The ABC’s of China!

(Heather)

Below, in alphabetical order, you can find some of my thoughts on China thus far!

A: Attention Span:
I’ve only been “teaching” for two days thus far, but American students take note—students here listen to EVERY WORD you say with rapt attention. In fact, I’m reasonably certain I could read straight from an IRS tax manual to the Chinese students, and they’d listen quietly, avidly, and respectfully. I’m chalking this up to the vast differences in pedagogy between our two countries—in China, the teacher is the expert, and classes are conducted as such. The teacher presents material, and students listen, absorb, and retain. There are few questions, and the concept of “tell me your thoughts about this poem or story” is completely foreign. In fact, I spoke with a student today who is likely spending a year at a high school in Canada, and her biggest fear revolved around this difference—she was terrified at the thought of having to put forth her own thoughts about class material.

B: Buildings:

Rarely heated. To be fair, my apartment has a very sturdy wall-mounted heater in the bedroom, but using the bathroom in the morning is another story altogether. It’s like journeying to Antarctica to brush my teeth and go about morning business. Future China Exchange teachers, I give you these two words: Long Underwear.

C: Chopsticks:
I’m becoming a pro. Really. I could use them adequately prior to the trip, but I think I’ll even be able to eat soup with them by the end of our two months. I also have chopstick preferences now; natural wooden or bamboo chopsticks are best, as they’re grippier (is that a word?) and easier to grasp food with. Plastic or excessively polished chopsticks may be lovely or beautifully engraved, but they’re slippery.

D: Driving:
Terrifying. There are SO many cars on the roads, and watching a bus come straight at you as your driver weaves the van in and out of tiny, inappropriately sized gaps is heart-palpitation inducing. For those of you out there who are Harry Potter fans, the scene where the night bus swooshes between two other vehicles should come to mind.

E: Eel:
What I’m reasonably certain was on my dinner plate tonight (it was actually kind of tasty…it was spiced nicely). China has been an adventure, palate wise, though, gratefully, there’s always rice. The five of us are rather lucky, as the school has provided us with specialized meals created by an award winning chef, and as according to Didi and Cindy, two of last year’s exchange students, our food is substantially superior to the regularly offered fare.

F: Fear:
Or lack thereof. It is astounding to me how many locals simply ride (helmetless, nonetheless) a dilapidated and rusty bicycle or ramshackle scooter straight into the middle of a multi-lane intersection, and straight into oncoming traffic.

G: Gifts:
China is a gift-giving culture, and I know Max and I have been on the receiving end of some incredibly kind and lovely gifts…this is, of course, in addition to the overwhelming generosity of the high school to all of us on the day of arrival.

H: Hangzhou High School:
Our home away from home, and so centrally located. I had no idea how close to major attractions the school would be.

I: Insects:
See photos of Max, Dareus, and Timmy eating bugs in Lijiang (they should be in the slideshow; we were told the bugs were hornet larvae).

      

J: Jaywalking:
Reference letter F. Locals also WALK straight in front of oncoming cars, scooters, mopeds, etc, regardless of the color of the traffic light.

K: Kids:
Reference letter Q. Despite repeatedly being told I cannot POSSIBLY be my actual age, and consistently mistaken for one of the students, I nevertheless am frequently asked if I plan on having kids, and why we don’t have any already!

L: Laundry:
I have to say, life gets better (and you feel like a competent, fully-functioning adult) once you’ve figured out how to use your Chinese washing machine. Indeed, once I learned that a box with a line through it is the symbol for “middle,” or medium size load, all of those dials and tabs started to make sense. For those of you living in the lap of Western luxury back home, the washer here is approximately ¼ the size of a normal one at home, and only uses cold water. Drying clothes entails clipping them onto hangers, and letting the heated air in my bedroom work wonders.

M: Mĕi-guó-rén:
The word for American. It’s one of the few Chinese words I recognize, and it’s especially noticeable when an adorable little kid looks at you with eyes the size of saucers, and then turns to his/her mother and shouts mĕi-guó-rén! mĕi-guó-rén!

N: Nicotine:
Everybody smokes here, and everybody smokes everywhere, as well. It’s such a dramatic cultural shift from home, as smoking there has all but disappeared from public view. Locals here think nothing of lighting up in the middle of a hotel lobby, restaurant, or crowded store, and it’s not uncommon to see teenagers strolling down the street with cigarettes dangling from their lips. Every corner store or street stall sells cigarettes, and the “willingly surrendered” bins in front of security at the airports are positively BRIMMING with lighters. It’s odd, really, when you think about it, as the Chinese are so health conscious in some ways, and believe so strongly in the efficacy and purpose of TCM (traditional Chinese medicine) in particular. Likewise, residents of Beijing and other major cities spend oodles on air purifiers due to pollution, and then think nothing of purchasing a pack of cigarettes on the way home from work.

O: Oreos:
Are incredibly popular here, and available in more flavors than you could imagine—raspberry, ice cream, pistachio, mango, etc. Who knew?!

P: Photos:
I’ve had more taken of me—with and without my permission—than at any time since my wedding!

Q: Questions of a personal nature…
In an odd cultural twist, the Chinese are incredibly forthright about questions Americans are tightlipped about, and incredibly reserved about topics that are commonplace for Americans. For instance, divorce is a topic that is RARELY or never discussed here, and yet I’ve been asked directly and without hesitation how old I am, if I’m married, if I have kids, why I don’t have kids, when we’re going to have kids, what my salary is, and what my husband’s salary is. I’m reasonably certain that if I wasn’t married, I’d be receiving advice about how to make that happen as quickly as possible.

R: Rice:
I like rice. It’s a good thing, too, because I’ve eaten more rice over the past three weeks than I have in years. The Chinese love of rice, and its presence at every meal, is one stereotype that is unabashedly, unreservedly, absolutely, positively true.

S: Spitting:
I had heard it was common, and hoped it wasn’t true. Alas, it is—both common and true. Honestly, this is one cultural difference I am struggling to overcome my disdain for, as it simply goes against every Western/American idea about cleanliness and polite behavior that’s embedded from birth. The sound effects that accompany the expectoration are perhaps the most disturbing element—most locals start with a loud, phlegmy throat clearing, followed by a swish of the spit in the mouth, followed by a profuse hooocck and thwoocck until the clump of spit hits the ground, the wall, or your foot if you’re not quick enough.

T: Tea:
I am quite looking forward to seeing the famous tea fields in Hangzhou—and I adore the Chinese preference for tea over coffee. (See my second blog post about tea-tasting in Huangshan as well).

U: Unflinching nerves of steel…
See letters F and J.

V: Vendors
Oh, my, the vendors and hawkers here can be so pushy. (Side note: I found it hysterical when we saw a sign stating “no hawking” in Yangshuo, and Max and Dareus and Timmy all thought it meant that falconry or birding was prohibited in that crowded pedestrian area). To be perfectly honest, I think much of their aggression (peaceful, non-violent aggression, if you can contemplate that contradiction) stems from my blonde hair, blue eyes, and clear “FOREIGNER! TOURIST!” status. Merely glancing backward at a pretty scarf or delicate piece of embroidery is enough to bring over a saleslady, who starts singing the praises of the item—“very pretty, good price, you buy, yes, yes, very pretty, you like?” Honestly, the CIA should recruit some of these merchants as operatives, as in some cases I didn’t think I signaled out a particular item, but the seller, through some Jedi-mind-magic-telepathy-Borg hive-consciousness power, honed in on the precise thing I liked/wanted. (Blame Ben for the Star Wars and Star Trek references there. That those are in my repertoire is his fault).

W: West Lake
Hangzhou’s centerpiece and crowning glory. It’s truly a lovely place, and the opportunity to spend a month in immediate proximity to it is incredible.

X: Xié Xie!
Mandarin for thank you!

Y: Yak Meat:
Actually quite delicious—it tastes a great deal like beef.

Z: Zài jiàn!
Mandarin for good-bye!