***
My first week in the motherland started with a domestic
goose chase and took me through four different cities—Beijing, Jinan, Xiamen
and Suzhou. A Harlem Globetrotter sat a couple seats away from me on my flight
across the Pacific. I was forced to ask numerous people on the street for directions
after the taxi driver dropped me off a bit far from my grandparent’s place. I
saw starfish and alcohol with a dead snake soaking in it at a buffet (partaking
in neither). Out of the blue, through general osmosis, I improved my chopstick
skills. But rather than rely on a disjointed recap or an overly tedious
play-by-play, I’ll stick to a few of the things that stood out most from week
one.
1. There’s a weird
paradox between being “advanced” and amusingly basic/inadequate. Every time
I discuss my upbringing in the United States, people are always amused when I
admit that I cannot read Chinese beyond an elementary level. In Xiamen, my dad
and I were talking to a pair of younger 20-somethings. Many conversation topics
involved life overseas and the immigration process, as well as things that
China could improve on compared to the U.S. In these aspects, we were the
authority. At the same time, my inability to read and write as well as my dad’s
unawareness of several recent country icons/celebrities led to jokes about us
being the equivalent to an oblivious country bumpkin and his illiterate son.
I’ve never felt the concept of third culture so vividly.
2. It’s fascinating
to hear the specifically different dialects in each province. I always knew
that there was a vast array of different accents and dialects across China, but
I now more fully appreciate just how things evolved through time. Before, I thought
of things as Mandarin or Cantonese with a few different accents sprinkled in,
much like how people sound different in Georgia compared to Long Island. But China
is actually much more similar to how things were with different languages among
Native American tribes, with every city/province having their own unique
language that has slowly conformed closer to Mandarin. Still, it’s impossible
to understand each region’s own language. Thus, most every Chinese person that
doesn’t live in Beijing in effect knows two languages besides bits of English.
It’s also interesting to think that Cantonese wouldn’t be so common in the U.S.
if the majority of initial immigrants weren’t from Guangdong. Likewise, “Pu
Tong Hua” could easily have been some other dialect besides what is known as
Mandarin today if the government had decided to make for example Shanghainese
or Fujian or Suzhou dialect the national language.
3. Physically being
in China and seeing the environment (except much worse) where my parents grew
up really makes me appreciate what they’ve accomplished all the more. I
always knew that what they did in immigrating and learning a new language wasn’t
easy, but seeing how easily my dad can fit back in with the Chinese culture
serves as an explanation for many of the things that I might grow annoyed at in
the U.S. It’s a great reminder that I am remarkably blessed to have the life I
have today, because I would have been living a completely different lifestyle
if they had decided to remain in China and play it safe with their life
ambitions. Whatever cultural idiosyncrasies and things lost in translation are
a very small price to pay, and at no point should hinder my appreciation for
their courageous and inspiring accomplishments in a completely new land.
4. Another paradox
seems to exist between friends who are courteous to the max and random people
on the street who couldn’t care less about you. It seems to be a population
of extremes. When you’re being hosted as guests, your hosts are really going to
go above and beyond to wine and dine and send gifts and the whole nine yards.
Otherwise, on the streets people aren’t going to be helpful, and instead are
probably going to try and jip you or trick you for an extra buck. Meanwhile in
America, we are usually more courteous to strangers at all times, saying “thanks”
and “excuse me” etc. but generally lax about hosting friends and sending gifts
to third cousins and friends of friends who happen to be in town.
5. It's tough to deal with the pollution and traffic of Beijing. Seeing
the smoggy gray haze inspires a worse depression than the worst rainy day. Even
the green leaves of trees seem faded and slightly wilted, as if they are
overwhelmed by the amount of CO2 they have to deal with. It makes exercising
and running not only tough, but counterproductive, and I dislike battling the
weird smells of gasoline and other unidentifiable unpleasantries on a daily
basis. Call me a spoiled and sensitive American, but it is what it is. The pollution
amount is a lot better in Xiamen and Suzhou, but the driving is bad everywhere.
Both cars and mopeds are obnoxious and wild, weaving around without regard to
lines or anything resembling a right of way. It seems that people use their
horns significantly more than they use turn signals, and that includes mopeds
honking at pedestrians as well. It also seems like people will turn on to a
street expecting the significantly higher speeds of traffic to change lanes to
make way for them, which ironically draws no honking. Just one week in, and I’ve
already given up feeling nervous about a car coming way too close for comfort. Surprisingly though,
I feel like fewer cars here bear marks of an accident than in America. Just
won’t be getting behind the wheel myself any time soon.
