Before meeting his American-born fiancee, Qu Zheng's sole contact with foreigners was having his photo taken with a tourist he once encountered on the Great Wall. The 42-year-old Beijinger does not speak any English, but says he could understand everything his wife-to-be Elizabeth Winkelman said from the first moment they were together.

Winkelman, a 32-year-old solicitor who has spent most of her life in Australia, never thought she would marry a Chinese man, despite her long-held fascination with the culture. She studied Mandarin for many years, and had visited China several times before moving here to be with filmmaker Qu.

The couple is now finalizing wedding preparations, and will live with Qu's extended family in a traditional courtyard home in one of Beijing's old hutong.

Winkelman is among the growing number of expatriates who form a lasting bond with China after finding love here.

Last year, of 9.45 million couples who tied the knot in the country, 68,000 were of mixed nationalities - 4,000 more than in 2005, according to the Ministry of Civil Affairs.

Experts say the increase is a "natural social phenomena" reflecting the booming tide of foreigners coming to China for work or study.

"Frequent migration across borders, driven by the country's rapid economic growth, is a major reason behind the growing number of mixed marriages," Shanghai Academy of Social Sciences sociologist Xu Anqi told China Daily.

"Also, foreigners who are traveling to or are working in China are mostly at the typical age to marry."

It is still far more common for foreign men to marry Chinese women, but the number of Chinese men in mixed relationships is also on the rise.

And while Chinese women marrying foreign men were once assumed to have a financial incentive, today more people are accepting that love does not discriminate by race.

In 2005 in Shanghai alone, 372 Chinese men were in interracial marriages, up from 91 men 20 years earlier.

In order to marry Chinese partners, foreigners must first wade through layers of bureaucracy. Marriage customs in China have changed greatly over the years.

But while restrictions have been relaxed, interracial marriage requires couples to obtain paperwork from authorities in two countries, which can be an expensive and time-consuming process. Before the bond is considered legal, foreigners must obtain a certificate of marriageability from the embassy or consulate of their home country's government, as well as a marriage certificate from Chinese authorities. The marriage certificate can only be issued from the registry in the city or town where the Chinese partner's hukou (resident permit) is held.

But before reaching this stage, these couples face unique challenges in overcoming communication hurdles and getting to know each other, both on a personal and cultural level.

They must negotiate cultural difference, including attitudes towards family and raising children, religion and values, financial issues and even what sort of food they prefer.

Often, they must also deal with friends or family who may not accept their union. But with patience, acceptance and adaptation, the result can be a foreign connection with all the rewards of true love - plus the added spice of diversity.

British teacher Lee McKelvey met his Chinese bride-to-be Ma Li, 25, not long after arriving in Xi'an, northwest China's Shaanxi Province, last year.

They are colleagues at a local high school, and will be married in February next year.

"The best thing is she's not English," jokes 31-year-old McKelvey.

"It is just nice to meet someone who is totally different, that is very appealing. And we just seemed to click straight away."

McKelvey recently traveled to Beijing to obtain a document declaring that he did not have a wife and kids in England.

But for the Manchester native, winning over Ma's family was a more daunting prospect, particularly because he is not fluent in Chinese.

"It makes communication a big problem with her parents," McKelvey says. "They have been great, but I think at first they were a little unsure, mainly because they didn't know whether I would stay.

"There's a bad name for foreign men, Western men around

Expats who want to marry locals face many challenges before they walk down the isle on their wedding day.

here. They're not trusted. But gradually they have realized that I was going to stay in China and that I wasn't going to leave her."

The young couple has already sat for a professional wedding photo shoot, and bought a house in the area. Ma says she would like to wear the red qipao traditionally donned by Chinese brides for their wedding ceremony, to be held in Xi'an.

For Elizabeth Winkelman, falling in love with Qu has brought a deeper understanding of his rich cultural heritage.

"It's probably been more about me adapting to him. He's not a very Westernized Chinese man, and believes in a lot of traditions," she says.

"But I think my increased appreciation for him and Beijing culture has added another dimension to our love.

"I find so much about this man and about Beijing culture very magical."

But being immersed in a foreign environment has also forced her to re-evaluate her own identity.

"I did feel very displaced here in the beginning, I really felt at a loss. Suddenly, I was totally in a Chinese setting, and at the time I didn't know any foreigners. I felt like as if I was just speaking Chinese and was just fulfilling one identity, it is a part of me but it is not all of me," Winkelman says.

"We have also had crises when he says: 'I don't understand the language you speak'."

She met Qu in 2004, while he was traveling through China directing a documentary about the Silk Road. She was among several foreign friends invited to join the crew. The romance blossomed at the historical site of Maiji Mountain in northwest China's Gansu Province, where Qu set up a campsite for an evening party at a beautiful spot on the mountain.

"I can't speak English but I could really understand her language, and whenever she spoke English to me I just understood what she was saying through her eyes," Qu says.

"And at that time, her Chinese was bad, but when we were together there were no language barriers. We could really communicate," Qu says.

At the time, both had personal matters to deal with, and they spent almost a year in separate countries before being reunited in Beijing for good.

"I was trying, during that time, not to fall in love with him, because I thought it would just be impossible to live here (in China)," Winkelman says.

Qu is now choosing an "auspicious date" to marry his love. They plan to hold the ceremony in Australia, in front of their many friends and family, though making sure the festivities retain a "Chinese feeling".

(China Daily October 19, 2007)