He had been an accountant before stumbling into Hollywood as a production accountant and later as a personal assistant to the famous action director. I wondered how he was surviving in Hollywood with his constant high-fiving and at the same time, disgusted with what mainstream Hollywood stood for.

"But look at your country," he continued, "there are so many changes happening. Everything is beautiful. Including this town." His voice and our steps on the cobblestones echoed down the narrow street.

We stepped out of the old-town area and into present-day China. The town center consisted of a motorcycle mall and small storefronts selling low-end household goods. The buildings in this relatively poor town were boring square leftovers from the 1970s. Bicycle bells competed with car horns. Dust chased after each vehicle driving by.

"Hi, hello, how are you doing?", he greeted a mother holding a baby boy on the street. The mother turned away and giggled with her friends.

"I like your country, man. Everything here is beautiful," he exclaimed. I was amused - I could understand him liking the old town because its charm was preserved for tourism purposes; but the new town with its chaos and noise and dust?

Yet slowly, his optimism infected me as the days went by. Perhaps I shouldn't be so critical of my own country, I thought. Maybe we Chinese are not as jaded as the Americans because we have destroyed so much of our old traditions and yet are not fully immersed in Western commercialism.

Paul ended up the only crew member I am still in touch with on Facebook. Every once in a while he messages to say hi. "I hope I can come to China again, soon," he said in his last message.