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| Verbal Horror Asiafirst's recent post on City Weekend reminded me of an interesting topic... diarrhea. Now, since you're most likely of the Western tradition, you probably squirmed a little when you saw that word. That's exactly what I'm talking about. In Asia, they treat diarrhea like a cold -- a temporary, uncomfortable condition. Meanwhile, in the United States it's an unmentionable dark secret. No one wants to hear about your diarrhea, as if just the word in itself is some kind of plot to make us visualize something disgusting. It took me some time in Japan and China, when I was in a position requiring someone else's help, to be able to just tell people, "yo, I've got diarrhea, help me out here." In the U.S. we'd be much less direct about that kind of thing. As your hints about your condition zero in on the unspeakable, the listener gets your drift and tactfully pledges assistance and then immediately changes the topic. On the other hand, if you mention it to your Chinese friend while you're at the store, he just replies matter-of-factly, "Oh, you've got diarrhea??" and then, loudly, to the clerk across the store, "hey, my foreign friend here has diarrhea! Where' s the medicine for that?" You get the picture. Just one of those little differences... Oh, and as long as I'm on this taboo topic, a word to the wise: if you come to China, bring some immodium. |
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| Rewarding Work Last Thursday I had my advanced English discussion class at the English Department. Those students are just great. Their English is so good, and the people just have such personality. I thought college students were great for those reasons, but these adult students take it to a whole new level. Last week we did the "River Romance Story" (for lack of a better name), which I've already made famous at this school. It's pretty famous already anyway, so I'm kind of afraid to use it, always expecting my students to be familiar with it already. But last Thursday none of my students were. Good. Before I give an account of the discussion, I should tell the story. Here goes. Long, long ago, in the time of kings and queens, there lived a Man and a Lady, deeply in love. It was true love. The Man was a high-ranking servant of the king, often sent off to new posts to solve problems. Where the Man went to work, the Lady followed. Then the Man was assigned to a faroff village that was only reachable by way of a treacherous river. On the river, a storm suddenly sprang up. The boat was run into rocks, and everyone thrown overboard. The Man was the only passenger that could swim, and he managed to save himself, all the while looking fervently for the Lady. He couldn't find her. Not a single body turned up; all were lost in the swift current. After searching for days, grief-stricken, the Man was forced to accept the unimagniable. The Lady was gone. With heavy heart, he headed off to the village to fulfill his post. As fate would have it, however, the Lady didn't die. She was rescued by an inhabitant on the other side of the river and nursed back to health over a series of weeks from the brink of death. As soon as she could walk, she set about trying to get back to the Man. However, the river was uncrossable. There was no bridge. There was only one way of crossing: by way of the Boatman. He was the only one with enough skill to ferry people from one side to the other. He charged 10 gold pieces each way for his service. By the time the Lady reached the Boatman, he had long since heard of her. When she asked his price, he told her 100 gold pieces. She had only 10. No matter how she begged and pleaded, he would not bring the price down or even let her pay after crossing and finding the Man. It was 100 or nothing. The Lady soon met another man, however, named Sam. Sam was a landowner with a good deal off money, but he was a bit of a womanizer. The Lady was beautiful, and he took to her immediately. She made it clear that she wished only to return to her Man, though. Magnanimous man that he was, Sam said he could help her -- on one condition. The Lady must sleep with Sam for a night. The Lady was outraged at this request, and stormed off. She soon sank into despair, however, and quickly came to the conclusion that her life there, on the wrong side of the river was meaningless, and there was only one way out. She would sleep with Sam. So the Lady slept with Sam. She received 100 gold pieces. She paid the Boatman and crossed the river. She made her way into the village and found the Man. They were reunited at last, and their joy was boundless. Yet, at the back of the woman's heart gnawed the question: should I tell him? She decided to leave it be for the time being. After arriving, the Lady met the Man's new Friend, who also worked in the village. This Friend left the next day for the other side of the river to do business. His business was with Sam, and Sam liked to talk. He had a tendency to brag about his womanizing exploits, but he was known to always tell the truth. Sam told the Friend about his night with the Lady. The Friend was now in a hard position. Should he tell the Man? He didn't know all the circumstances of the incident in question, but he could be sure what Sam said was the truth. Finally, he decided that the Man should know the truth, and told him. The Man was angered by this information, calling the Friend a liar. Still, doubt overtook him, and he brought the "outrageous rumor" up to the Lady. She immediately burst into tears, admitting it was the truth. The Man was in total shock. Never had he felt so betrayed. He had vowed never to love again when he lost the Lady, but how could he forgive this? In the end, he couldn't. He parted ways with the Lady. They never saw each other again. So that's the story. The task is then to rank the people, 1-5, from "best" to "worst." Then discuss. This always yields great discussion. I love it. After discussing that, you can reveal what each person is supposed to symbolize: Lady - Love, Boatman - Business, Friend - Friendship, Sam - Sex, Man - Morality. Then we discuss whether the activity actually reveals our priorities in life. Anyway, last Thursday my class got so into this discussion. It was incredible. They were funny, too -- when I mentioned in the beginning how in love the Man and Lady were, one of my students said, "what's the use?" Later, when they were guessing what each character symbolizes, this same girl said the Lady represents weakness! Funny stuff. Anyway, we had a long discussion on morality. This example really brings out the differences and similarities between Western and Eastern morality. Eastern is much more relativistic. I taught them phrases from Western thought like, "the truth will set you free," "the ends doesn't justify the means," and "ignorance is bliss." Chinese girls seem to love to say the Lady is the best (and even that she did nothing wrong), and the Man is the worst for not forgiving the Lady. Some of them also say the Boatman is worse than Sam, because the whole mess was started by him, even if he was ignorant of the drama he set in motion. So I thought of all kinds of hypothetical situations to test their stances. Unsurprisingly, the girls became quite similar to the Man when I posed the situation of their husband sleeping with his female boss to get a promotion and provide better for his family (which was struggling to make ends meet and had no hope of properly educating the child). What blew my mind, though, was two girls' answer to this question: "Would you rather have a husband who was completely faithful to you and made you happy, or a husband who was not faithful, but you didn't know about it, and so were still happy?" The answer? "Either one is fine, as long as I never find out he's cheating." Either one is fine! Incredible. That class was a blast. I learned so much. It's classes like that that remind me how much I'm still learning here, and how my life is totally on track. |
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| Laowai 4ever! The other day I had to catch a taxi into town, and pulling off of ZhouShan Dong Road traffic was somewhat congested. As we were slowed to a crawl, the driver frantically looking for a hole in traffic he could dart through, my gaze fell on two women on a bike. One was pedalling, the other was sitting on the rack in back, facing the road. I couldn't hear her, but when she saw me I could easily read the words her lips spoke to her friend: "There's a laowai over there." A foreigner. Of course, this kind of incident is a daily occurrence. I caught her eyes and raised my eyebrows, communicating, "Yes, I am a laowai, and I understood what you just said." She blushed, covered her mouth, and tucked her head behind her friend, no doubt recounting this shocking development. I'm getting better at that look. To live in China is to be constantly reminded that you are a foreigner, that you are different, and that you don't really belong here. When I say we foreigners don't "belong" here, I'm not saying we're unwelcome. Sometimes we are very welcome. It's just that we don't belong. This idea is communicated in many different ways. One way is that it's difficult to have conversations with new people that aren't centered on where I'm from, why I'm here, how long I've been here, how much I make, if I'm used to Chinese food, etc. If you're a foreigner, that's simply what everyone wants to talk to you about. Every now and then I'll meet someone new and have an entirely normal conversation that is completely unconnected to the fact that I'm a foreigner. When that happens, it's so refreshing, and I just feel so grateful for being treated not just as a foreigner, but just as a person. And it's absurd that I should have those feelings. I guess you could say I'm finally understanding what it's like to be a minority, and that minorities in the USA have similar experiences, but I still think it's different. Of course, the other way the idea is communicated is a little more bluntly. The stares. People yelling, "Hello!" and then laughing if you turn to look. People feeling the need to alert everyone in the vicinity that a laowai has entered the scene. People talking about you right next to you on the bus, assuming you understand nothing. This is all part of life in China, and it must be accepted. But what's really hard to accept is the fact that China will continue on like this, no matter how good my Chinese gets. I don't know, I guess it's stupid, but I know that one day I'm going to be speaking more than good Chinese -- I'm going to be speaking kickass Chinese -- and that in return for that accomplishment I should get treated normally. That if enough time passes, Chinese people should get used to me. It's absurd, but somewhere in the back of my mind, there's a part of me that's looking forward to that day. And that day is simply never going to come. |
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| By far the most obnoxious noise in China has to be the playing of the national anthem "March of the Volunteers" every damn morning. I used to live on a street with several schools, and every single one of them blared it daily. You know, you can go through your daily routines in China, and almost think you're in a normal country--but then they blare that shit whether people want to hear it or not, and you're reminded China's still communist. I mean, I'm all for loving one's country and national anthem, but if some loudspeakers outside my window were booming "The Star-Spangled Banner" at 7AM every morning, I'd start hating the song too! |
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| Familiar Strangers I have been walking to and from work for the past two weeks. I need to be at my workplace at 8:30am. I get off work at 5:30pm. The walk is about 20 minutes. Routine. On day one, as I waded into the flow of pedestrians, I started reflecting about all these people and all these routines. Shanghai has a huge population, but how many people are on West Nanjing Road every morning from 8:00 to 8:30? And for how many of those people is it a routine? If their routine overlaps mine, I'm liable to see the same people again and again, depending on the degree and consistency of overlap between our routines. It wasn't long before I had an answer to my question. On day two I saw a familiar face. Over two weeks, I have only been able to identify three definites: Japanese-looking Girl. Japanese-looking Girl looks Japanese. That's not to say she is; there are Chinese-looking Koreans, Thai-looking Japanese, etc. But she has a dye job and a perm, as well as a certain sense of style that strikes me as Japanese-looking. She was the one I recognized on day two, and I see her almost every single day because a long stretch of our routines, running in opposite directions along West Nanjing Road, overlap. I like Japanese-looking girl because she has a kind face, and she always wears a thoughtful expression. F4 Reject. This guy bears a striking resemblance to a member of the Taiwanese boy band F4, which used to be all the rage in the PRC. He's got the long hair, and seems to be going for the "casually stylish" look. He always wears jeans, frequently wears black shirts. Differences are his looks are not boy band caliber, he wears glasses, and he has the unattractive habit of walking around with his mouth agape. He seems to always be in a stupor, plodding determinedly ahead. Aryan Duo. Only one of the two has blond hair, but I just liked that name. They appear to be a couple, they're tall, they both wear black trenchcoats, and they walk fast. They look very unfriendly, as if Shanghai is holding them captive. They may be just as shackled to their routines, because I only see them if I can get out the door around 8:00am (which isn't often). I don't miss them. Why mention these people at all? Well, what strikes me as interesting is that as quick as I was to identify them as fixtures in my routine, I imagine they should have begun to recognize me by now. At around 6'5", I'm not a foreigner that is often overlooked in China. And yet day after day, their eyes show absolutely no recognition. So that's my challenge. These people are going to recognize me. I tried to smile at Japanese-looking Girl, but that's kinda tricky, because I don't want her to think I'm coming onto her. I'm sure she'll crack eventually if I just make a small friendly smile as we pass (every single fricking day!). I wonder how she would react if I commented on a change in her hairstyle as I passed her. There's little hope for F4 Reject. The guy seems half-catatonic sometimes. (I bet he'd noticed me if I jacked him in the jaw!) His open mouth reminds me of myself as a kid, because I once had this bad habit myself. My grandma would say to me, "whatcha doin' there, catchin' flies?" I bet F4 Reject has caught a few. I don't plan on seeing the Aryan Duo again. Why leave the house in the morning before 8:05 if I don't have to? |
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| Taxi Tale Interpretation Not long ago I got pissed off about a little episode involving a Chinese man and a taxi and I made a little entry about it. I got one response on it from one John B. He's a guy who taught in China for a short time, and I happened to get in contact with him through some really odd coincidences. John B. suggested in his e-mail that "the 'me first' attitude comes from simple competition for resources. With 1.2 billion other folks to compete with to get everything, I guess you learn to take any opportunity you can get." That explanation makes sense, and I might accept it, were it not for my experiences in Japan. China may have the world's largest population, but the population density of Japan is, for the most part, higher. I can't quote any statistics on this, but I've lived extensively in both places now, and I can assure you that's the case. So in Japan there should be higher competition for resources. You might answer that China is poorer, whereas Japan is now a land of plenty (despite the current economic slump), which curbs the "me first" competitive drive in Japan. Recall, though, that after WWII Japan was a third world nation. China may be newer to modernity, but the pre-WWII generation is still around in Japan as well. Both societies have undergone monumental changes in the past 50 years, but China has come out of it seeming much less civil. Why? My adult Chinese students at the English Department recently offered a compelling explanation. Since they are still young themselves, the students drew mainly upon anecdotes from their parents and grandparents to offer this explanation. Before Communist China, China was at war. War with Japan, civil war, war with Western imperialism. It was chaos. Out of this chaos came Communist China. Early Communist China was actually Communist. It was communal. People cooperated. People shared. As the U.S. quaked in fear and rage at the global spread of Communism, Chinese people felt a national spirit of goodwill and just plain human goodness that surpassed anything that the nation had experienced in a long, long time. You might dismiss such warm fuzzy good feeling descriptions of early Communist China as propaganda, but I've heard a lot of stories. Regardless of certain realities (e.g. the failure of efforts such as the Great Leap Forward*), a lot of Chinese people felt really good. It was a golden time. That era was followed by the culture revolution*, of course. Cooperation, goodwill, and social progress were replaced by backstabbing, malice, and social disintegration as co-workers, friends, and even family members betrayed each other in the madness of the times. All sense of brotherhood was obliterated by the absolute necessity to look out for number one. One's reputation, livelihood, or possibly even life depended on it. The effects of the Cultural Revolution were profound. They linger. Furthermore, Capitalism has long since had its foot in the door, and the Party is looking the other way as the entire leg sexily slides its way in. I'm thinking Capitalist consumerism probably doesn't help the situation either, right And so jerks steal my taxi in China. They're still not excused. |
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| Police, Schmolice I don't want Police, Schmolice I don't want to get stuck on the whole taxi thing, but I've got another little story. And it begins with me riding in a taxi. This time the driver was a woman. Female taxi drivers are not so common. This driver, however, was top-notch. I mean that in the Chinese sense. When she takes you somewhere, she takes you in a hurry. That means not only serious speed, but also lots of passing and swerving -- above all, not stopping. We saw three accidents on the way back to my school. Fortunately we weren't involved in any. We chatted on the way to East Zhou Shan Road. We passed a billboard which featured a woman who I thought was the famous Chinese Olympic diver Fu Mingxia. She thought it was too, at first, but then decided it wasn't. We then started talking about the likelihood of Fu Mingxia participating in the next Olympics. My driver thought it pretty unlikely, since the pretty star is now married to a 50-something rich Hong Kong big shot. A child is probably in her near future, opined my driver. And after having a kid, your body will never be the same, she assured me. She went on to talk about her own 6-year-old son, and how he looooves to eat KFC. We were close to the home stretch -- the turn to East Zhou Shan Road was just ahead. Bearing down on us fast from the opposite direction was a big 4WD police vehicle. My driver made a bold turn directly into the path of the police car, forcing it to brake fast. It really was quite close. As we squeezed through the opening, I must have let out a gasp. Turning to me, she offered this explanation: "I'm trying to earn money here. They're not doing anything -- they can take their time." The police, of course, just continued on their way, not taking any more notice of the offending taxi than was required to avoid a collision. This is China. |
| QUOTE (Martian @ 18 Feb 2004, 22:59) |
| that's really sarcastic, funny, and truthful where did you get these from? |