2 Questions Every Girl is Asking Herself

Chapter 60

Bei Bei stressed with no less than 12 exclamation marks "book your flight for July 10th! ASAP!"

When things happen, they happen fast. July 10th was only 10 days away. The first step was to get my passport renewed and Chinese visa processed. Even with expedited service, this was cutting it way too close.

The Vancouver passport office is located on a crowded floor in an old building. I had to spend nearly two hours waiting my turn, with the "get-my-passport" line spilling out of the office and all the way to the elevator landing.

When at last my turn had come, I approached the passport window, and asked in my most friendly manner if he could please put a rush on my passport renewal. I showed him my booked flight, and explained that I needed a few days for the Chinese visa. He looked like he might have smacked me with a wooden spoon if he'd had one. "Can't guarantee you'll get it in time for the visa. Why'd you book your flight on such short notice?!"

I didn't mention that I was going on a Chinese dating show – that a television channel had only just emailed me yesterday, requesting that I arrive in Nanjing in exactly ten days to commence shooting FCWR Canadian Edition, where boys and girls pair off to go on romantic vacations on the Aegean Sea. I wasn't sure how to explain this.

During the week leading up to the show, I referred to the checklist BeiBei had sent me many times to make sure I hadn't missed anything. I imagined after all the trouble FCWR went through of plucking us out from thousands of applicants, they'd put us up in some swanky hotel. Or at the very least, a quaint crib bubbling with oriental charm, something with crisp green bamboo, China Red cushions. But my hotel fantasies were quickly swept away when I reached bullet number four of the FCWR Preparations Instructions Sheet. Han Ting – the McDonald of Chinese hotel-chains – is where we shall sleep. Two girls in one room. Dormitory style.

Now, my favourite part of the preparations was, of course: the clothes. FCWR asked us to bring two outfits and a pair of high heeled shoes. In addition to the ensemble I'd worn at the "audition" in Hotel Vancouver, I packed the most beautiful dress I owned – a blue-gray BCBG gown of underwater-design. The velveteen texture of abstract coral reefs shimmered with the light as I moved. I paired it with strappy sandals in silver, with tiny strips of rhinestones, like moonlight bouncing off the waves. Matt told me to put my hair up into a ponytail. "You look the best in ponytails," he said.

On the plane I couldn't sleep at all. I didn't even want to watch any movies. All I wanted to do was to prepare for the show.

With my high expectations and complete lack of experience of being on television, I felt totally overwhelmed for the entire flight. I don't have a Chinese blog, I don't have Chinese Twitter. I don't know what I'm going to say on the show. I don't know how I'm going to pull off intelligent banter with the bald host, or the equally bald, but evil-tongued commentator LeJia. I don't know anything about the men going on the show. I don't know anything about the women going on the show. I have no friends in Nanjing, or even friends-of-friends. And here's the thing about being a Chinese person who hasn't lived in China for 15 years: I can't speak in pithy soundbites. Not in Chinese. I'm half a beat behind. (If you want to hear something snappy from me, let me get back to you in a week.) I don't even know how the Chinese say "quarter-life crisis".

18 hours later, I checked into my hotel. And the first order of activity was to meet the all-important executive producer, Zheng Ge, at Jiangsu Television headquarters.