hen you first eagerly arrive in China, you are full of dreams about ancient palaces and shining skyscrapers, and expecting nothing else in between. In this way it can be hard to reconcile what you’ve heard and read with the real ‘everyday’ China, and from the mouths of expats you can hear the awful ‘Oh, I hate China!’ that so saddens me, but also rings true in the back of one’s mind. But you see, what you hate isn’t China, it’s losing touch with that dream of an exotic foreign land.

When I arrived in China, it still felt to me as though I was walking into a dream; Australia, as such a young country, cannot compare to the profound history and culture that surrounds you in China. It still seems unbelievable to stand in a place with more than a thousand years of history in its current state; that Shànghăi xiàn can been seen as a ‘very young city’ when it was codified some 724 years ago. Having learned a little about the history of Shanghai at home, and some more at various museums, seeing the neon lights of Dà Shìjiè and the European tradehouses on the Bund was like those dreams had been realised, and they stood before me proud, but aloof.

We made a trip to Suzhou, and I felt shivers down my spine when I entered the sanctums of the Lion Grove Garden, running my fingers across stone pulled from a river 1,342 years ago and held in place with sticky rice, and walking where where emperors and immortals have strolled and left their seals of approval on the walls.

Westerners, I believe, often form these type of images of China in their minds, of exotic shining cities and ancient buildings. We’re taught not to stand our chopsticks upright in rice, why gifts are always red and cost 88 yuan, and why some hospitals and other buildings have floors 3A and 3B, instead of floor 4. When we arrive in this fantastical place, with rose-coloured glasses we accept photos with strangers, more often if we’re blond and pale-skinned; and, with any luck, we don’t get tricked into an unlicensed taxi.

When what you experience differs from your illusions, however, there’s an odd period of transition when the fantasy breaks down, and we might feel bitterness and frustration; ‘the streets are so dirty’, or ‘The people aren’t polite!’ But this isn’t really true at all; there’s simply a difference between what you consider important, and what they do. If there isn’t a haggling culture in your home country, like there isn’t generally in Australia, you may feel this frustration as I have when you come away from a purchase satisfied or even feeling guilty with a price of 60 yuan, only to discover your friend paid just 20. Or when you’re used to small talk with the cashier as they ring up your groceries, you might be dissatisfied with a simple greeting, then an announcement of the price. But if you think about it logically, the population of Shanghai and its surrounds equates to the number of people in the whole of Australia; it’s simply futile to ingratiate themselves to the streams of customers coming and going through the doors, especially if your grasp of Chinese isn’t exactly firm. Even stepping outside your hotel can be confusing to the foreigner; traffic whizzes by seemingly without regard for the traffic rules you’ve known, and car horns are often used for communication, when back home they are associated only with imminent collisions or extreme rage. Until you grasp the key rule — that you may still turn right against the lights — you still feel too afraid to cross streets like a jaded pro, coming within a scant metre of a bike at full speed; or thrills when your bus driver, in plush fur coat and hat, enters the elevated roads and starts warring with the other drivers to get a metre ahead in rush hour.

What we’re not taught is a little Chinese attitude, born of Confucian ideals of family and hardened from the sheer number of people that live in the same place. Like the dragon guarding its pearl, Chinese people generally don’t jump to aid strangers. There is a firm distinction between those one cares for and those — without any ill will — that one does not. Chinese families are busy enough, working hard and encouraging their children to study hard, to better themselves; there’s little trace except for memories of the ‘Iron Rice Bowl’ here anymore, just hard work and the China Dream to fulfil. Western families, I think, have lost touch with what came before a middle class life; that and not having the competition of sheer numbers has caused us to look upon the assiduous nature of the Chinese with surprise.

In the Western mind, when thinking of China the characteristics of the benevolent dragon can be sometimes confused with the fearsome occidental dragon; in a well-guarded lair, luring in adventurers with promises of a share in its gold and riches, but to be respected for its power and might, and always carrying the threat of flame. In the midst of culture shock, and the stress of immersion in a new country, we forget that the dragons of the East are benevolent creatures; still powerful and respected, yes, and more often than not soaring with eagles in the sky above. Rightfully a little wary of inviting strangers into its home, past its walls, nevertheless its claws are used to protect its shining pearls, not to hurt.

So, my advice to those reconciling their love for a dream of China that got them here in the first place, and the perhaps harsher reality; remember why you fell in love. Uneven cobblestones and loose litter in the streets give way to colourful treasure troves of scarves and milk tea in shopping malls. Old uncles will smile warmly and draw maps on scraps of paper when you ask for directions, all the while asking questions about your home country. I find great reward in interactions which go beyond the perfunctory; if you can say more than ‘hello’ and ‘how much?’ to the shopkeepers, they might relent a little when you get down to duelling on Hello Kitty calculators for fake Louis Vuittons. Or when you’re complimented on producing a few intelligible syllables of Chinese and instead of saying ‘thank you’ you must playfully reply ‘Oh, where?’ or ‘No no, you flatter me!’ Maybe you’ll grasp a little of the interrelated guānxi and miànzi that is alien to us, and accept your change and business cards with both hands, earning yourself a delighted, surprised smile from the person in front of you. Go visit beautiful scenery and historic sites. Go breathe in Lu Xun Park next to our very own SISU; where leafy jungle gives way to beautiful lakes and streams; where aunties practise their dancing; uncles sing karaoke between Lǔ Xùn and Goethe, and practise clerical script on the pavement; and children giggle as they climb onto Victor Hugo’s knee, or go for boat rides. Remember how the skyscrapers reach for the heavens, embodying the China Dream revitalised.

All these wonders are still here, along with the tiny moments that will shine bright in your memory. You need but open your eyes and take the ‘good’ with the ‘bad’ in order to appreciate it so, as you soar away into the sky, you will remember why you’ll come back.

The author is an international exchange student (Monash University, Austraila) at Shanghai International Studies University (SISU).