What are You Looking at?

In my American independence-driven mind, I’ve always hated the attentive sales person. “I can decide what I want to buy for myself, thank you very much! When I need you, I will ask.” This is not a good attitude to have while in China, unless you plan on never shopping or going mad while doing so. Last night I neared the latter state of mind as I shopped on the bustling streets of Dongmen. Imagine street after street of little shops the size of most closets selling clothing, jewelry, bags, shoes, designer knock-offs, and whatever else you can imagine.
Now imagine that you are not Asian, and you are casually walking down these streets trying to browse through these little shops. The inevitable result: stares, Chinglish “hellos!” and bombardment. Within two seconds of walking into the store, there is a sales attendant literally six inches from you staring at you as you finger through the racks. If you are lucky, they will not also finger through the racks for you, but most of the time you will not be so lucky.
I had already experienced this in a smaller way in Zhuhai, but I was more forgiving since I was in my “honeymoon” period there. In Zhuhai I was just amazed at the number of employees in every business—attendants in every aisle of the grocery store, waiters at restaurants who refilled your glass every time you took a sip and hotel employees who opened doors and carried you luggage at moments notice.
Sigh. Now I glare at my hotel’s doorman who insists on walking with me to the elevator, pushing the button, and then creepily selecting my floor number once the elevator doors open. There is only so much “attendance” I can handle, and yesterday I began to reach my limit and dip into the “hostility” phase of cultural adjustment.
I’m not typically this negative, but adjusting from a country where staring is not polite and personal-space bubbles are closer to two feet than six inches is not easy. My reactions aren’t always hostile. In fact most times I just have to laugh at the differences and think “oh, China, only here.” For example, yesterday while walking towards downtown with one of my American friends, a Chinese man pushing a run down car off the busy highway rubber-necked it several times to stare at us while still pushing the car. Not even the weight of a car or the fear of speeding traffic can prevent the stare—oh, China.