This is too good not to write about.
This week I’m doing a lesson for my grade 4 primary school kids on Thanksgiving, of course, since it is on Thursday. One of my activities is called the “Thankful Turkey.” Basically I draw a huge turkey on the board with words “I am thankful for…” on its belly, and then the kids come write things they are thankful for on the turkey’s tail feathers.
The answers began pretty standard. I am thankful for my family, my mother, my father, my grandpa (surprisingly no grandma’s yet), my teacher, specifically Miss Lori, my dog, food etc. Then they progressed to things like psp (video game), basketball, and computers. Then they jumped into politics—my country, China, Hu Jintao, Deng Xiaoping (remember these kids are 10). Finally it just turned silly. I am thankful for the W.C./toilet. So overall, I think the turkey was a pretty thankful one by the end of the class.
Today after this lesson, one of the boys came up to me and proudly showed me the notes he had taken from my power point. Then he asked me to sign my name. I figured he just wanted to see how it was written. My first mistake: I signed in cursive. He thought it was so cool he wanted me to do it again. Before I had time to respond, the girl standing next to him shoved her notebook and a pen in my face. Second mistake: I signed hers as well. Next thing I knew a flood of notebooks and pens were being shoved in my face. I couldn’t refuse them after they had just watched me sign the other two, so I began a notebook signing session. Although, I could barely sign because the kids were pushing each other trying to see who could get their notebook closest to my face. In the midst of the chaos one of the little girls kept saying, “Miss Lori you are a superstar.”
After months of mentioning the fact that I now have some sympathy for celebrities who have to constantly deal with random people staring at them and taking their picture, I finally really have sympathy for them. Nevertheless, it was extremely amusing watching them struggle just to get their teacher to sign four letters on their paper. I guess I should be thankful that my students see me as a celebrity as opposed to the random person forcing them to sit in a classroom for 40 minutes. Most teachers have to work to win over their students; I just write my name. Every teacher should be so lucky.
So that leads me into the entry that I intended to write for Thanksgiving:
10 Things I’m Thankful for while here in China:
1.) Chinese hospitality – I have never met people who are so willing to go out of their way to help you (note the earlier entry about Autumn, the Chinese girl who helped me buy a bus ticket). They are so hospitable that they make the Southern United States look lame. They willingly share everything. If a teacher in my office is eating fruit, she offers me the biggest piece. If I go out to eat with a Chinese person, I never pay no matter how much I insist. They really know how to take care of their guests.
2.) Skype – yay for technology that allows me to communicate with my family and friends at home. I couldn’t have done this 30 years ago, and for those that did (like my dad when he went to the coastguard), I commend you.
3.) My Students – Yes, there is the occasional bad kid, but for the most part they are great. Since I teach primary, the kids are at the age where they still love their teachers, and they haven’t reached the “I’m too cool for school” stage. They say hello to me everyday with huge smiles on their faces.
4.) My Chinese dictionary and my Chinese speaking friends – Hand motions only get you so far.
5.) Cheap prices:
a. Bottle of Water – 2.5 Yuan ($0.37)
b. DVDs – 10 Yuan ($1.50)
c. One hour Full Body Massage – 48 Yuan ($7)
d. Hair cut, style and massage – 40 Yuan ($6)
6.) Bargaining - There is nothing more satisfying than realizing you have power over the salesperson. No fixed, cold, unflinching prices here. Here it’s “give me the price I want or I walk away,” and it is always satisfying seeing the defeated salesperson run after you saying “Ok! Ok! I give you!”
7.) Crazy random fashion – I think you can wear anything here in any combination and no one will look at you funny—stripes and plaid, stockings as pants, glitter on everything, furry vests, boots with capris, shirts with misspelled English words—you name it they wear it.
8.) Nap time – I get off of work at 12:00 and I don’t have to be back until 2:30. My contact teacher informed me that this time is for eating, resting, and taking naps. This is brilliant because it makes the second half of the day so much better.
9.) Eating Family Style – There are no individual meals here. Someone just orders several dishes for the whole table, and we share. This eating style is good for several reasons: a) food variety b) you eat smaller portions (also because their dishes are smaller) c) for indecisive eaters like me, you don’t have to decide on one dish.
10.)Translation Funnies – I could make a fortune correcting English grammar, spelling, and syntax on Chinese business and government signs. We foreigners here in China affectionately refer to these translation mistakes as “Chinglish.” Not that I can blame the Chinese for these mistakes since they are attempting to use English—a gesture I appreciate, and since I know the languages are so grammatically different. Someone just needs to tell them not to trust translation websites. But until then, I plan to have a blast collecting pictures of various signs such as “Fire Fighter Jury Exciter Lamp” and “Here Contes All People’s Caze.”
10 Things I am now thankful for in America:
1.) Freedom and democracy – I am thankful that we have the ability to vote for our president. During the election, so many Chinese people around me were talking about the election as if it were in their own country. Most wanted Obama to win. For them our election was much more exciting to talk about than their own because the result all depended on the people. During their election, as my contact teacher pointed out, they don’t care because all they can do is “find out the result.”
2.) Diversity– I am now thankful for the variety of everything in America – food, people, backgrounds, TV shows, movies, etc.
3.) Schedules, appointments, and Calendars – I never thought I would miss these things, but when every answer you are given begins with a “Maybe” and may or may not be true, it starts to get a little frustrating to someone who plans her calendar months in advance. Here in China, make sure you write every appointment, deadline, schedule, etc. in pencil because it will most likely change at least two times before it comes to pass.
4.) Paper Products – I’m all for saving trees, but I miss not having to remember to bring napkins, toilet paper, and Kleenex everywhere with me.
5.) Public Bathrooms that don’t require you to squat – Let’s just say that when you’ve walked around all day on the hot China streets eating the not so digestible food, the last thing you want to do is use the disgusting public bathroom that requires you to use every last ounce of energy in your already aching quad muscles to squat over a hole in the ground. Enough said!
6.) Clothes Dryers - (and clothes washers that work) – My clothes are now twice their original size, and they have not smelt clean since I wore them the first time. I am now in a desperate search for a belt to hold up my pants and some Febreeze to take away the lingering musty/sweaty smell left from hand-washing and air-drying.
7.) Not feeling like a celebrity – As stated above, I completely sympathize with celebrities now, as I have to deal with people staring at me, taking pictures of me, and yelling “hello” everywhere I go.
8.) Meat without Bones – Every piece of meat I’ve eaten here seems to be from some mysterious part of the cow, pig, or chicken where there is mostly bone and a little meat. I have no idea what they do with the nice cuts of meat—the filet, the pork loin, the chicken breast, etc. I know forks and knives aren’t the forte here, but I will use my hands if necessary, people! Everyone already spits bones all over the table as they eat, so I don’t think a nice chunk of meat is too much to ask for.
9.) Space – Stores are the size of closets. Classrooms are the size of a typical U.S. classroom but with 60 people. Buses are always packed. Cars are everywhere. People are everywhere. I need a big open field.
10.)My Family – This is my first Thanksgiving away from home, and while I usually am not that excited about a day spent entertaining younger cousins, recapping a year in one dinner conversation with my relatives, and trying to ward off boredom and sleepiness after dinner, I wish I could this year. I, of course, miss the food, but I find myself missing the little things I never noticed before. I miss the feeling of being surrounded by a group of people who love you just because you are a part of them. I miss seeing how much my younger cousins have grown and changed over the past year. I miss commiserating with my sister when we get bored. I miss sitting on my Papaw’s lap like I’m still ten years old. I miss all of these things, but I am thankful that I am not there this year because now I realize just how important these things are to me.
These lists may be random, but they are all the little and big things that first popped into my mind when contemplating what I am thankful for. It doesn’t take long to think of something you are thankful for, but it is interesting to see how your situation changes what you are thankful for. Ultimately I’m thankful for this experience in China. It has given me the chance to change and broaden my perspective so that I can be thankful for all the things I’ve taken for granted over the years.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
I am Thankful for...
China Loves Food
I wrote the following entry my last semester in college as I was preparing for my year here in China. Since it is almost Thanksgiving in America, I thought this entry on food would be appropriate. After living here, I have found that it is mostly accurate in defining the Chinese relationship with food. Now, just so you don’t think I’m being lazy by inserting this old article, after being here for three months, I do have some observations to add on to the end of this entry.
"Fashion is in Europe, living is in America, but eating is in China"
I didn’t have to dig very deep in Chinese culture to realize the importance of food. Americans are very good at eating a lot of food, but for the Chinese food is more than just something to satisfy hunger or pleasure. Food for the Chinese is symbolic; it is emotional; it is ritualistic; it is curative; it is spiritual; it is even political. Food cannot just be eaten; it must be eaten the right way. We talk about the need to eat healthy in America, but the importance of food to one’s health is almost a form of religion in China. After reading numerous articles about food in China, I now understand what my Chinese friend here at Centenary meant when she said that in China, food is eaten mainly for its nutritional value—the more nutritious, the more of a delicacy it is. When she was describing this concept she mentioned two dishes which fall into this delicacy category: shark fin soup and bird’s nest soup. I didn’t quite understand at the time why these two dishes were seen as particularly nutritious until I ran into this statement in Kathy Lin’s article about Chinese food and culture:
“Chinese culture believes that "yi xing bu xing," which means by using any shape or part of the animal the same part of the human body can be replenished and strengthened. For example, shark fin soup and bird nest soup (bird's saliva) is served to replenish strength and increase appetite, crocodile meat strengthens the bronchia, dehydrated tiger testicle increases stamina for men, while monkey brains add wisdom. These foods are considered to be delicacies and tonics.”
From my American perspective, I don’t know if replenishing my strength and appetite is worth eating bird’s saliva. On the other hand, at least the Chinese have a practical reason for eating what they eat whereas many Americans just eat because it tastes good, which sounds indulgent and unnatural.
There is another Chinese food concept that meshes a little better with my American background and that is the idea of a balanced diet. Of course, balance for the Chinese is at a whole different level than the idea of balance found in America. Central to the preparation of food in China is the idea of balance between Yin and Yang. Kathy Lin says in her article:
Chinese culture believes there is a positive energy and a negative energy in the universe. "Yin" represents negative energy and "yang" represents positive energy.3 They have to be equally balanced to create a harmonious and healthy state, otherwise, conflict and disease will be created.
The result is that Chinese food is often a combination of both sweet and spicy elements in order to promote balance. Also similar to this idea is the “division between fan, grains and other starch foods, and ts’ai, vegetable and meat dishes. To prepare a balanced meal, it must have an appropriate amount of both fan and ts'ai” (Chang). The Chinese believe that the balancing of these elements is not only essential to physical health, but also mental health. Eating food the right way leads to healthier and happier lives and relationships with those around you. Kathy Lin points out that the “Chinese not only enjoy eating but believe eating good food can bring harmony and closeness to the family and relationships.”
This statement about the importance of food to family reminds me of a 1994 movie I watched directed by Ang Lee, an Academy Award-winning film director from Taiwan, called “Eat, Drink, Man, Woman.” The opening scene of the movie takes place in modern Taipei, Taiwan, in the home of an older man who is meticulously preparing a traditional Chinese meal. Later, we discover that he is a former master chef and a widower with three grown daughters, and this meal is in preparation for their dinner together. However the dinners are not scenes of harmony and closeness that they are supposed to be. The father, Chu, has begun to lose touch with his three grown and mostly independent daughters, which is symbolized by the fact that he has begun to lose his sense of taste as well. The dinner, as a result, reflects the disharmony within the family. With age, the loss of his wife, the growing independence of his daughters, and the failing health of his best friends, Chu begins to question the foundation of existence—love and food. He says at one point to his best friend, “Eat, drink, man, woman. Basic human desires. Can't avoid them. All my life, that's all I’ve ever done. It pisses me off. Is that all there is to life?” The result of this loss of faith in food, family, and love, is reflected in the meals he prepares.
Another theme that adds to the disharmony in the family is the clashing of the traditions of the past and the modernization of the present. Chu lives in a traditional courtyard style home that is rare among all of the new apartment complexes where most of the younger generation lives. His daughters, who are part of this younger generation, especially represent this modernization. The oldest daughter has become a Christian, a recently new development in China. The middle daughter works at a big corporation, and is in the process of buying her own apartment. The youngest daughter works at the fast-food chain—a far cry from her father’s traditional Chinese restaurant. Despite these differences, between past and present, however, there is a sense that the younger generation still values the cooking traditions of the past. This is represented in the middle daughter, who loves to cook just like her father. By the end of the movie, through her love of cooking and her love for her father, she is able to bring back his sense of taste with her soup. She discovers a balance between the old and the new, and finally brings the family into harmony once again. More than half of the scenes in the movie involve food, and the movie begins with food and ends with food. There is no way to overlook the importance of food in Chinese society after watching this movie.
References:
Lin, Kathy. “Chinese Food Cultural Profile.” Ed. Nadine Chan. Harborview Medical Center/University of Washington. Seattle, 2000. 1 May 2008..
Chang, K.C. Food in Chinese Culture: Anthropological and Historical Perspectives, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1977. 1 May 2008<>.
After living here for three months, I have seen proof of this obsession over food. One of the first compliments I received from the other Chinese teachers at my school: We like you much better than last year’s teacher. You eat Chinese food. She did not like Chinese food. We all like you very much. So, I passed the likeness test with flying colors because I could stomach seaweed soup, oily vegetables, and unknown pieces of chicken. That is the power of food. Next I learned that “Ni chi le ma?” (have you eaten) is a common greeting akin to the American “how are you?” because it just a manner of checking up on how you are doing. It doesn’t really imply that you want the person to go to dinner with you if they have not eaten; it is just a way to check on a person’s wellbeing. My Chinese class teacher informed us that not too long ago, probably during her grandparents’ generation, many people in China were starving. So, to ask someone “have you eaten (today)” was a way to check up on them.
My Chinese class teacher also informed us as we were going over the “at a restaurant” chapter of our Chinese book that “Chinese people eat anything that walks, swims, flies, crawls…we eat everything.” I don’t know if this stems from the starvation factor, but I sure hope so. Why else would you eat a dung beetle or stinky tofu (trust me you never want to smell the stuff)? Of course there is the “it’s good for your health” explanation. I hear it everyday. Eat your seaweed; it’s good for your skin. Eat the pig feet; they are good for your complexion. Eat the bitter melon; it keeps you from getting sick. I could go on, but I will spare you. Every single dish has some sort of health explanation behind it.
The average Chinese person may not preach about balance and the yin and yang of food, but they all have the staunch belief that all Chinese food is in some way beneficial to your health. As for Western food, they see it as junk food that is bad for your health because their concept of Western food is McDonald’s and KFC. Junk food or not, McDonald’s and KFC are on every street corner, and Chinese people love them. I guess everyone needs to be unhealthy every once in a while.
I thought about what Chinese people would think of the food we brought for our potluck Thanksgiving dinner Sunday night. Would they think it was health food or junk food? Would we pass the yin and yang test? I think probably not when I envision my plate full of mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, bread, green beans, turkey, cranberry sauce, macaroni and cheese, cookies, cheesecake, ice cream…and I don’t remember the rest. Since I’m in China, though, I would like to pretend that each dish has its unscientifically proven benefits. Let’s see, WWCS? (What Would the Chinese Say?)…eating mashed potatoes is good for your teeth, sweet potatoes are good for your sore throat, stuffing is good for your stomach, green beans are good for your hair, turkey is good for your skin, cranberry sauce is good for your complexion, macaroni and cheese is good for your immune system, and eating cookies, cheesecake and ice cream is good for your big toe. Whew! I don’t know how they come up with so many health explanations. That’s probably why half the things I eat are good for my skin and the other half are good for my hair. Sadly my hair and skin have not miraculously changed since eating seaweed soup three times a week.
So maybe our Thanksgiving food would not pass the health test, but I think the Chinese would understand the gathering of a family over a big meal. We are alike in that way. We both know that good food brings people together. So all of you back home make sure to chow down on your turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce over Thanksgiving dinner with family and friends while I sit down to my pig feet, rice, and seaweed soup with my fellow Chinese teachers.
"Fashion is in Europe, living is in America, but eating is in China"
I didn’t have to dig very deep in Chinese culture to realize the importance of food. Americans are very good at eating a lot of food, but for the Chinese food is more than just something to satisfy hunger or pleasure. Food for the Chinese is symbolic; it is emotional; it is ritualistic; it is curative; it is spiritual; it is even political. Food cannot just be eaten; it must be eaten the right way. We talk about the need to eat healthy in America, but the importance of food to one’s health is almost a form of religion in China. After reading numerous articles about food in China, I now understand what my Chinese friend here at Centenary meant when she said that in China, food is eaten mainly for its nutritional value—the more nutritious, the more of a delicacy it is. When she was describing this concept she mentioned two dishes which fall into this delicacy category: shark fin soup and bird’s nest soup. I didn’t quite understand at the time why these two dishes were seen as particularly nutritious until I ran into this statement in Kathy Lin’s article about Chinese food and culture:
“Chinese culture believes that "yi xing bu xing," which means by using any shape or part of the animal the same part of the human body can be replenished and strengthened. For example, shark fin soup and bird nest soup (bird's saliva) is served to replenish strength and increase appetite, crocodile meat strengthens the bronchia, dehydrated tiger testicle increases stamina for men, while monkey brains add wisdom. These foods are considered to be delicacies and tonics.”
From my American perspective, I don’t know if replenishing my strength and appetite is worth eating bird’s saliva. On the other hand, at least the Chinese have a practical reason for eating what they eat whereas many Americans just eat because it tastes good, which sounds indulgent and unnatural.
There is another Chinese food concept that meshes a little better with my American background and that is the idea of a balanced diet. Of course, balance for the Chinese is at a whole different level than the idea of balance found in America. Central to the preparation of food in China is the idea of balance between Yin and Yang. Kathy Lin says in her article:
Chinese culture believes there is a positive energy and a negative energy in the universe. "Yin" represents negative energy and "yang" represents positive energy.3 They have to be equally balanced to create a harmonious and healthy state, otherwise, conflict and disease will be created.
The result is that Chinese food is often a combination of both sweet and spicy elements in order to promote balance. Also similar to this idea is the “division between fan, grains and other starch foods, and ts’ai, vegetable and meat dishes. To prepare a balanced meal, it must have an appropriate amount of both fan and ts'ai” (Chang). The Chinese believe that the balancing of these elements is not only essential to physical health, but also mental health. Eating food the right way leads to healthier and happier lives and relationships with those around you. Kathy Lin points out that the “Chinese not only enjoy eating but believe eating good food can bring harmony and closeness to the family and relationships.”
This statement about the importance of food to family reminds me of a 1994 movie I watched directed by Ang Lee, an Academy Award-winning film director from Taiwan, called “Eat, Drink, Man, Woman.” The opening scene of the movie takes place in modern Taipei, Taiwan, in the home of an older man who is meticulously preparing a traditional Chinese meal. Later, we discover that he is a former master chef and a widower with three grown daughters, and this meal is in preparation for their dinner together. However the dinners are not scenes of harmony and closeness that they are supposed to be. The father, Chu, has begun to lose touch with his three grown and mostly independent daughters, which is symbolized by the fact that he has begun to lose his sense of taste as well. The dinner, as a result, reflects the disharmony within the family. With age, the loss of his wife, the growing independence of his daughters, and the failing health of his best friends, Chu begins to question the foundation of existence—love and food. He says at one point to his best friend, “Eat, drink, man, woman. Basic human desires. Can't avoid them. All my life, that's all I’ve ever done. It pisses me off. Is that all there is to life?” The result of this loss of faith in food, family, and love, is reflected in the meals he prepares.
Another theme that adds to the disharmony in the family is the clashing of the traditions of the past and the modernization of the present. Chu lives in a traditional courtyard style home that is rare among all of the new apartment complexes where most of the younger generation lives. His daughters, who are part of this younger generation, especially represent this modernization. The oldest daughter has become a Christian, a recently new development in China. The middle daughter works at a big corporation, and is in the process of buying her own apartment. The youngest daughter works at the fast-food chain—a far cry from her father’s traditional Chinese restaurant. Despite these differences, between past and present, however, there is a sense that the younger generation still values the cooking traditions of the past. This is represented in the middle daughter, who loves to cook just like her father. By the end of the movie, through her love of cooking and her love for her father, she is able to bring back his sense of taste with her soup. She discovers a balance between the old and the new, and finally brings the family into harmony once again. More than half of the scenes in the movie involve food, and the movie begins with food and ends with food. There is no way to overlook the importance of food in Chinese society after watching this movie.
References:
Lin, Kathy. “Chinese Food Cultural Profile.” Ed. Nadine Chan. Harborview Medical Center/University of Washington. Seattle, 2000. 1 May 2008.
Chang, K.C. Food in Chinese Culture: Anthropological and Historical Perspectives, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1977. 1 May 2008<>.
After living here for three months, I have seen proof of this obsession over food. One of the first compliments I received from the other Chinese teachers at my school: We like you much better than last year’s teacher. You eat Chinese food. She did not like Chinese food. We all like you very much. So, I passed the likeness test with flying colors because I could stomach seaweed soup, oily vegetables, and unknown pieces of chicken. That is the power of food. Next I learned that “Ni chi le ma?” (have you eaten) is a common greeting akin to the American “how are you?” because it just a manner of checking up on how you are doing. It doesn’t really imply that you want the person to go to dinner with you if they have not eaten; it is just a way to check on a person’s wellbeing. My Chinese class teacher informed us that not too long ago, probably during her grandparents’ generation, many people in China were starving. So, to ask someone “have you eaten (today)” was a way to check up on them.
My Chinese class teacher also informed us as we were going over the “at a restaurant” chapter of our Chinese book that “Chinese people eat anything that walks, swims, flies, crawls…we eat everything.” I don’t know if this stems from the starvation factor, but I sure hope so. Why else would you eat a dung beetle or stinky tofu (trust me you never want to smell the stuff)? Of course there is the “it’s good for your health” explanation. I hear it everyday. Eat your seaweed; it’s good for your skin. Eat the pig feet; they are good for your complexion. Eat the bitter melon; it keeps you from getting sick. I could go on, but I will spare you. Every single dish has some sort of health explanation behind it.
The average Chinese person may not preach about balance and the yin and yang of food, but they all have the staunch belief that all Chinese food is in some way beneficial to your health. As for Western food, they see it as junk food that is bad for your health because their concept of Western food is McDonald’s and KFC. Junk food or not, McDonald’s and KFC are on every street corner, and Chinese people love them. I guess everyone needs to be unhealthy every once in a while.
I thought about what Chinese people would think of the food we brought for our potluck Thanksgiving dinner Sunday night. Would they think it was health food or junk food? Would we pass the yin and yang test? I think probably not when I envision my plate full of mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, bread, green beans, turkey, cranberry sauce, macaroni and cheese, cookies, cheesecake, ice cream…and I don’t remember the rest. Since I’m in China, though, I would like to pretend that each dish has its unscientifically proven benefits. Let’s see, WWCS? (What Would the Chinese Say?)…eating mashed potatoes is good for your teeth, sweet potatoes are good for your sore throat, stuffing is good for your stomach, green beans are good for your hair, turkey is good for your skin, cranberry sauce is good for your complexion, macaroni and cheese is good for your immune system, and eating cookies, cheesecake and ice cream is good for your big toe. Whew! I don’t know how they come up with so many health explanations. That’s probably why half the things I eat are good for my skin and the other half are good for my hair. Sadly my hair and skin have not miraculously changed since eating seaweed soup three times a week.
So maybe our Thanksgiving food would not pass the health test, but I think the Chinese would understand the gathering of a family over a big meal. We are alike in that way. We both know that good food brings people together. So all of you back home make sure to chow down on your turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce over Thanksgiving dinner with family and friends while I sit down to my pig feet, rice, and seaweed soup with my fellow Chinese teachers.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Hong Kong and Back
After the chaos, some order was nice.
I went to Hong Kong this past weekend and witnessed people waiting in line and people obeying traffic laws. I saw efficiency everywhere from the metro design to the layout of buildings and restaurants. There were even more people and more crowds in Hong Kong than in Shenzhen, but the rivers of crowds moved seamlessly. I felt less need to push. I was free to just flow with the crowd.
The crowds were also filled with foreigners. I didn’t go a single place where my friends and I were the only foreign faces in the crowd. This meant no leering, no staring, and no pointing. I threw my self-consciousness away and soaked up every moment of anonymity with joy. Finally, I thought, freedom from my foreign face.
These two freedoms from chaos and conspicuousness had their price, however. With order comes rules, and at times I found myself frustrated with their abundance. Why do I have to wait until the light says I can walk when there are no cars coming? Why can’t I eat or drink on the metro? I missed the freedom to bend the rules in chaotic Shenzhen. Even conspicuousness has its benefits in Shenzhen. Conspicuousness sometimes brings privilege and ease. Our foreign faces bring us attention in Shenzhen, but they also bring us help. If we look lost, people notice. They also help us easily find each other in a crowd. We were no longer special, and therefore on our own.
Being on our own wasn’t so bad though. Order in the form of the extensive metro made Hong Kong easy enough to navigate, and Western comforts like air-conditioning, Western-style toilets, Starbuck’s on every corner, spacious department stores with Western sizes, and shops with bagels, scones, and sandwiches made up for any losses.
Most of our frustration was due to our own bad planning. It took us half the day on Saturday to actually begin our activities. We came with way too many people—there were 10 of us at one point. So, the first half was spent getting through customs, exchanging our RMB for Hong Kong dollars, meeting up with one of our friends who had forgotten her passport, and finding a hostel to stay in for the night. Finally by about 2:00 we were ready to sight see. Most of us, including myself, were immediately distracted by the abundance of shopping and headed to H&M in our excitement at finding Western sizes. The crowds, long dressing room lines, and the price of the clothing deterred me from buying anything, but a few of my friends managed some purchases.
Another annoying factor in our planning was the fact that only one of us had a Hong Kong cell phone SIM card. So we had no way of contacting one another if we got separated. This turned out to be a problem in the huge H&M store. We had set up a time to meet with our non-shopping friends at a certain metro stop, but the combo of shopping, crowds and our lack of knowledge about the city delayed our reunion. So, another wasted hour later we finally regrouped and headed to dinner and the outdoor markets.
The outdoor markets include rows and rows of outdoor stalls adjacent to jam packed neon lit streets. The neon lights were so bright it looked like day and gave the crowded streets a strange electric quality. People looked like 3-D computer projections with the brightness setting too high. After sauntering along the neon-lit stalls for an hour or so, we still hadn’t had our fill of the lights and headed towards the bay to watch the lighting of the skyscrapers, which begins every night at 8pm. The buildings across the incredible skyline light up in unison while symphonic tunes played over a loudspeaker near a huge courtyard lined with Hollywood boulevard style stars in the sidewalk overlooking the Tsim Sha Tsui waterfront.
After we had our fill of lights, music, the skyline, and pictures in front of a Bruce Lee statue, we headed back to our hostel to change our clothes for a night on the town. Our friend Serena, who has lived in Hong Kong before, took us to a street filled with bars which were overflowing with foreigners. She took us to a great bar with live music that we recognized (yay, no more techno!). So, we happily danced the night away.
The next morning we headed to a temple to “shake sticks,” as Serena calls it, and get our fortune’s told. You take a cup filled with flat bamboo sticks that are each numbered. Then you kneel on a mat in front of an altar, along with the fifty other people lined up in front of the altar, and think hard about a question you would like to ask the soothsayer while shaking the cup until a single stick falls out. The number on your stick is the key to your fortune. Once you have your number you return the sticks and head to one of the hundreds of booths with soothsayers sitting behind them.
We finally decided to stop at a booth with a cute old lady sitting behind it. We soon found out she had been fortune telling for 60 years. She pointed to an old photograph of her mother and grandmother sitting at a table on the street. They had also both been fortune tellers, and the bench sitting near her booth was the same one in the photograph that her mother and grandmother’s customers use to sit on while getting their fortune’s told. Serena served as our translator, and one by one we told the old lady our numbers and our questions.
My number: 78
My question: Will I/Should I work in China next year or will I/should I go home to America?
Her Interpretation: You are very stressed and worried. You need to relax, travel with your friends, and go with the flow (Some story about Confucius was told here but it was lost in translation).
Her Prediction: You will never make a lot of money, but you will be happy.
Great, I thought, she unfortunately confirmed what I already knew. I was secretly hoping she would give me an answer like you will stay in China and make a great fortune or you will go home next year and find happiness. Instead she had to be so realistic and inconclusive. Keep in mind that the other three girls who got their fortune’s read asked similar questions, and she didn’t tell them they were stressed or would never make much money. Oh well, at least she didn’t say I would be poor and unhappy. It could be worse.
With our fortunes read, we felt it was time to go back to Shenzhen—back to the chaos of China, back home. It’s funny to think that Shenzhen feels so much more like home than such a Westernized place like Hong Kong, but it is true. I’ve grown accustomed to the chaos, the inefficiency, the randomness that is Shenzhen. It gets on my nerves at times, but I am glad that I live in Shenzhen and not in Hong Kong. Hong Kong is too normal, too ordered, too much like home. I wanted something different, something to make me stronger, something that would force me to understand another culture, and Shenzhen provides those needs. Shenzhen is China. Hong Kong is something else.
I went to Hong Kong this past weekend and witnessed people waiting in line and people obeying traffic laws. I saw efficiency everywhere from the metro design to the layout of buildings and restaurants. There were even more people and more crowds in Hong Kong than in Shenzhen, but the rivers of crowds moved seamlessly. I felt less need to push. I was free to just flow with the crowd.
The crowds were also filled with foreigners. I didn’t go a single place where my friends and I were the only foreign faces in the crowd. This meant no leering, no staring, and no pointing. I threw my self-consciousness away and soaked up every moment of anonymity with joy. Finally, I thought, freedom from my foreign face.
These two freedoms from chaos and conspicuousness had their price, however. With order comes rules, and at times I found myself frustrated with their abundance. Why do I have to wait until the light says I can walk when there are no cars coming? Why can’t I eat or drink on the metro? I missed the freedom to bend the rules in chaotic Shenzhen. Even conspicuousness has its benefits in Shenzhen. Conspicuousness sometimes brings privilege and ease. Our foreign faces bring us attention in Shenzhen, but they also bring us help. If we look lost, people notice. They also help us easily find each other in a crowd. We were no longer special, and therefore on our own.
Being on our own wasn’t so bad though. Order in the form of the extensive metro made Hong Kong easy enough to navigate, and Western comforts like air-conditioning, Western-style toilets, Starbuck’s on every corner, spacious department stores with Western sizes, and shops with bagels, scones, and sandwiches made up for any losses.
Most of our frustration was due to our own bad planning. It took us half the day on Saturday to actually begin our activities. We came with way too many people—there were 10 of us at one point. So, the first half was spent getting through customs, exchanging our RMB for Hong Kong dollars, meeting up with one of our friends who had forgotten her passport, and finding a hostel to stay in for the night. Finally by about 2:00 we were ready to sight see. Most of us, including myself, were immediately distracted by the abundance of shopping and headed to H&M in our excitement at finding Western sizes. The crowds, long dressing room lines, and the price of the clothing deterred me from buying anything, but a few of my friends managed some purchases.
Another annoying factor in our planning was the fact that only one of us had a Hong Kong cell phone SIM card. So we had no way of contacting one another if we got separated. This turned out to be a problem in the huge H&M store. We had set up a time to meet with our non-shopping friends at a certain metro stop, but the combo of shopping, crowds and our lack of knowledge about the city delayed our reunion. So, another wasted hour later we finally regrouped and headed to dinner and the outdoor markets.
The outdoor markets include rows and rows of outdoor stalls adjacent to jam packed neon lit streets. The neon lights were so bright it looked like day and gave the crowded streets a strange electric quality. People looked like 3-D computer projections with the brightness setting too high. After sauntering along the neon-lit stalls for an hour or so, we still hadn’t had our fill of the lights and headed towards the bay to watch the lighting of the skyscrapers, which begins every night at 8pm. The buildings across the incredible skyline light up in unison while symphonic tunes played over a loudspeaker near a huge courtyard lined with Hollywood boulevard style stars in the sidewalk overlooking the Tsim Sha Tsui waterfront.
After we had our fill of lights, music, the skyline, and pictures in front of a Bruce Lee statue, we headed back to our hostel to change our clothes for a night on the town. Our friend Serena, who has lived in Hong Kong before, took us to a street filled with bars which were overflowing with foreigners. She took us to a great bar with live music that we recognized (yay, no more techno!). So, we happily danced the night away.
The next morning we headed to a temple to “shake sticks,” as Serena calls it, and get our fortune’s told. You take a cup filled with flat bamboo sticks that are each numbered. Then you kneel on a mat in front of an altar, along with the fifty other people lined up in front of the altar, and think hard about a question you would like to ask the soothsayer while shaking the cup until a single stick falls out. The number on your stick is the key to your fortune. Once you have your number you return the sticks and head to one of the hundreds of booths with soothsayers sitting behind them.
We finally decided to stop at a booth with a cute old lady sitting behind it. We soon found out she had been fortune telling for 60 years. She pointed to an old photograph of her mother and grandmother sitting at a table on the street. They had also both been fortune tellers, and the bench sitting near her booth was the same one in the photograph that her mother and grandmother’s customers use to sit on while getting their fortune’s told. Serena served as our translator, and one by one we told the old lady our numbers and our questions.
My number: 78
My question: Will I/Should I work in China next year or will I/should I go home to America?
Her Interpretation: You are very stressed and worried. You need to relax, travel with your friends, and go with the flow (Some story about Confucius was told here but it was lost in translation).
Her Prediction: You will never make a lot of money, but you will be happy.
Great, I thought, she unfortunately confirmed what I already knew. I was secretly hoping she would give me an answer like you will stay in China and make a great fortune or you will go home next year and find happiness. Instead she had to be so realistic and inconclusive. Keep in mind that the other three girls who got their fortune’s read asked similar questions, and she didn’t tell them they were stressed or would never make much money. Oh well, at least she didn’t say I would be poor and unhappy. It could be worse.
With our fortunes read, we felt it was time to go back to Shenzhen—back to the chaos of China, back home. It’s funny to think that Shenzhen feels so much more like home than such a Westernized place like Hong Kong, but it is true. I’ve grown accustomed to the chaos, the inefficiency, the randomness that is Shenzhen. It gets on my nerves at times, but I am glad that I live in Shenzhen and not in Hong Kong. Hong Kong is too normal, too ordered, too much like home. I wanted something different, something to make me stronger, something that would force me to understand another culture, and Shenzhen provides those needs. Shenzhen is China. Hong Kong is something else.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Missing America
Some days there is only so much pushing, staring, honking, leering, and talking you can take before you secretly wish you were on a remote desert island as far away from China as possible. Yesterday was one of those days. I was tired of the crowds and the struggle. I was tired of pushing my way onto the bus only to be leered at by two men sitting a few chairs down from me. I was tired of racking my brain for the little Chinese I have learned and then shouting it over the blaring Chinese pop music just to order an 8 oz. cup of coffee at the little shop near my Chinese class. I was tired of the steady stream of non-pedestrian-yielding cars as I tried to cross the street on the crosswalk. I was tired of trying to find food that did not involve noodles, rice, KFC, or McDonald’s. I was tired of China.
Maybe it was the presidential election that made me suddenly long for America. Yesterday, I listened to the results on CNN’s website on my laptop in my office. Children were screaming as they ran past my office door, the teachers were chatting loudly in Chinese at the desk next to me, and the bad internet connection wouldn’t allow me to see the video. I pressed my earphones to my head and listened anyway trying to imagine myself in my living room with my parents watching the television in anticipation and later discussing the results. I even miss American television. I’m tired of the two English channels here that play brainwashing music while showing “splendid China” every ten minutes instead of commercials. So strangely enough, I even miss our commercials. At least some make me laugh. I’m tired of the one news show that comes on in the morning hosted by the same Chinese man whose voice I have come to despise.
I miss the diversity in America. I miss the choice. I miss walking down the cereal aisle in Wal-Mart. I miss arguing in the car with my family over whether we want Italian, Chinese, Mexican, BBQ, steaks or seafood for dinner. I miss seeing black people, Asian people, Hispanic people, and white people standing in line at the supermarket. I miss driving my car wherever I want, and I especially miss driving alone in my car on the open road with my music.
I also miss privacy. I miss public bathrooms with separate sinks for males and females. I miss restaurants with booths. I miss people who know that it’s polite not to stare or to ask you personal questions like how old are you, do you have a boyfriend, and how much do you weigh. I miss early morning runs without cars and thousands of people. I miss my house and its quiet neighborhood.
Even after being tired and missing all of these things, I tell myself not to despair. It is only the day. Tomorrow will be filled yet again with millions of Chinese people, but it may be different. Maybe tomorrow I will laugh at how ridiculous Chinese people are sometimes, or maybe I will suddenly understand why they do what they do. It’s just part of adjusting.
Maybe it was the presidential election that made me suddenly long for America. Yesterday, I listened to the results on CNN’s website on my laptop in my office. Children were screaming as they ran past my office door, the teachers were chatting loudly in Chinese at the desk next to me, and the bad internet connection wouldn’t allow me to see the video. I pressed my earphones to my head and listened anyway trying to imagine myself in my living room with my parents watching the television in anticipation and later discussing the results. I even miss American television. I’m tired of the two English channels here that play brainwashing music while showing “splendid China” every ten minutes instead of commercials. So strangely enough, I even miss our commercials. At least some make me laugh. I’m tired of the one news show that comes on in the morning hosted by the same Chinese man whose voice I have come to despise.
I miss the diversity in America. I miss the choice. I miss walking down the cereal aisle in Wal-Mart. I miss arguing in the car with my family over whether we want Italian, Chinese, Mexican, BBQ, steaks or seafood for dinner. I miss seeing black people, Asian people, Hispanic people, and white people standing in line at the supermarket. I miss driving my car wherever I want, and I especially miss driving alone in my car on the open road with my music.
I also miss privacy. I miss public bathrooms with separate sinks for males and females. I miss restaurants with booths. I miss people who know that it’s polite not to stare or to ask you personal questions like how old are you, do you have a boyfriend, and how much do you weigh. I miss early morning runs without cars and thousands of people. I miss my house and its quiet neighborhood.
Even after being tired and missing all of these things, I tell myself not to despair. It is only the day. Tomorrow will be filled yet again with millions of Chinese people, but it may be different. Maybe tomorrow I will laugh at how ridiculous Chinese people are sometimes, or maybe I will suddenly understand why they do what they do. It’s just part of adjusting.
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