After living near the UVa ‘corner’ last year, I am familiar with passing by beggars on my way to class. It was usually the same one or two guys, whom I would always see later in the day drinking 40s.
I realize that Shanghai, Kunming, Xi’an—or every other city I’ve been to in China—is bigger than Charlottesville, but I was still not quite prepared for beggars in Chinese cities. The most troublesome kind is child beggars. I was first exposed to these beggars outside clubs or bars in Shanghai. Most of the time there would be a mother holding an infant, and then also a small child of about 4 or 5 years old. As soon as we would step toward the taxi-stop, the mother would come up and grab my shoulder; the child would grab my leg. Even after I had closed the door, the mother’s arm was still reaching into the taxi through the window.
I had been warned that these set-ups were all fake and that the children with the mother are usually not even of the same blood. Apparently there are “communities” of beggars in large cities that rotate children and location.
When I arrived in Kunming, I noticed two new “types” of beggars in large volume, though of course in addition to the other “types” I have grown accustomed to seeing (women dressed in “minority”-style clothing, very elderly men and women, and the child beggars). The first is severely crippled individuals—lots of people missing hands or feet, deformed limbs, etc. In fact, in some places around the city I saw healthy, “normal” looking women essentially show-casing what appeared to be their deformed children. One woman even had her “child,” who seemed to be suffering from some sort of enlarged skull, on a leash in front of her.
The second peculiar group of beggars I have encountered in Kunming is one, sometimes two, people sitting on the ground in front of their “story” written out either on a piece of cardboard or in chalk on the sidewalk. The individual(s) is usually staring at his/her feet, allowing people to stop and read the written words. Local Chinese crowd around these types of people, but only to read—I have yet to see money be given to this type of beggar.
I usually walk by as fast as I can, but at the beginning I was intrigued by the large crowds, so I, too, read the “story” of two or three different beggars. One claimed that he was a college graduate that was unable to find work in Kunming and now just wanted to return home. He asked for a specific price—30 kuai—to buy a train ticket to get back to see his parents. Most all of these written pleas ask for a specific amount of money, and I’ve even seen some close to the train station written in English (an area where many foreigners pass through).
At first I thought this was just so humiliating for the beggar—staring at his/her feet, I really felt sorry for the tragedy written out before me. But then I saw a child beggar sitting in front of a piece of cardboard with a “story” written on it. The young girl was probably 5 or 6 years old, and at the time I saw her, she was coloring in a coloring book. Then I realized, this small child probably can’t even write the story in front of her, let alone read it. The large, bold characters were very clearly written, and I definitely did not recognize all of them.
I talked to a taxi cab driver about this child beggar phenomenon once, and he told me that although it really is a pity, he believes they are all fake. Most Chinese youth I have spoken with say it is especially awkward when the beggar is a peer—like that college graduate—however, most still maintain that they should not give beggars money.
I am really not familiar enough with Chinese culture and society to be able to point to any of the social forces that cause such a diverse group of people to exist (and I would probably do a clumsy job guessing at the social forces that cause it in America). So what happens? We all just keep walking.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Friday, August 10, 2007
Friends and ZooMing (as in Zoo York)
So! Yesterday I checked into my spiffy new 8 person room, and was instantly attacked by Chinese-speaking youth (all Chinese except for one Korean exchange student). They were five, I was one, and they were happy I could speak Chinese. Apparently in our room there also used to be a German guy and a French girl, but they both are not nearly as good as me (this is a prime example of Chinese make-you-feel-good-about-yourself. This happens to me on a daily basis when I tell salespeople “我不要！" "I don't want it!" and then the salesperson replies, "你说汉语说得很好！" "You speak Chinese so well!!!" This quick judgement based on three words is obviously a gimmic because it is followed by the price of whatever it is being sold.)
But yes, they were all very nice and four were going in different directions the next day (today), so we all just HAD to say our goodbyes at a bar. We laughed about cultural differences--I voiced my complaints about Chinese peoples' inability to form lines at the train station, they told me that American interferes in other nations' business too much, and we all got tipsy. I now have everyone's QQ number, essentially the equivalent to AIM screenname. I tried to register on QQ today, but I had a hard time reading the instructions... I'm going to have to set aside some more time for that another day.
The afore-mentioned Korean exchange student just arrived yesterday from Beijing, where she is an exchange student in a Master's Program in Architectural History (I just can't seem to stay away from architects). Before starting that program at Tsinghua University (a University I hope to attend in Fall 2008!!), she had only studied one year of Chinese, also in Beijing. She is really amazing to be taking classes and writing a thesis in a foreign language after studying it for only one year. Today she found out that she, like me, will be trapped in Kunming for 10 days: all of the Beijing return train tickets have been sold out until the 20th. [I will refrain from complaining about the train system in China.] However she plans to go to Dali and Lijiang (where I was the past five days) tomorrow, so I guess I'll just hope for new cool roommates tomorrow.
Today she and I walked to the Kunming Zoo, a sad, sad place. I honestly do not remember the specific condition of American zoos, so please--unless you are very familiar with your local zoo, keep in mind that zoos are most likely the same everywhere, and that China is probably not especially unkind to its animals. But anyway, pretty much every animal we saw (monkeys, bears, giraffes, zebras, racoons (are those in American zoos?), flamingos, other assorted colorful birds, pandas, elephants, and lions) were very, very dirty. My friend asked me, "I thought Zebras were supposed to be black and white?" No chance--yellow is all you get. The thing that bothered me the most about this zoo was people feeding the animals. In fact, I might even assume that the zookeepers didn't give the animals food at all, given the way the creatures would scramble for every scrap thrown through the bars. In addition, I saw peakcocks eating out of people's hands: no fear at all.
A difference with American zoos though, (I think anyway,) is that there was an amusement park in the middle of the zoo. Rollercoaster, merry-go-round, unhealthy and overpriced food, you name it. Also there was a lot of just open green space with trees, so people could lay down and play Mah Jong. By the looks of it, people paid the 10 kuai (about $1.15) fee each day to meet their friends in the shade. OH also I forgot to mention about the pandas in Chengdu: you could pay 450 kuai (about $60) to touch the panda (wearing gloves and booties of course). This zoo had a similar set up but we didn't bother reading the sign for the price. haha
I thought I could leave you with some funny pictures I've taken that I myself am still confused about. Hope you enjoy, and have a gooood day
in a public bathroom. yes.
ok i've been attacked by two small children,must run
Thursday, August 9, 2007
PANDA PANDA PANDA
I like.
These pictures were taken in Chengdu on August 2nd. Chengdu is home of the Panda Breeding Research center, which is very important to China and its so called 'Panda-diplomacy.' Briefly explained to me as, "We give developed nations pandas. But only developed ones!" This is according to my friend Lin Jing.
Oh, and if you want to see pictures of the 'red pandas' (definitely not as cool or popular, the two most important things ), email me and I can send 'em to ya.
But I am now quite far from Chengdu--I am back in the city of Kunming with all ten toes! Unfortunately I have lost my three friends... we're all headed different ways. Originally I was planning to go to Hong Kong, Macau, and then finally Shanghai, but actually I'm so very tired, and getting into Hong Kong is still trickey (the lonely planet book said something about walking over the border because if you try to ride a bus it's complicated), so I've decided to just hangout here in Kunming for the next week. I'll return to Shanghai midday on the 19th, and then board my plane the next day to return to America!
I am looking forward to more free time to just relax--for the past two and half weeks we've been trying to go to as many places as possible--and hopefully make more posts about our adventures.
hope everyone is well, and an early happy anniversary to my parents !
Saturday, August 4, 2007
A Series of - Events..
[originally this post was going to have a bunch of pictures, but the intnet will not let me. 对不起, sorry.]
Today we arrived in 昆明 Kunming, and several ridiculous things happened in a row. I think it's all pretty hilarious:
-Yesterday 9:41am: the gates are opened to unlease the animals (us) to get on the train. After surviving getting through the bottleneck to the train (approximately 1000 people ride this type of train), SURPRISE! we are see that our train survived the Cultural Revolution, but unfortunately air conditioning has still not been installed. :(
-last night around 10pm: I agreed to sleep on the top bunk, thinking it a bonus because the fan (and only source of heat relief) was closest to me. However, I didn't realize that the fan blades were metal. And only the front was covered. Listening to music and moving my feet to the hot beats, I suddenly hear a horrible sound and feel an intense pain on my right foot middle toe. Ouch-- the nail is broken, blood, dirty fan residue, oh dear. Luckily I bought that first aid kit with my mother from Target. No hope of going to the bathroom tonight--the last time I went around 3pm the floor was covered in many, many dirty liquids (it is a squatter of course, right onto the train tracks). Fearing that I might lose my toe but at the same time thinking it's kind of cool, I go to bed.
-8:30 am: we arrive! I can walk! horray. We meet up with our teacher, Tang Laoshi, who plans to travel with us through Yunan province. She just finished her first year of graduate school, so she's pretty young and cool. Luckily we don't have that language pledge now, because it's necessary to speak English around the tricksters who try to get us to purchase their travel plans. We all decide to go to 大理 Dali for the first two days, 丽江 Lijiang for the next two, and then Kunming for the last. This was a surprise to me, but we're with a native who will not buy everything for us, so it will all be OK.
-8:46am: Tang laoshi asks a train station officer where we can find a company to take us to Dali. He pulls out a cell phone and someone soon comes to speak with us. The guy who speaks with us is wearing jeans, T-shirt, and gloshes. Not professional-looking by Western standards at all. He tells us to follow him, assuring us that the bus ticket to Dali is the same price as the train ticket, and we'll even save 4 hours! I'm not sure why exactly we believed him, but we did. Soon we come to a pedestrian underpass that has become flooded with water due to the recent rains. We all have our luggage and I still have a big gash in my big toe, so we're extremely frightened about walking through the black-ish brown water. Luckily bicycle rickshaw owners have heard of this flooded pedestrian underpass and are ready to cart us across. We don't really see any other option, so we sit in the back of the rickshaw and allow the bicyclist to get us to the other side. We still don't really know where we are
-9:00am: now that we've reached the other side of the river of filth, we have to cross a four lane high way. And there is a barrier in between. The bus guy tells us to run quickly across and be careful with luggage-- he'll stand on top of the barrier to help us life it over. What the hell are we doing, seriously.
-9:15 we finally arrive to the bus station, he tells us that the bus will leave in 45 minutes. So we have to get to the nearest hospital ASAP to make sure I won't loose that toe after all. We're told that we can take a taxi--very close very close. after driving for a few minutes, the driver confesses he doesn't know where the place is. He stops to ask a street vendor where it is, when suddenly... THUD. I'm about a foot lower than I used to be--looks like the back right tire fell into a ditch. We step out of the vehicle and take a look... apparently Kunming city doesn't cover its sewage holes. The entire back tire is stuck in the hole. We throw 10 kuai (currency) at the driver and run inside the hospital which is luckily right next door.
-9:17 after paying 1.5 kuai (about 20 cents), the doctor agrees to see me. He sits me down and tell me to put my foot on a wooden stool. The stool has what appears to be dried blood.... He suggests I get a shot to ensure that it won't get infected. In the bottom. I am really afraid, but Tang laoshi says it will be OK. As I'm getting the shot, a little Chinese boy comes to look at me. He can't believe I speak Chinese, and even though the nurses tell him to go away, he keeps on looking. This is the proof that there is no privacy in China.
-10:00 we just make it to board the 4 hour bus to Dali. I was very happy with the sterile shot and bandage they gave me for my foot. It seems like it will all be OK! In fact, the hostel we find is extremely clean - we even have our own bathroom. Phew.
we're about to go out to eat dinner. I'm looking forward to some more ridiculous happeningssssss
Today we arrived in 昆明 Kunming, and several ridiculous things happened in a row. I think it's all pretty hilarious:
-Yesterday 9:41am: the gates are opened to unlease the animals (us) to get on the train. After surviving getting through the bottleneck to the train (approximately 1000 people ride this type of train), SURPRISE! we are see that our train survived the Cultural Revolution, but unfortunately air conditioning has still not been installed. :(
-last night around 10pm: I agreed to sleep on the top bunk, thinking it a bonus because the fan (and only source of heat relief) was closest to me. However, I didn't realize that the fan blades were metal. And only the front was covered. Listening to music and moving my feet to the hot beats, I suddenly hear a horrible sound and feel an intense pain on my right foot middle toe. Ouch-- the nail is broken, blood, dirty fan residue, oh dear. Luckily I bought that first aid kit with my mother from Target. No hope of going to the bathroom tonight--the last time I went around 3pm the floor was covered in many, many dirty liquids (it is a squatter of course, right onto the train tracks). Fearing that I might lose my toe but at the same time thinking it's kind of cool, I go to bed.
-8:30 am: we arrive! I can walk! horray. We meet up with our teacher, Tang Laoshi, who plans to travel with us through Yunan province. She just finished her first year of graduate school, so she's pretty young and cool. Luckily we don't have that language pledge now, because it's necessary to speak English around the tricksters who try to get us to purchase their travel plans. We all decide to go to 大理 Dali for the first two days, 丽江 Lijiang for the next two, and then Kunming for the last. This was a surprise to me, but we're with a native who will not buy everything for us, so it will all be OK.
-8:46am: Tang laoshi asks a train station officer where we can find a company to take us to Dali. He pulls out a cell phone and someone soon comes to speak with us. The guy who speaks with us is wearing jeans, T-shirt, and gloshes. Not professional-looking by Western standards at all. He tells us to follow him, assuring us that the bus ticket to Dali is the same price as the train ticket, and we'll even save 4 hours! I'm not sure why exactly we believed him, but we did. Soon we come to a pedestrian underpass that has become flooded with water due to the recent rains. We all have our luggage and I still have a big gash in my big toe, so we're extremely frightened about walking through the black-ish brown water. Luckily bicycle rickshaw owners have heard of this flooded pedestrian underpass and are ready to cart us across. We don't really see any other option, so we sit in the back of the rickshaw and allow the bicyclist to get us to the other side. We still don't really know where we are
-9:00am: now that we've reached the other side of the river of filth, we have to cross a four lane high way. And there is a barrier in between. The bus guy tells us to run quickly across and be careful with luggage-- he'll stand on top of the barrier to help us life it over. What the hell are we doing, seriously.
-9:15 we finally arrive to the bus station, he tells us that the bus will leave in 45 minutes. So we have to get to the nearest hospital ASAP to make sure I won't loose that toe after all. We're told that we can take a taxi--very close very close. after driving for a few minutes, the driver confesses he doesn't know where the place is. He stops to ask a street vendor where it is, when suddenly... THUD. I'm about a foot lower than I used to be--looks like the back right tire fell into a ditch. We step out of the vehicle and take a look... apparently Kunming city doesn't cover its sewage holes. The entire back tire is stuck in the hole. We throw 10 kuai (currency) at the driver and run inside the hospital which is luckily right next door.
-9:17 after paying 1.5 kuai (about 20 cents), the doctor agrees to see me. He sits me down and tell me to put my foot on a wooden stool. The stool has what appears to be dried blood.... He suggests I get a shot to ensure that it won't get infected. In the bottom. I am really afraid, but Tang laoshi says it will be OK. As I'm getting the shot, a little Chinese boy comes to look at me. He can't believe I speak Chinese, and even though the nurses tell him to go away, he keeps on looking. This is the proof that there is no privacy in China.
-10:00 we just make it to board the 4 hour bus to Dali. I was very happy with the sterile shot and bandage they gave me for my foot. It seems like it will all be OK! In fact, the hostel we find is extremely clean - we even have our own bathroom. Phew.
we're about to go out to eat dinner. I'm looking forward to some more ridiculous happeningssssss
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Misunderstandings; Culture Shock
Lately I have been faced with some new situations that I can only describe as Culture Shock.
Aside from the bathroom “situation,” I have prided myself thus far on coping with the differences in Chinese and American cultures. I can confidently say that I have, up until Chengdu, not had any experiences were I felt completely confused or frozen to the point where I did not know how to react to my surroundings. But then I met 林静 / Lin Jing.
At UVa, I have a “language partner” named Zhang Ru. She is a college professor from Nanchang, China, who took a year off to conduct research at UVa. Because her English is not that great, we meet once a week to practice speaking English for 30 minutes and Chinese for 30 minutes. We get along really well and both benefit from our weekly meetings. The last time we met back in May, she told me that if I make a stop to Chengdu this summer, I should definitely contact her niece, Lin Jing, who is an undergraduate at a Chengdu college.
I thought this was a great idea because any help traveling would be appreciated. We wrote each other some emails while I was in Shanghai, and in Xi’an we began to talk via cell phone. She enthusiastically agreed to help us three travelers by buying our train ticket from Chengdu to Kunming. (For this we are all extremely grateful because tickets departing from a city can only be bought in that city, and are only sold ten days in advance, often being sold out on that first day. We are so fortunate to know someone in Chengdu who could buy the ticket on the first day it was available.)
Things started to get fishy when she gave Cuisang a phone call while we were aboard the train en route to Chengdu. She said that her uncle would drive his car to pick us up from the train station and take us to the hostel. To me this sounded so inconvenient and truly unnecessary because we had read that the number of taxis in Chengdu –almost- matches Shanghai.
We accepted her kind offer, though, and were gratefully escorted to our hostel, at which point Lin Jing insisted on treating us for dinner. The next morning she paid for our bus tickets to Sanxingdui, in addition to the entrance ticket. When we rode a taxi from place to place, before we even know we were getting out (Lin Jing was in control of these things… we had no idea) she had already paid. And in the afternoon, she had set up an appointment for us to meet with a travel agency for the Jiuzhaigou trip—she scored us a cheap local price (which actually had its negative side effects, which I plan to describe in a later post). Finally, another dinner treated by Lin Jing. And I still wasn’t even completely positive about how to pronounce her name.
So, yeah. Wow! How nice of her, I guess? This stranger who has almost no connection with us whatsoever so readily pays for EVERYTHING, treats us like we are completely helpless and her number one responsibility. We tried to pay for things, or at least reimburse her for the many costs that she bore for us, but she wouldn’t have it. And to make things even more confusing for me, she spoke extremely fast so I was not even sure where or what we were doing, I just new that this stranger was treating us like kings.
You might think this would be great—free stuff, etc. But in reality I felt extremely uncomfortable. This amount of money she has spent on me now (three more meals, four more bus tickets, admittance ticket to Emei Shan, and other small treats that certainly add up) is really unbelievable. And we still barely know each other! I am so confused as to why she feels the need to book everything for us, to escort us around, to pay for meals. I truly do not know what to do about it… I am truly shocked to the point where I can’t even respond.
The best example was during one of our dinners together. The bill came and I quickly whipped out my wallet and cash and told the waitress to run with it. After this happened Lin Jing yelled and seemed to become angry. She insisted I take her money. I wasn’t sure what to do! I remember once in Rhode Island, one of Aunts gave me twenty dollars—just as a gift with no occasion. Because there was no reason for the gift, I told her I couldn’t accept, earning myself a scolding from my father later that night. So what do I do in this situation with Lin Jing? Should I follow the same cultural behavior as in America, and accept the money being offered? Or should I know that in reality she is happy that I paid for this meal, and it is assumed that she will pay for the next?
Cuisang, Peichuan, and I have talked about it a lot, because it makes all three of us uncomfortable, and Cuisang called his mother (who is from Hong Kong) to get her opinion on how to deal with “Chinese Hospitality”. Apparently this is completely normal—if a Chinese person has any sort of connection, however distant, it is his/her responsibility to be the best host possible, by paying and escorting. And the payback? The only thing we can do, according to Cuisang’s mother, is promise Lin Jing that we will host her if she ever comes to America.
But Lin Jing has no plans to come to America. And even if she did have them, that seems so far away for me. But there is no way to get around it. Though we try to pay for as many things as we can (and we are successful, we just tell Lin Jing “you pay next time, you pay next time”), she is definitely paying for more than half of our activities—and there are three of us!
This form of hospitality is something that still has me confused and uncomfortable. Perhaps it exists in America (I often hear of “southern hospitality”), but this really seems to be at a ridiculous level—even more so because we do not know her. And sometimes it interferes with reason—for example, we reached the summit of Emei Shan, and Lin Jing said we shouldn’t eat at the restaurant there because it would be very expensive. Even though I insisted that I would pay, she would not have it. So we ate instant noodles. Her treat. And yes, I am glad that I did not spend the 8 kuai on my dinner, but it wasn’t filling—for any of us.
But this is the way hospitality works, according to my experience with Lin Jing. It is embarrassing for her, according to Cuisang, if we pay for too much. So I am trying my best to always be grateful and not frozen, and I constantly tell her that if she comes to America, I will take her all around Washington, DC.
The second area where I encountered Culture Shock was on the bus ride home from Jiuzhaigou. The ride was 9 hours long, and things got boring quickly, especially because reading is nearly impossible on the windy roads. The entire trip took four days, and for whatever reason up till this last day, we three had never spoken with the young girl sitting in the row in front of me. Now it’s time for a diagram:
The green seats are other passengers, and the black seats are Peichuan and Cuisang. During the last two hours of our return to Chengdu, the mother (red) began feeding questions to the daughter (yellow). This became very awkward, because the daughter would ask me a question, then turn to her mom and report back my answer. So I still am not quite clear what the mother even looks like, yet she knows a lot of information about my life.
Anyway, this is just an awkward detail about the situation. The questions started out harmless (all in Chinese): “How do you like China? How long have you been studying Chinese? What do you do when you don’t understand Chinese? Where do you live in America?” etc. I didn’t have any problem making conversation, though I did think it odd for the questions to be in such a relay.
But then the questions became very uncomfortable: “Do you want to marry a Chinese girl? So how much money did you spend a week in Shanghai? How much money do you spend now? How much money do you spend per week in America? Are you responsible for school tuition? Do you make money on your own? How much money do your parents make? How many rooms are in your house in America?”
Once again, I really did not know what to do in this situation. Things like income and the number of rooms in your house are just not topics that are discussed in America, especially with complete strangers. I am familiar with the stereotype of Americas—that they have lots of money and roll in wealth. And the questions were probably a product of curiosity about this stereotype. So should I answer honestly, and perhaps affirm her stereotype (though I wasn’t sure what would or wouldn’t be affirming that stereotype), or should I give extremely modest answers.
These questions made me so uncomfortable because I am fairly certain that this family would take my answers to be the standard for all American families, and that is really not fair. Also I just thought it was none of their business to know, but I wasn’t sure if I should tell them that flat out, or if that could cause some other bad consequence. Eventually I just started saying “I don’t know” or “I don’t understand your question”—a cheap way out, I know, but I really felt uncomfortable.
Apparently these types of questions are common (once again according to Cuisang). Something I was definitely unprepared for, though. I should probably just loosen up, and realize that people—Chinese, westerners, even myself—will make stereotypes and assumptions from limited information no matter what.
But I’m still not sure how to look at both of these situations… certainly different from any of my previous experiences, hah. This is the true challenge, I think, coping with these differences. We’ll see how I continue to do…
Aside from the bathroom “situation,” I have prided myself thus far on coping with the differences in Chinese and American cultures. I can confidently say that I have, up until Chengdu, not had any experiences were I felt completely confused or frozen to the point where I did not know how to react to my surroundings. But then I met 林静 / Lin Jing.
At UVa, I have a “language partner” named Zhang Ru. She is a college professor from Nanchang, China, who took a year off to conduct research at UVa. Because her English is not that great, we meet once a week to practice speaking English for 30 minutes and Chinese for 30 minutes. We get along really well and both benefit from our weekly meetings. The last time we met back in May, she told me that if I make a stop to Chengdu this summer, I should definitely contact her niece, Lin Jing, who is an undergraduate at a Chengdu college.
I thought this was a great idea because any help traveling would be appreciated. We wrote each other some emails while I was in Shanghai, and in Xi’an we began to talk via cell phone. She enthusiastically agreed to help us three travelers by buying our train ticket from Chengdu to Kunming. (For this we are all extremely grateful because tickets departing from a city can only be bought in that city, and are only sold ten days in advance, often being sold out on that first day. We are so fortunate to know someone in Chengdu who could buy the ticket on the first day it was available.)
Things started to get fishy when she gave Cuisang a phone call while we were aboard the train en route to Chengdu. She said that her uncle would drive his car to pick us up from the train station and take us to the hostel. To me this sounded so inconvenient and truly unnecessary because we had read that the number of taxis in Chengdu –almost- matches Shanghai.
We accepted her kind offer, though, and were gratefully escorted to our hostel, at which point Lin Jing insisted on treating us for dinner. The next morning she paid for our bus tickets to Sanxingdui, in addition to the entrance ticket. When we rode a taxi from place to place, before we even know we were getting out (Lin Jing was in control of these things… we had no idea) she had already paid. And in the afternoon, she had set up an appointment for us to meet with a travel agency for the Jiuzhaigou trip—she scored us a cheap local price (which actually had its negative side effects, which I plan to describe in a later post). Finally, another dinner treated by Lin Jing. And I still wasn’t even completely positive about how to pronounce her name.
So, yeah. Wow! How nice of her, I guess? This stranger who has almost no connection with us whatsoever so readily pays for EVERYTHING, treats us like we are completely helpless and her number one responsibility. We tried to pay for things, or at least reimburse her for the many costs that she bore for us, but she wouldn’t have it. And to make things even more confusing for me, she spoke extremely fast so I was not even sure where or what we were doing, I just new that this stranger was treating us like kings.
You might think this would be great—free stuff, etc. But in reality I felt extremely uncomfortable. This amount of money she has spent on me now (three more meals, four more bus tickets, admittance ticket to Emei Shan, and other small treats that certainly add up) is really unbelievable. And we still barely know each other! I am so confused as to why she feels the need to book everything for us, to escort us around, to pay for meals. I truly do not know what to do about it… I am truly shocked to the point where I can’t even respond.
The best example was during one of our dinners together. The bill came and I quickly whipped out my wallet and cash and told the waitress to run with it. After this happened Lin Jing yelled and seemed to become angry. She insisted I take her money. I wasn’t sure what to do! I remember once in Rhode Island, one of Aunts gave me twenty dollars—just as a gift with no occasion. Because there was no reason for the gift, I told her I couldn’t accept, earning myself a scolding from my father later that night. So what do I do in this situation with Lin Jing? Should I follow the same cultural behavior as in America, and accept the money being offered? Or should I know that in reality she is happy that I paid for this meal, and it is assumed that she will pay for the next?
Cuisang, Peichuan, and I have talked about it a lot, because it makes all three of us uncomfortable, and Cuisang called his mother (who is from Hong Kong) to get her opinion on how to deal with “Chinese Hospitality”. Apparently this is completely normal—if a Chinese person has any sort of connection, however distant, it is his/her responsibility to be the best host possible, by paying and escorting. And the payback? The only thing we can do, according to Cuisang’s mother, is promise Lin Jing that we will host her if she ever comes to America.
But Lin Jing has no plans to come to America. And even if she did have them, that seems so far away for me. But there is no way to get around it. Though we try to pay for as many things as we can (and we are successful, we just tell Lin Jing “you pay next time, you pay next time”), she is definitely paying for more than half of our activities—and there are three of us!
This form of hospitality is something that still has me confused and uncomfortable. Perhaps it exists in America (I often hear of “southern hospitality”), but this really seems to be at a ridiculous level—even more so because we do not know her. And sometimes it interferes with reason—for example, we reached the summit of Emei Shan, and Lin Jing said we shouldn’t eat at the restaurant there because it would be very expensive. Even though I insisted that I would pay, she would not have it. So we ate instant noodles. Her treat. And yes, I am glad that I did not spend the 8 kuai on my dinner, but it wasn’t filling—for any of us.
But this is the way hospitality works, according to my experience with Lin Jing. It is embarrassing for her, according to Cuisang, if we pay for too much. So I am trying my best to always be grateful and not frozen, and I constantly tell her that if she comes to America, I will take her all around Washington, DC.
The second area where I encountered Culture Shock was on the bus ride home from Jiuzhaigou. The ride was 9 hours long, and things got boring quickly, especially because reading is nearly impossible on the windy roads. The entire trip took four days, and for whatever reason up till this last day, we three had never spoken with the young girl sitting in the row in front of me. Now it’s time for a diagram:
The green seats are other passengers, and the black seats are Peichuan and Cuisang. During the last two hours of our return to Chengdu, the mother (red) began feeding questions to the daughter (yellow). This became very awkward, because the daughter would ask me a question, then turn to her mom and report back my answer. So I still am not quite clear what the mother even looks like, yet she knows a lot of information about my life.
Anyway, this is just an awkward detail about the situation. The questions started out harmless (all in Chinese): “How do you like China? How long have you been studying Chinese? What do you do when you don’t understand Chinese? Where do you live in America?” etc. I didn’t have any problem making conversation, though I did think it odd for the questions to be in such a relay.
But then the questions became very uncomfortable: “Do you want to marry a Chinese girl? So how much money did you spend a week in Shanghai? How much money do you spend now? How much money do you spend per week in America? Are you responsible for school tuition? Do you make money on your own? How much money do your parents make? How many rooms are in your house in America?”
Once again, I really did not know what to do in this situation. Things like income and the number of rooms in your house are just not topics that are discussed in America, especially with complete strangers. I am familiar with the stereotype of Americas—that they have lots of money and roll in wealth. And the questions were probably a product of curiosity about this stereotype. So should I answer honestly, and perhaps affirm her stereotype (though I wasn’t sure what would or wouldn’t be affirming that stereotype), or should I give extremely modest answers.
These questions made me so uncomfortable because I am fairly certain that this family would take my answers to be the standard for all American families, and that is really not fair. Also I just thought it was none of their business to know, but I wasn’t sure if I should tell them that flat out, or if that could cause some other bad consequence. Eventually I just started saying “I don’t know” or “I don’t understand your question”—a cheap way out, I know, but I really felt uncomfortable.
Apparently these types of questions are common (once again according to Cuisang). Something I was definitely unprepared for, though. I should probably just loosen up, and realize that people—Chinese, westerners, even myself—will make stereotypes and assumptions from limited information no matter what.
But I’m still not sure how to look at both of these situations… certainly different from any of my previous experiences, hah. This is the true challenge, I think, coping with these differences. We’ll see how I continue to do…
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