Afternoon Tea Talk
During today’s afternoon tea, a colleague casually asked, “Isn’t your 40th birthday this month?” That took me by surprise—wait, I’m turning 40? In Sweden, like in China, we have a personal identification system, and most of our information is linked to it. I assume she spotted my birthdate on some document.
At our company, there’s a tradition of celebrating milestone birthdays, typically the 50th and 60th. Everyone gathers to sing the Swedish birthday song—not the cheerful one most people know, but a more energetic and uplifting version that’s quite unique. Along with the singing, the company gifts champagne, a gift card, and a birthday cake. Sometimes they celebrate 30th and 40th birthdays too 🎉. If they do, I guess I’ll get to experience it firsthand!
She then asked me about birthday traditions in China, particularly for a 40th birthday. I replied that I often forget my own birthday since I celebrate according to the lunar calendar, and the date changes every year. However, my parents and wife never forget. My mom even reminds me to avoid eating certain foods like steamed buns on my birthday, believing it would lead to more arguments in the coming year.
Our conversation naturally shifted to how Swedes celebrate their milestone birthdays like the 30th, 40th, and 50th. After some lighthearted exchanges, we all went back to work.
Later in the evening, after dinner and some coding, I suddenly felt the urge to write something down.
Reflection
I was born and raised in a small coastal village. My parents were humble farmers, and like many families in our area, we relied on the sea. The land was saline and alkaline, making farming tough, so many people turned to sea-related jobs. Coastal villages were often wealthier, thanks to fishing. But fishing also came with risks—some people lost their lives at sea.
Growing up in this environment fostered my love for seafood, especially fish. My mom used to joke about her childhood, saying, “When we didn’t have enough to eat, we’d just snack on crab legs we found along the way.”
My parents placed a strong emphasis on education, believing it was the key to leaving the village and building a better future. My mom was particularly strict about my studies, which was uncommon in our area at the time. Thanks to their support, I excelled academically through middle school, high school, and eventually college. I even pursued a master’s degree.
However, when the opportunity arose to apply for a PhD program, I hesitated. Did I really want to continue studying? A few personal experiences during that time made me realize the importance of financial and emotional independence. Without it, confidence and peace of mind were hard to achieve. After long conversations with my dad, I decided to forgo the PhD path and focus on finding a job.
My first job was at a state-owned enterprise in Tianjin. It felt like an extension of university life—new employees were assigned mentors, given dormitory housing, and could dine at the company cafeteria. Work relationships were straightforward, and the environment felt safe but somewhat stagnant.
As a fresh graduate, I was sent to Sichuan for fieldwork. Surprisingly, it turned out to be the most enjoyable time in my early career. Sichuan’s food, culture, and leisure activities were unmatched. After work, my colleagues and I would eat, explore, and unwind by playing Dota.
During this period, I taught myself programming and created a small tool for our department. A senior engineer noticed my interest and invited me to join his team. I was thrilled—it aligned perfectly with my passion.
However, reflecting on that time, I see a significant flaw in myself: I lacked initiative in communication. When transitioning to the new team, I didn’t discuss it with my mentor until she heard about it from the senior engineer. Looking back, I regret not handling it better and owe her an apology for my poor communication.
After three years in Tianjin, I was sent to Turkey for a six-month assignment. This was my first significant cultural shock. I worked in Ankara, Turkey’s capital (not Istanbul, as many assume).
Two memorable incidents stand out. The first was a media report about violent protests in Ankara. While friends back home expressed concern for my safety, I hadn’t even noticed the events they described. Life on the ground felt calm and ordinary.
The second was meeting a Turkish woman fluent in English during a supply run to a nearby town. She introduced us to local museums and even invited us to her brother’s wedding. These experiences taught me two things: first, most people are inherently kind, regardless of nationality or background; and second, communication goes beyond language—gestures and basic phrases can go a long way.
After a few more years and career shifts, I eventually transitioned into tech and moved to Beijing. The fast-paced environment challenged me to grow both personally and professionally. I became more outgoing, embraced collaboration, and gained the confidence to take on leadership roles.
Later, the COVID-19 pandemic became another major turning point in my life. It forced me to confront my vulnerabilities and reassess my priorities. The experience humbled me, taught me to accept my limitations, and ultimately reshaped my outlook on life.
One pivotal moment came from an engineer on Twitter who shared his journey of finding work in Sweden. His detailed account inspired me to pursue opportunities abroad. A stranger’s words of encouragement helped me overcome my doubts and fears, and for that, I’ll always be grateful.
Moving to Sweden brought its own set of challenges and rewards. Living apart from my family at first was difficult, but eventually, they joined me, and we’ve since built a happy life here. My child is thriving in the Swedish school system, developing confidence and independence—qualities I deeply value.
In 2023, I created an app called Poetic Snap. It matches photos with lines of Chinese poetry and has been downloaded over 20,000 times. This project fulfilled a lifelong dream: to build something meaningful that resonates with others.
Looking Ahead
As I approach 40, I reflect on my journey with gratitude. While I may not have all the answers, I’ve grown to understand myself better—my strengths, my limitations, and my passions.
I believe in the importance of possibility and curiosity. Life’s possibilities motivate me to take risks, while curiosity keeps me exploring and learning. These qualities, along with the support of loved ones and strangers, have shaped the person I am today.
If you ever feel the need to share your thoughts with someone, even a stranger, feel free to reach out. You can find my contact information on my homepage.