Preface

“The journey of 1,000 miles begins with the first step.”

– Lao Tzu, 6th century B.C.

“What if the first step is in the wrong direction?”

– Bill Brown, 1994 A.D.

“Tibet or Bust!” That was our daily mantra through the first half of our 40,000 km drive around China back in 1994 – before the days of bullet trains, highways and bullet cars. For six weeks, we’d snaked over endless mountains and slogged through Mongo-lian mud. We’d survived two bandit sand traps in the Gobi Desert and covered half of the world’s highest highway……

I wondered if the crazy trip was even worth it. When I’d written articles about Chi-na’s changes, some foreigners – and even a few Chinese – had argued, “Only coastal China has changed; no change inland.” So I decided to see for myself. We bought a 15-passenger van and added a bed, table and bookshelves for the boys’ schooling. I pored over maps and National Geographic articles and mapped out a 40,000 km. drive up the coast to Mongolia, West through the Gobi Desert and Tibet, and back to Xiamen from the South through Yunnan, Guangxi, Hainan Island, and Guangdong.

For six weeks we’d meandered without hindrance around China – apart from the Gobi desert bandits. Police in every province were friendly and helpful. Even soldiers were patient when we didn’t see the fallen “Keep Out!” sign and pitched our tent on a military base. Half a dozen soldiers descended upon us while we were building a fire for supper, but with typical Chinese courtesy, the senior officer said, “We’re sorry, but it would be easier for us if you’d camp elsewhere.” He smiled and added, “Could we take photos with your sons? They’re so cute.”

But after six weeks of one hurdle after another, we were stranded just one day’s drive from Tibet. Shannon and Matthew, of course, were not worried. With a certainty that evaporated only when they became teenagers, they knew Dad could do no wrong. Mom was less confident. As Susan Marie squeezed her canvas oxygen bag like a Scots-man with a plugged bagpipe, I wondered if this time I’d bitten off more than my family could chew, even though six years in China had given us good jaw muscles.

The rarefied atmosphere had given me a splitting headache. I pulled off the road before a small military outpost, the permafrost crunching like corn flakes beneath Toy Ota’s tires. I ignored the gawking soldiers and rested my throbbing head on the steering wheel. How on earth did I end up on the roof of the world, when my childhood goal had been Australia?

All generalizations about China are false – including this one.

This book is about how I started out for Australia but ended up on a 3-decade adventure in China. We’ve witnessed unprecedented changes in China. In some small ways, we’ve even participated in these changes.

“I have met only two classes of people who are able confidently to assert (they understand China). They are newspaper reporters and globe-trotters.”

– Dr. Arthur H. Smith, in Gamewell, 1919

Blind Man Feels the Elephant (xiāzi-mōxiàng瞎子摸象)　China defies description – both inconceivably ancient, irrepressibly youthful and vast. Capturing such a kaleidoscopic nation on paper is like the ancient Chinese story of blind men describing an elephant. One felt its leg and said it was like a tree. Another felt the trunk and said it was serpentine. The third felt its ear and said it was like a palm frond. Even after 3 decades in China, I still feel like a blind man who has grasped the mere tip of the tusk, even though I’ve driven some 200,000 km. around China, studied its language and history, written a dozen books on China and consulted with cities around the country.

From our first month in China, we’ve received letters from family and friends asking about life in China – and why we’d given up a good business to learn Chinese. So from October, 1988, I began sending out a little newsletter, “Off the Wall”, to describe life in China. The first issue was almost my last.

The day after I’d mailed my first “Off the Wall”, my computer power supply burned out, thanks to electricity that would, within an hour, plummet to 100 volts and soar back to 280 volts. We fried more electronics than vegetables.

I’d just mailed an American friend to send me a new power supply when we re-ceived a surprise phone call from Hong Kong. Chuck Saunders (at whose home Sue and I had met) said, “I’m coming to see you tomorrow. Need anything?” Chinese friends said, “Yuánfèn” (Fate).

And I’ve been churning out my “Off the Wall” to this day – but I never thought of saving copies for myself. Fortunately, friends and family had saved every letter. When they heard of this book project, they mailed us thousands of pages of Off the Wall, as well as personal letters, my articles from magazines and newspapers and old photos.

This book is the story of our family’s 29 years in China, which just happened to co-incide with the most remarkable changes of any country in history.

Our first few months in Xiamen were so frustrating they were almost fun. It was like a survival reality show except that we could not vote out the villains. No wonder few foreigners stayed longer than a year. By 2004, UNESCO had honored Xiamen as one of the world’s most livable cities, but in 1988, life in XMU’s “Holiday Village” was more like boot camp than a holiday. But like boot camp, it was a crash course in survival, teaching us things about Chinese culture that we use to this day. And, happily, the very Chinese whom we felt initially gave us a difficult time have become friends – almost family.

In addition to driving throughout China to witness changes first hand, I’ve explored China’s rich history – thanks to Xi Jinping. In Nov. 2001, when Xi Jinping was Fujian’s governor, he said during a dinner with Sue and I in Fuzhou, the provincial capital, “You’ve written about Xiamen, your 2nd home. Why not write about Quanzhou, your 3rd home?”

As I research Quanzhou, I learned it had been the start of the original Maritime Silk Route and the greatest port in the medieval world, rivaling Alexandria, Egypt. After pub-lishing “Mystic Quanzhou”, I continued to study Chinese history and culture and wrote a dozen books about Fujian. I also hosted over 400 TV episodes about Chinese history and culture and helped a National Geographic film project on Koxinga, a local hero. I’ve learned much not only about China but about my own homeland as well, and learned to appreciate the uniqueness of both nations. China and the U.S. may at times seem worlds apart politically, but the people we’ve come to know so well, whether maids or millionaires, have the same hopes and dreams, and we’ve been blessed to see some of these dreams bear fruit (such as the maid who actually became a millionaire!).

Life in China has been quite an adventure. We hope you enjoy it as much as we have.