This past weekend, I was able to leave the bustling city of Hong Kong and experience China through a program that allowed me to teach Chinese students English at three different schools. I’ve been to mainland China before, but this past trip showed me what it’s like to actually live there.

The first thing I noticed was that the town where we stayed was surprisingly urban. The streets were paved, and many people set up stands on the sidewalks or owned small stores that were all crammed next each other. It looked like all the Chinatowns depicted in the movies, and a little bit like a smaller version of Hong Kong.

Just past the sidewalk and on the streets there was a plethora of motorcycles, both old and new. The cyclists zoomed about and swerved all over the road, seeming to not pay attention to the lanes or the traffic lights.

All drivers honk to indicate their presence, and then seem to do whatever they want to do without regards to anything or anybody else in the road. This makes crossing the street an impossible task.

Inside the building where we stayed, the rooms were in very poor condition by American standards. The walls and floors were grungy, and the light buzzed like fluorescent light bulbs. The shower consisted of a showerhead without a tub or stall. There was only a hole in the floor underneath the sink for the water from both the showerhead and the faucet to drain into. The room made me think of a sleazy motel, but it was not a big deal because almost all of our time was spent outside of the building and inside the schools where we taught English.

The first school I went to was outside city limits. We passed several fields on the way there. They reminded me of the agrarian society of Iowa in many ways. The plants were in tidy rows and well-weeded, and deciduous trees surrounded the fields. However, the fields were extremely tiny compared to American fields: an acre at most.

When I vocally noted the size of the fields compared to Iowan fields, I was informed that it was because the Chinese use their hands instead of the huge machines we use to farm. As we continued talking on our way to the school, I learned how it was to live in a communist country. Here, the people cannot move about freely. In order to move to a different city, the Chinese citizens must apply for a pass with the government. If they move without a pass, they will not be able to find a job because it is illegal for businesses to hire these people.

Our conversation ended abruptly upon our arrival at the school. The most interesting thing I learned about these schools was that many students live there because their houses are too far away to go home to.

This school, along with the others I visited, was very old. The sides of the walls had rust stains from water dripping off the pipes, and the classrooms had very little equipment, if any at all. They looked like the one-room schools I’ve seen in history books.

The rooms were brightened only by the hopeful faces of the students. Many students are led to believe that Hong Kong is a paradise where everyone is a rich movie star. They all dream of being able to live in this city, and a few of them told me about their dreams to travel around.

Afterwards, I began to realize how futile many of their dreams were. Especially after hearing that a young teacher who was about 22 years old told my fellow volunteer about how she dislikes her job and the town where we were staying. In the same breath she also stated that she has no choice because she cannot get a pass to move, and that she was filled with hopelessness and despair.

Her story me, along with the students I met, realize what it would be like to live in a country where everything from residence to religion (none) was chosen for me. Seeing the pupils’ clever and youthful eyes and hearing that teacher’s story placed me in the shoes of a communist citizen. I saw firsthand how the governmental system will keep these people from being able to attain many of their goals.

I don’t want to criticize the Chinese government. I am certain there is much I am unaware of. Yet, knowing the feelings of these people made me truly walk in someone else’s shoes for the first time in my life.

Now, I have a better perspective of the immigrants that travel to America. Because of this revelation, I have gained a deeper sympathy and understanding for the refugees that come to our country.

Ariel Ringlein is a junior in management from Guthrie Center. She is in Hong Kong for the semester as part of the ISU study abroad program.