Week 1: A Country Bumpkin and his Illiterate Son

Rather than attempting to start a separate blog about my time in China only to have it inevitably fade into a short-lived endeavor that would feature neither the quality nor quantity to stand on its own, I’ve going to just continue blogging here on trusty ol’ Proverbial Putts. Ideally, I’ll put to use some of the writing style and general know-how I learned from the infamous Images of China class, but I’ll settle for a few golden nuggets of travel journalism here and there.

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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.