t have in Toronto, such as time to partake in cherished hobbies and take breathers that weren’t scheduled. I appreciate the few, but close, Chinese friends I’ve made during my time here. I wonder, sometimes, if I would have made local friends if my time was spent socializing with other foreigners in bars catered to western expats. Most of all, I’m proud that I passed my own test. I wanted different. I wanted to know that I could move again without the security of family or university, and start over. And I did. I wanted adventure and I got it. It wasn’t easy, but personal growth never should be. So, for now, I’m here, with the rooster, and I’m going to make the best of it. As for where I’ll be next summer, who knows. At least I know I’ll be fine wherever I end up. TEFL