Meet Me in Venice

by Suzanne Ma

  I glimpsed her swollen and blistered hands, pink as raw salmon. I took them in mine. Some parts of her skin were tender and wrinkled like an over-ripe tomato, other parts fibrous like a piece of ginger root.

  “What happened to your hands?” I gasped.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Pei said. “I’m just not used to working at the bar.” I turned them over and brought my nose to her skin, inspecting her hands. Embarrassed, she pulled them back. “Jie,” she said, using the Chinese word for older sister. “Don’t worry about it. Really, I am fine.” Pei was just seventeen years old. I tried to think what I was stressing about when I was her age. A daunting math exam? Who I was going to bring to the prom? It was nothing compared to the challenges Pei wrestled with as a migrant worker.

  The habits of migration and its momentous effects are as old as humanity itself, since humans departed from Africa some fifty or sixty thousand years ago. Every one of us has migrant blood pumping through our veins. Migrants journey long distances in search of safety and economic opportunity, and like all human beings they seek acceptance and tolerance in their new homes. Not all of them find what they are looking for. Almost all the migrants I know are optimists. They are determined to improve their situations and driven to become something more than what they are. They often move about in a frantic pace, believing that if they linger too long in one place, an opportunity elsewhere might disappear or get snatched up by someone else. The migrants I know are open to trying new things. They are curious about other people and other worlds, and that’s why I think they chose to talk to me—not only to share their lives but to find out about mine.

  I can’t say if Pei is typical of all immigrants, but her story is emblematic of all migrant tales, which, at the core, are stories about leaving home, enduring hardship, and starting a new life. Migrants tend to be more dynamic than the people they leave behind. They have no choice but to become familiar with at least two different cultures and therefore see opportunities where others might not. Migrants are clever and learn to think outside of the box: acquiring new languages and adapting to new environments and new ways of thinking. They create networks and bring those new ideas with them wherever they go. Once migrants have gained legal residency in a country, there is a strong tendency to put down roots. Many raise their children in their adopted homes with the hopes that they will have the chance to go to school, master the local language, and never taste the bitterness of a migrant’s life.

  On one of my last evenings with Pei, I trudged up the hill with her toward her home. The orange sun was already nudging the horizon when suddenly she spoke. It took a moment before I realized she was telling me a story:

  A monkey was headed home when he passed by a peach tree. Looking up, he saw fruit so pink and plump, they looked just like the longevity buns he ate every year on his birthday. He scrambled up the trunk, swung himself up onto the branches, and plucked the ripest peach he could find. Then he continued on his way home. Sometime later, the monkey passed by a field of watermelons. The melons were even bigger and rounder than the peach he held in his hand and the monkey thought, “Look at those delicious watermelons!” With that, he dropped his peach and trudged through the dirty field. He hoisted the largest watermelon he could find up onto his shoulder and then continued on his way home. Down the road, he was passing by a cornfield and the monkey found he had grown tired of carrying the heavy watermelon. Looking at the ears of corn, standing so tall in the late afternoon sun, he dropped the melon on the ground and went to gather a few stalks of golden corn. Then, he continued on his way. Soon, the monkey passed through a forest and saw a white rabbit foraging in the woods. He thought to himself: “A rabbit is better than this corn!” So he tossed the corn to the side and ran into the forest, chasing after the rabbit. But the white rabbit was too fast for the monkey, and like a ghost, it dodged out of his grasp and disappeared into the woods. And the monkey returned home, empty-handed.

  “Do you understand?” Pei asked. She feared her nomadic lifestyle would one day leave her unfulfilled. She worried about taking the wrong job, making the wrong decisions, and never quite finding the satisfaction her restless soul sought. In early 2014, a year after our last meeting, Pei’s father, Shen, moved 130 miles away to a city east of Verona where he stocked shelves and helped customers find products on the floor of a Chinese-run store. Pei had found the job for him through an Internet posting. She said his Italian was steadily improving because he was interacting with Italians every day, but she also hadn’t seen him for months because he worked seven days a week without a day off. That year, Shen didn’t even have time to come home for a Chinese New Year dinner.

  Pei quit the mushroom farm in early 2014 and enrolled in a series of night courses to learn about workplace safety, food safety, and hygiene. Five days a week she drove forty minutes to the city of Rimini to attend the classes, which Pei said were necessary for her to apply for a business license. Was she planning to open a bar? Maybe run a restaurant? “Not right away,” she said. “We need to save a lot more money to do that.” Pei now knew how to temper her expectations. While she attended night classes, she found a job as a waitress clearing stacks of dirty dishes at a nearby Chinese buffet. The owner of the buffet, a Chinese man, offered to house her in his apartment, which was just a ten-minute walk from the restaurant. Six other restaurant workers lived there too. Pei decided staying there would spare her the daily forty-minute commute. When I first met Pei in Italy, she was making 500 euros a month and living with her mean-spirited Ayi in a small town outside of Venice. Two and a half years later, she was working as a waitress at a Chinese buffet and she was back to her “five-hand” salary. She made just 500 euros a month, less than $7 an hour—but something within her had changed.

  “I feel very free here,” she said, and it wasn’t because her boss granted her any particular freedoms. Pei recognized that she was working toward something bigger. The waitressing job was holding her over until she completed her night courses, which she hoped would bring her to the next milestone: getting a business license. She was keeping the big picture in mind and she wasn’t letting herself get bogged down with how daunting it all could be. She realized that while success didn’t always come when she wanted it to, success did eventually come. It was only a matter of time. “I wasn’t very happy when I first left China. I was young and I had so much pressure,” she said. “Now I have confidence. I believe that if I work hard and try my best, I will be satisfied with myself.”

  “Was it worth it in the end, coming to Europe?” I asked.

  Pei took some time to think before answering. “Here in Europe, our minds are very active. We can think more clearly than the people back home,” she said. “We are forced to learn a new language, pick up new skills. The wheels of our brains turn faster.” She never did answer my question—whether or not it was worth coming to Europe. Many migrants were returning home to China, but Pei and her family chose to persevere in Italy. Her 500 euro salary was half of what she had earned at the mushroom farm, but it was still more than she could ever make if she returned to China.

  “I may not make a lot of money,” Pei said. “But I am very happy.”

  Epilogue

  One year after my last meeting with Pei in Italy, I came across a quote from Shakespeare’s Hamlet: “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” It brought me back to the house with the peeling yellow paint, when Pei was struggling to pass her driver’s exam. She was frustrated with her circumstances, angry even, but she managed to calm herself down, put things in perspective, and unintentionally quote the bard himself.

  Pei’s migration journey from China to Italy, with all its surprises and disappointments, brought her many highs and many lows. Through it all, Pei realized how important it was to keep the bigger picture in mind. Was her Ayi in Solesino really cruel and uncaring? Pei told me not to judge. Maybe, she said, this Ayi was more kind and giving than many of
the other Chinese bosses out there. In Falconara, the men pinched her bottom but she also learned how to make a cappuccino. At the mushroom farm, there were things to be gained with her fingers in the dirt. Every job, every move, and every decision was part of the journey. Pei taught me that.

  She spent the first few months of 2014 studying hard for her business license, all the while complaining she couldn’t understand a word the teacher was saying during her weekly classes. Her books, which were all in Italian, covered topics ranging from workplace safety and sanitation to commercial law and tax management. Many of the Chinese immigrants I knew didn’t bother taking the test themselves—they spent a few thousand euros to buy the licenses from somebody else. When I asked Pei whether she had considered buying the license, she said: “First of all, I don’t have that kind of spare change. And second of all, isn’t it better to learn these things for yourself?”

  Pei passed her exams in April 2014. Then she began scouting out local shops—bars, restaurants, stores—for business opportunities. It was also in April when she finally broke it off with Li Jie, her boyfriend in China. They had not seen each other for two and a half years, since Pei left China in the fall of 2011. They broke up over the telephone, when Pei finally worked up the courage to ask Li Jie a question that had long been on her mind:

  “When are you planning to come to Italy?”

  Li Jie was frank. “I don’t want to leave China,” he said. “I’ll wait for you to return.” Pei told him she wasn’t planning on going back to China and that she couldn’t return—not until she was running her own business in Italy. Once she achieved that, she would have to work even harder to keep the business afloat. The responsibilities would be endless. The worst part about the breakup, Pei said, was how Li Jie forced her to end it. “I was the one who said it,” she said. “He wouldn’t agree to it. I didn’t want to break up. But I’m tired of working so hard at something that has no clear resolution.”

  One month later, Pei told me she had met someone new: a Chinese boy from Sicily. They had yet to meet in person but had started communicating through text messages and a few phone calls. They were introduced by a customer at the Chinese buffet where Pei was still a waitress. The boy was also a Qingtian emigrant who had been living in Italy for six years, and he was looking for a girlfriend. He sent Pei a few photos of himself, and as they loaded on her cell phone, Pei couldn’t help but notice how much the young man resembled Li Jie: tall and skinny, with big brown hair permed and carefully gelled upward. In some photos, he looked away from the camera sporting shiny aviator sunglasses. Over the next two months, the young man visited Pei twice, each time taking a five-hour flight from Sicily and spending about a week with her. At the end of May, he visited Pei again, this time meeting with Fen and Shen. Pei said her parents approved of her new boyfriend, who then asked if she would consider getting engaged to him sometime during the summer. They had known each other just two months, and Pei had spent just a little more than ten days with him in person. “Things are moving too quickly,” she told him. “I need more time to get to know you.” Her boyfriend was disappointed, but agreed to give Pei some more time.

  In July, Pei told me she and her new boyfriend were moving in together. They weren’t going to get engaged just yet, but they had decided to join forces and open a business together. They rented a room in the city of Rimini. Pei continued to work as a waitress at the Chinese buffet while her boyfriend spent his days visiting bars and shops, scouting for a business venture. “When I come home from work, he cooks for me and prepares a lot of my favorite snacks,” Pei told me. “He gives me a sense of security and I like that.” One month later, Pei and her boyfriend successfully negotiated the purchase of a bar in a small city outside of Verona. They opened their new business on August 8; an auspicious day since the number 8 in Chinese, ba, rhymes with the word fa, which means develop and prosper. Pei was just nineteen years old, and she was already her own boss. I don’t know if she will ever strike it rich, and if she or her parents will ever be able to retire in China “dressed in silken robes.” I only know that Pei’s adventure is just beginning.

  August 2014

  Vancouver, Canada

  Sources

  I learned about Qingtian and the world of Chinese immigrants mostly through firsthand observation and personal interviews. I used real names throughout the book, with the exception of three minor characters who asked for anonymity. There are also books and articles that I have relied on for context, statistics, and background. Below is a summary of the resources that were the most useful to me.

  Chapter 1: The Bar

  The exchange rates used throughout the book reflect the rates at the time of events. In 2014, the euro-dollar exchange rate was 1.38:1 and the yuan-dollar exchange rate was 6.2:1.

  For background on Chinese migrants in Italy:

  Ceccagno, Antonella. “New Chinese Migrants in Italy.” International Migration 41, no. 3 (2003): 187–213.

  Ma, Suzanne. “Chinese Migrants Step Out of Factory Shadows in Italy.” Deutsche-Welle, May 27, 2013. http://dw.de/p/18dbT.

  For background on how immigrants are portrayed in Italian-language media:

  Taylor, Charlotte. “Working Paper: The Representation of Immigrants in the Italian Press.” Centre for the Study of Political Change 21 (2009).

  Zhang, Gaoheng. “Contemporary Italian Novels on Chinese Immigration to Italy.” California Italian Studies 4, no. 2 (2013).

  For official population numbers in Italy:

  I used the Italian National Institute of Statistics: http://www.istat.it/en/.

  Chapter 2: Leaving China

  For more about Zheng He:

  Kahn, Joseph. “China Has an Ancient Mariner To Tell You About.” New York Times, July 20, 2005. http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/20/international/asia/20letter.html?pagewanted=all.

  For background on Qingtian:

  Qingtian huaqiaoshi. [Qingtian Overseas History]. Hangzhou: Zhejiang renmin chubanshe [Zhejiang People’s Publishing House], 2011.

  Wu, Dezheng, et al. Qingtian, xiudingpian. [Qingtian, revised edition]. Beijing: Zhongguo huaqiao chubanshe [Overseas Chinese Press], 2010.

  Zhang, Xiuming. “Remittances, Donations and Investments in Qingtian County since 1978.” In Beyond Chinatown: New Chinese Migration and the Global Expansion of China, edited by Mette Thuno, 67–78. Copenhagen: Nordic Institute of Asian Studies Press and University of Hawaii Press, 2007.

  For background on the Chinese in Europe:

  Christiansen, Flemming. Chinatown, Europe: An Exploration of Overseas Chinese Identity in the 1990s. London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003.

  Gregor, Benton. “The Chinese in Europe: Origins and Transformations” Religions & Christianity in Today’s China 1 (2011): 62–70.

  Li, Minghuan. Ouzhou Huaqiao Huaren Shi [History of the Overseas Chinese in Europe]. Beijing: Zhongguo huaqiao chubanshe [China Overseas Press], 2002.

  ———. “‘To Get Rich Quickly in Europe!’—Reflections on Migration Motivations in Wenzhou.” In Internal and International Migration: Chinese Perspectives, edited by Frank N. Pieke and Hein Mallee, 181–98. Richmond, Surrey: Curzon Press. 1999.

  Thuno, Mette. “Moving Stones from China to Europe: The Dynamics of Emigration from Zhejiang to Europe.” In Internal and International Migration: Chinese Perspectives, edited by Frank N. Pieke and Hein Mallee, 159–80. Richmond, Surrey: Curzon Press. 1999.

  For the history of the overseas Chinese:

  Pan, Lynn. The Encyclopedia of the Chinese Overseas. Richmond, Surrey, England: Curzon, 1999.

  ———. Sons of the Yellow Emperor: The Story of the Overseas Chinese. London: Mandarin Paperbacks, 1991.

  For more about Wenzhou and southern Zhejiang:

  Hessler, Peter. Country Driving: A Chinese Roadtrip. New York: Harper Perennial, 2011, 280–415.

  Wu, Bin, and Valter Zanin. “Explo
ring Links between International Migration and Wenzhou’s Development.” Paper presented at the Community Research Networking Conference, Prato, Italy, November 5–7, 2007.

  Chapter 3: East Meets West

  Ceccagno, Antonella. “The Chinese in Italy at a Crossroads: The Economic Crisis.” In Beyond Chinatown: New Chinese Migration and the Global Expansion of China, edited by Mette Thuno. Copenhagen: Nordic Institute of Asian Studies Press and University of Hawaii Press, 2007.

  Wu, Bin, and Valter Zanin. “Healthcare Needs of Chinese Migrant Workers in Italy: A Survey Report on Chinese-Owned Workshops in Veneto.” Paper presented at the International Forum for Contemporary Chinese Studies Inaugural Conference, Nottingham University, UK, November 2008.

  Chapter 4: Chinatown

  For more about the Chinese in Prato:

  French, Rebecca, Graeme Johanson, and Russell Smyth, eds. Living Outside the Walls: The Chinese in Prato. Newcastle upon Tyne, UK: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2009.

  For more about the fire at Teresa Moda:

  Aloisi, Silvia. “Italy’s Chinese Garment Workshops Boom as Workers Suffer.” Reuters, December 29, 2013. http://reut.rs/1hOwLIx.

  Montanari, Laura, and Massimo Mugnaini. “I parenti delle vittime del rogo a Chinatown ‘Aiutateci, fateci lavorare qui a Prato’” [“Relatives of the Chinatown Fire Victims: ‘Help us, let us work here in Prato’”]. la Repubblica, January 12, 2014. http://firenze.repubblica.it/cronaca/2014/01/12/news/i_parenti_delle_vittime_del_rogo_fateci_lavorare_al_posto_loro-75691038/.