A Collage

In this blog I promised to reflect on the culture and the people here in China, and I don’t believe I’ve lived up to that promise yet. It’s so easy to get caught up in the day to day surface activities of my own life here because everything is still a novelty to me. Just this past week I tried something new almost everyday:

Monday: Badminton with some teachers at my school; Muay Thai (Thailand style boxing) with a friend
Tuesday: Tai Chi followed by a game of Ping Pong
Wednesday: Indian food in China
Thursday: Making dumplings (jiaozi) for the first time; Eating and making my dumplings with a Chinese family at their home
Friday: Nothing new except the new Chinese words I learned in class
Saturday: BBQ Chinese style with some newly made Chinese friends
Sunday: Going to the beach in Yantian

All of these activities offered a glimpse into Chinese culture, and I have not failed to notice. I have just failed to piece together the significance of these glimpses to me as a foreigner, an American, a fellow human being, an outsider trying to become an insider.

All I have now is a collage to offer of these random glimpses that I have caught as I’ve wandered and bumped along on this journey. Here are just a few from last week.

***

Mid-day heat on the way to Chinese class in downtown Louhu, I see a woman sitting on the ground, baby in her lap, picking out scraps of food from a tilted trashcan and eating the scraps piece by piece.

Late night, sitting in a bus with Autumn, my new English-speaking Chinese friend, after a day of wandering through “The People’s Park” and cooking BBQ with her friends: We talk about jobs. I tell her that I would choose family and friends over my job. She doesn’t understand. I tell her I would also choose a job I believed in over a job that just made me a lot of money. She doesn’t understand. I use a plastic surgeon, who makes his living telling people they are ugly, as an example of a job I could never do despite the good money. She doesn’t understand. She says she wishes she had my eyes and my nose. She doesn’t like her own.

Noon, I’m walking through the crowded streets of Dongmen—the discount shopping district in downtown Shenzhen. I clutch my bag close to my body as to avoid being easy prey for thieves. My friend Meaghan and I wait at the bus station for the number 103 bus to the beach. The 103 comes. It’s too crowded for us to squeeze onto. Luckily another 103 comes minutes later, and we even manage to grab a seat for the 40 minute ride. I look out the window at the crowds pushing their way into various shops. My God, I can’t believe this is a communist country with its hordes of shoppers and shops.

Later on the bus back from the beach, Meaghan and I stare out the window at more masses of people. Meaghan: “There are so many damn people here.” I agree. Then we hypothesize that much of Chinese culture is shaped by the fact that there are so many damn people. Meaghan: “Democracy could never work here. Can you imagine 1.3 billion people voting?” Me: My mind flashes to Orwell’s 1984 and the term “groupthink,” then to Mao, then to a comment made by my contact teacher Elli—“We don’t get to vote. We just watch what happens on our television.”

Wandering through “The People’s Park,” we come across a huge bust of Mao Zedong in a red and green pagoda. People are taking pictures by the statue. I think, why not, it seems like a very Chinese thing to do. I ask one of Autumn’s friends—Mabel, a soft-spoken Chinese girl with glasses—to get in the picture with me. First words out of her mouth: “I don’t like Mao.” Suddenly I feel ashamed. “I don’t like Mao either,” I say. We take the picture anyway.

Early morning, maybe 7am. I’m awoken by a jackhammer and a drill somewhere in the vicinity of my apartment. I fall back to sleep somehow. I’m startled out of a deep sleep again by the sound of a jet engine flying over my school. I have the unsteady notion that it’s a fighter jet and my stomach twinges with fear. Half awake, half dreaming I imagine a sky full of fighter jets like an old World War II movie clip. Suddenly I’m awake, and all I can hear is the drill.

1 pm: I’m lying on the rocky sand beach under a hazy afternoon sky. I glance around at the other people on the beach. I see a few men wearing bathing suits, but most people are fully clothed. Then my glance falls on a middle-aged Chinese man about 100 meters away sitting with his wife and child on some steps. In the next moment he has a camera to his eye pointing it directly at me and my friend Meaghan as we lie on our towels in our bikinis. I look away and pretend not to notice. Meaghan waves. I wish I had her bravado. Then again she’s been here for a year, and she’s learned to deal with the attention in her own way.

Around 10am, I walk into Starbucks for some coffee. It is filled with Westerners. I pretend not to notice them, and they pretend not to notice me. No matter how hard I pretend, I can still feel their presence. My coffee is ready. Real coffee is a nice break from the instant stuff. I walk out of Starbucks and back into China.

Standing in the Metro waiting for the train, I notice a middle-aged white man—balding, slight pudge, glasses, plaid shirt—with his arms around a Chinese woman. This sight is nothing new. I see it all the time—a white man, a Chinese woman. I think about how I never see a Chinese man with a white girl.

Speed walking through the metro station in my workout clothes trying to make it to Muay Thai class on time, a young Chinese guy walking towards me suddenly ducks down right in front of me and walks knees bent with his hand held over his head making fun of my height. No doubt my short workout shorts make me look even taller than normal, but really, was that necessary? I’m torn between bewilderment and anger. I suddenly wish I knew some curse words in Chinese. I don’t, so I ignore him and anxiously anticipate the two hour Muay Thai boxing session.

***

Just from last week, these images have stuck in my mind as possible pieces to a larger puzzle that I hope to put together down the road. For now, though, they are just images collaged in a haphazard manner on the wall of my mind.