Expatatriate Paul Parra [Photo provided to China Daily]

Mandarin matters

A year after the launch of Neemic, Galliker found himself a neat courtyard house in Beijing's Dongsiqitiao Hutong, living his life mostly on previous savings. After a period of financial struggle, he's back on his feet again, he says. "Since this year, it's really better because now I make more money than I spend, ... which makes me sleep much better."

Galliker, who sees China as a land of opportunities, hopes to spend the next few years here working on his fashion brand while waiting to get involved in eco-agriculture. He plans to leave by 2020, possibly for Africa, where he says there's a big scope for organic farming given the wide availability of land.

He speaks little Chinese but gets by, thanks to his local friends.

But poor Mandarin skills don't work for all foreigners, as Beijing resident Raul Parra's experience seems to show.

Many of his friends left China after three years of living here because they didn't speak much Chinese, the Mexican man says. Parra, 35, has crossed that threshold though by being here for more than three and a half years. He works for State broadcaster China Radio International and also serves as a media adviser to the Center of Mexican Studies at Beijing Foreign Studies University.

"Chinese requires at least two days of study each week and it's really disheartening when you find the word that you spend the whole day learning can't be more helpful than zhege (this)," he says.

Parra complains that students are free to learn the famously tough language because that's their main occupation, but professionals aren't always able to give it their time. Some of his foreign friends are keen to chat with their Chinese domestic helpers but can't get beyond nihao (hello) and xiexie (thank you).

"Chinese people wouldn't easily invite you to their houses. If they invite you, you can say that you are really good friends," Parra says of what he perceives as the social dynamism.

He doesn't have all the answers yet. He wonders if Chinese are shy people or are they afraid their hospitality would be inadequate in a society where "loss of face" is a big deal.

But sociologists say the lack of effective communication can mar efforts to understand a country and its people anywhere.

The Office of International Cooperation and Exchange at Shanghai International Studies University analysis expatriate behavior often by using graphics representing different periods in a foreign resident's China life. The initial phase is usually a "honeymoon" because everything seems exciting and fresh, according Liang Xiaoxue, a 28-year-old staffer.

In the second stage, the expatriate may find it difficult to have meaningful conversations with Chinese and may feel constrained by the subsequent lack of awareness of cultural and other issues. This is described as the "disheartening" phase. The last part is about adapting to the new environment and how that's done depends on individuals.

Liang says there are some foreign teachers at the university who are willing to learn about the country and make friends with local people. They are likely to adapt more quickly to China than those who don't make an effort to mingle much or learn the language.

"We also have teachers who have been in China for more than a decade, but do not speak Chinese and only make friends with those coming from their own countries."

But looking into the Web will show misconceptions cut both ways.

For instance, an online video presents a list of stock questions Chinese tend to ask foreigners, including about their age, salary, relationship status and lifestyles. There are a few cliches too: Germans are rigorous, French are romantic, Jews are rich and Americans sexually open.

But younger Chinese, who have been exposed to foreign countries and cultures, are less likely to pigeonhole outsiders than the elderly population, some expatriates say. In general though, most say they like Chinese people and consider them to be humble and welcoming.