My return from Chengdu was immediately followed by one of those unfortunate evenings where many people cram into a crowded club and drink lots of alcohol, I end up paying for all of it, then reluctantly ask people for money in the ensuing days. Theresa, a team-member from work, was in town for a week, and had tasked me with organizing her weekend evenings. This sounds a lot easier than it really is. I’ve entertained a boatload of guests from overseas, but it’s always a challenge when that guest has never been to Asia before, doesn’t speak the language, is a co-worker, and most relevant, is not a dude looking to prey on cute, giggly Chinese girls.
All in all, I think I stepped up to the challenge quite adequately, mainly by making sure that other co-workers who shared her whiteness traits were also invited. In the process, I exposed my personal life to those that I have to run into at work every day; this is new to me and I am quite afraid. I’ve usually been able to surround myself with people who, if not capable of thinking exactly like I do (i.e. Steve and Keith), can readily comprehend me (i.e. Mike and Eddy), or who don’t give a shit but like to drink lots and lots of beer (i.e. Chace). It’s been a while since I’ve had to be in the company of strangers, and after listening Theresa describe her experiences in this, her first trip to China, I couldn’t help but feel more and more removed from them, like there was a natural barrier between me and her, just as there was when I was in the States and had to fight those feelings of being different when I was talking to people by the last name of Van Wert or Purdie or Negri.
“This has been a total culture shock,” she said to me as I walked her back to her hotel after work. “I mean, I was ready for the spitting, the dirtiness, the table manners. But it has been a culture shock nevertheless.”
“I guess you can hear things all you want, you won’t really get it until you see it for yourself,” I replied.
“Yeah, exactly! Today, I was in a meeting with —– , and all of sudden she just opened her mouth and burped. And I was in total shock. She did it like, three times…like it was nothing”
I started laughing. Freedom of burping had been part of my family for years; it had been ingrained in such a way that I never really even understood why it was seen as all that gross to begin with.
Later, we had lunch with some more expats, who were commenting on the oxymoron of Chinese folks who insisted on walking around the house without shoes, but had no qualms picking at communal dishes during a meal with chopsticks that had been put into their mouths several times over.
“It’s so weird that they’re [Chinese] so anal about having the dinner table clean, but they’ll eat any shit that’s put in front of them.”
I have been here for two and half years, and it felt like for the first time, I was listening in on how this other sub-segment of foreigners really felt. I couldn’t be a part of this discussion. I didn’t feel like defending these heinous (italics indicating sarcasm) Chinese practices, but no way in hell was I going to join in on the fun either.
In many ways, I can appreciate the culture shock that these guys feel. Theresa lamented: “I don’t want to be THAT American girl, you know. The one who comes in and complains and doesn’t make an effort to reach out. I’m really trying.”
I thought about what she was saying, and I’m sure she was. And my thoughts wandered to these other co-workers who had now been introduced to my circle of pals. My wonderful friends who don’t think twice about taking off their shoes, who burp at will but still grimace when the taxi driver hawks a loogey, who freely dip their chopsticks into the bubbling hot-pot of goodness, who always want a clean table before we sit down. These things are second nature to me; some of them are embedded in me as a Chinese-American, and some things cannot be stripped away from me as an American-Chinese. And while I’ve poked fun and taken swipes at locals here in previous posts, the fact remains that I chose to came here on my own, and as such I vigilently maintain an open mind and hesitate to criticize, unless phlegm lands on my shoes. I’m proud of the people here. When folks like Theresa come to visit and are totally lost, there are always co-workers who sacrifice their weekends and evenings to take them to the same old Bund, the same old Jade Garden, the same old Xiangyang market, the same old DVD stops. And they do this without complaint. I have a feeling my fellow citizens back in the States would be hard pressed to do this if the situation were reversed.
I like Theresa, and I was impressed that she was trying so hard to reach out and to understand. But culture shock is what it is…a shock. Sometimes you need a little help, especially if something little like burping is the thing that’s unnerving you. So I made her stop walking, looked her straight in the eye, lifted up my left leg, and ripped a huge fart.
Hey man, she never said anything about ripping one.
