It's China

Being in China is not like being in Slovakia.  For one thing, I went to Slovakia by myself and spent a great deal of time alone.  This gave me the opportunity to write and reflect.  In China, I am now, for the first time after three weeks, alone.  Here, I travel with a team of colleagues and, sometimes, graduate students.  We are constantly on the go and frequently entertained by professionals we are working with or visiting.  This leaves little time to write and reflect.  For the next week, I am going to try to capture some of the events that have occurred and other random thoughts. 

Being in China is often chaotic, always dusty, and never dull!  We have a saying, that in the midst of pandemonium, when a lack of understanding permeates our attempts at communication, or when things just seem so foreign to our American mind and way of doing things, we use – “It’s China!” – always accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders and a purposeful release of any stress connected to the current situation.  Without the ability to let go, we’d probably all go crazy.  Letting it go seems a better solution.

Yesterday, Nancy and I came down for breakfast at our hotel.  Nancy is one of my university colleagues.  She and I have now made three trips to China together and have collaborated a number of times at the university.  Chinese breakfast is not a western breakfast, although there are generally boiled eggs (which I can’t eat) and some fruit and not-to-sweet pastries (again, I can’t eat).  There is always rice porridge (aka, rice congee), usually a vat that is plain and a vat with some vegetables.  I find it incredibly bland and often want to put salt or sugar in it.   The rest of breakfast consists of an assortment of stir fried vegetables and meat.  Sometimes, depending on the hotel, there are sausages, potatoes, and options for cooked eggs, noodles, and dumplings.  The breakfast, though, at this particular hotel is fairly limited and I often cannot eat several of the dishes because of my food allergies.

I was actually pleasantly surprised to see some wide rice noodles, which I knew I could have and some vegetables.  I put a reasonable serving on my plate and sat down to eat. 

My white, curly hair framing my very foreign face has been known to stop people in their tracks and cause them to simply stare at me.  I’ve pretty much gotten used to it and simply ignore the person.  Or, I’ll smile at them and say, “ni hao” (Chinese for “hello.”).  There was a middle-aged Chinese couple sitting in the breakfast room and when I walked by, they began to stare and wouldn’t look away. 

I could see they were staring, but I picked up my chopsticks and began to eat.  Nancy, said, “ni hao” as she could see they were staring.  At that, the couple starting talking to us in Chinese.  Nancy sat down.  We looked at them, smiled, and said we didn’t speak Chinese – just English.  That didn’t stop them.!  They kept right on talking.  So with a bit of personal translation, here’s the gist of the conversation based on my “body language/non-verbal” interpretation thrown in for good measure …

CM (Chinese man):  Gesturing with his hand – “Wow, you can use chopsticks!  I’ve never seen a foreigner use chopsticks before.  Amazing!”

Me:  “Yes, I can use chopsticks.”

CW(Chinese woman):  Gets up and comes over to our table.  “It’s true you can use chopsticks, but your technique could use some improvement.”  Points to rice noodles on my plate.  “See those rice noodles, you need to get down closer.”  Bends down and puts face close to my plate, establishes eye contact, imitates chopstick to mouth motion.  “If you get your mouth closer to the plate, you will do a better job of eating those rice noodles. 

Me:  Personally, I thought I was doing pretty good.  I hadn’t dropped one.  “Yes, I know, but I’m doing the best I can.”

CW:  “Just how old are you?  You have white hair, but your face doesn’t look so old.”  She is gesturing with her hand to indicate a number. 

Me:  I pull out a piece of paper and pen and write, “64.”

CW:  “Really!  I can’t believe it!”

Me:  “How old are you?”  I hand her the pen and move the paper towards her. 

CW:  Writes, 50.

Me:  I look at her unbelieving.  She’s dying her hair black and her face is much more wrinkled than mine.  Chinese life is hard! "I know it's hard to believe I'm only 64 and have such white hair."

CW:  “Is this all you are going to eat for breakfast?”  Grabs my arm and squeezes it.  Then shows me her arm, which is smaller and laughs.  “You silly American.  Look at you.  Your arm is bigger than mine and you eat so little.  Ha ha!  I can eat more and am littler than you.”  Goes and sits down.

Me:  “It’s China.”  Finish eating my breakfast.

Today, our young friend, Emma, joined us.  She’s been our interpreter for 4 years and thinks of us as her American grandma’s (poppo).  Several older women stopped to talk to us.  From Emma we learned they wanted to hear us speak English as they have never heard a foreigner talk.  They are simply curious.  Older people, especially, have rarely seen foreigners.  Such is life in China.