What Happens in China... Goes on my Blog.

Living in China is very different from living in a country like America.  For one thing, there are about 1 billion more people in China than America.  Aside from all the cultural aspects that showcase those differences (check my last blog post for some of the… less glamorous differences), there are other aspects to living in China that make for excellent, if not odd, stories.  These are those stories.

 

The Lobster Story.

 The Context:  I am walking to a meeting with one of my professors in the business building on the opposite side of campus calmly listening to music and generally being foreign.

The Place:  Sidewalk outside of the journalism building (not near any restaurant, lake, or aquatic anything)

What happened?

Pictured:  Sebastian Rockin' Out in China

This happened.

WTF?:  I don’t know how this happened either.  There, in the middle of the sidewalk, a lobster.  Was it lonely? Was it lost? Was it staging a breakout from a secret communist lobster prison intent on making delicious buttery gourmet meals?  I have no idea.  What I do know is this lobster was: 1. Big enough to freak me out. 2. Lobster-y enough to freak me out. And 3.  Probably really hungry (Do lobsters eat Chinese food?  Probably not.).

What did I do?:  I casually took a picture with my phone from a distance (so the lobster wouldn’t attack me) and walked away wondering if I should have taken it as a pet.

 

The “I want you to be my language partner” Story.

The Context:  I am not feeling that well, so I go outside to get some fresh air (or as fresh as you can get in Beijing).  I decide to walk around Beijing Language and Culture University because it is really close to my apartment.

The Place:  Beijing Language and Culture University park as I am walking back to my apartment after getting moderately non-carcinogenic fresh air.

What Happened?  Some random Chinese girl very creepily walks up and asks me if I want a language partner to practice my Chinese with.  She is switching between speaking English and Chinese yet I still understand her.  I tell her that I don’t have time for a language partner this week because I have too many exams but that I will have time next week.  I give her my phone number and name.  I then walk back towards my apartment.  About half a mile away from the initial encounter as I am about to cross the street to enter my apartment complex, I look behind me and see the Chinese girl running towards me with another Chinese girl in tow.

WTF?:  I thought I had made myself quite clear.  In multiple languages.  I. Don’t.  Have. Time. Now.  That was apparently lost on these Chinese girls.  The Chinese girl I had first talked to chastised me for walking so slow and then proceeded to introduce me to my soon-to-be language partner. 

What did I do?:  I had the exact same conversation with her as I had with the previous Chinese girl and had bust out my not that impressive Chinese skills to explain that I didn’t have time and that she should call me next week.  They were not ashamed at all for chasing me a half-mile down the street.  Weird? Yes.  Odd? Yes.  Flattering?  Not Really.

 

The Silk Market Story. 

The Context: I decide that since it is getting sunny out (or as sunny as it can get with the Air/Smog) that I need a hat and sunglasses.

The Place:  The Silk Market.  This is where you go to buy all the fake brand name goods you could have ever wanted. I decide I want to get a Polo hat and aviator sunglasses.

What Happened?:  I am standing in this one store trying on different hats.  I finally decide that instead of the Polo hat that I went to the market looking for, I want to get a Lacoste hat.  I pick up the hat, try it on.  All good.  I then start the strenuous task of price negotiation.  It is actually more of a ‘war’ than it is a ‘task’ but that’s not the point.  Point being.  As I am negotiating on price and an refusing to pay more then 30 Yuan, the woman begins to freak out at me.  The highlight of her freak out being this:

            Me:  I’ll give you 30 Yuan, no more.

            Saleswoman:  OPEN YOUR BIG EYES. THIS HAT IS GREAT QUALITY

WTF?:  My big eyes?  I’m sorry, are my eyes big?  Was that racism?  Maybe? Yes.  It was racist.  I just got made fun of for having “Big” eyes. 

What did I do?:  I kicked the woman in the shins, stuck my tongue out at her, grabbed the hat and ran without paying.  I was bad-ass.

That’s a lie.  I ended up paying 35 Yuan for the hat and left morally dejected and self-conscious about my massive eyes.  I wore the sunglasses I bought for a week to hide my planet sized eyes.

All of these stories may seem random (and that's because they are random), but the important thing to take away from this is that living in China can provide you unique experiences that you can't get by living in such  thriving metropolises like Oxford, Ohio or Buffalo Grove, Illinois.  There have been other stories that I have gained from being here, but out of fear (of the government) I will not post some of the stories until I return to America.  Even though I was almost trampled by a lobster, kidnapped by a language tutor, and racially belittled by a saleswoman, I can honestly say that I still love living in China and it is an experience I wouldn't trade for anything, except maybe smaller eyes.

Chinese Habits that I kind of possibly maybe hate with every cell in my body

It is obvious that there are going to be many cultural differences and social habits that are different from the United States and China.  What might not be as obvious is how… not pleasing some of those habits can be.  This post is all about the non-awesomeness of some socially acceptable habits that would get you flogged in America.

Spitting.

People spit in America.  People hawk up loogies like it’s their job in China.  When people spit in America, they are subtle about it and will usually spit on the grass and always away from other people.  In China, people will spend up to 10 seconds hawking up a massive loogie and then spit it wherever they feel like.  When you walk down the sidewalk, you have to watch the ground to make sure you don’t step in spit.

Now I’m sure you are all reading this and picturing some random guy who is probably not very well off in China walking down the street and spitting.  This is not the case.  Everyone spits in China.  Little Kids.  Old Ladies.  Businessmen in suits.  Taxi drivers (they will hawk up a loogie and then open the door and spit it out).  This is one habit I:

    1.     Will not adopt

2.     Can’t stand

And 3.  Makes me miss America.

Sh*tting.  Pissing.

When we in America need to do our business, we find a bathroom, and handle the problem.  Babies have diapers and those diapers get changed in the private confines of a bathroom.

NOT IN CHINA.

In China the concept of a diaper has just not caught on for a significant amount of the population.  While adults may not poo and pee in the streets, little kids pick the burden of defiling the ground.  Little kids often wear pants that are slit in the front and back so that when it is ‘time’ they can just squat.  Now, you may say “As gross as that is, at least the little kids will drop their deuces in the woods or pee on a tree.” 

No.

The kids relieve themselves wherever they see fit.  The Sidewalk.  Trashcans.  Cultural Relics. 

I can’t talk about this anymore.  It’s making me sick.

 

Not Queuing Up.

Chinese people have a strong aversion to lines.  When you go to by food, when you go to buy a ticket to visit the summer palace, when you try and get into a cab, when you are trying to get into a taxi, when you try to just about anything, someone will cut you off and take your spot.  It’s terrible.  Most times, the people who but you in line will look at you as if to dare you to do something about it.  Being a foreigner, I usually just let it slide because I don’t want to get into a fight with someone because my Chinese language skills are not good enough to yell at someone (though I do know some decent curse words).  Other times I just can’t take it anymore and will just elbow/push the person behind me and stare right back at them daring to do something about it.  It is gratifying reclaiming my spot in line.  Very gratifying.

 

I’ll see you all in a few months when I return to the United Awesome States of America.

 

PS- Boston University hockey blows.