Cultural Differences: Staring

One of the things that I miss about the U.S. is NOT standing out. Here, I'm always different. Take a look at the photo below; it was snapped before a dinner with folks in D's department. Can you guess which one I am? Yep, you guessed it -- I'm the one off to the left who looks like a garden gnome ("Don't mind me, folks; I'm just gonna sneak into your picture . . . ").



Before we came here, one of my friends warned me that people might stare at me. Indeed, they do. While foreigners are increasingly common in China, especially where we are, the sight of D and/or me just walking down the street still grabs the locals' attention. As D puts it, "the way they look at us, you'd think we were walking a panther on a leash!" People will pass us on the sidewalk (on foot, on bikes, whatever) and then turn all the way around to get a better look. These are adults, mind you, not little kids.

Staring isn't considered rude here. At least that's what the guide books tell us. And most of the time, there's no "rude vibe" that comes from the starer (sometimes there is, though, especially from the thuggish young males that hang out in groups on street corners). This is/was hard to get used to because like a lot of U.S. kids, I was always told, "it's not polite to stare!" by my mom/dad (often, I suspect, in response to me fixing my eyes on someone who looked "different").

The worst part about the staring here for me is my uncertainty about what to do when being stared at. I don't understand the protocol. I mean, sometimes the starer is only a foot away (like on the bus). Am I supposed to pretend I don't notice? Am I supposed to strike up polite conversation? My automatic impulse is to yell, "what? do I have a giant booger on my chin?!?", but I know that would be over-reacting. (Besides, I don't know how to say that in Chinese). I do know that looking directly into their eyes is a "staring antidote." When I do that, they immediately stop staring and look away. Direct eye contact isn't as common here as in the U.S., and people don't seem to be expecting it, especially from strangers.

My Kingdom for Dunkin' Donuts Coffee with Cream and Sugar

Before we made our great journey across the sea, we were warned by many sources that "real coffee is hard to find in China. All you can find is instant. And if you do find real coffee, it's terrible."

This isn't exactly true.

They were right that instant coffee is what you commonly find in that you can find instant everywhere -- at grocery stores, at restaurants, people's homes. So, if you're dying for coffee -- so much so that you'll drink something that's a close relative of real coffee, you won't be disappointed. Judging from what I've seen, most people who drink coffee in China drink instant coffee. And, they usually drink some variation of "Milk Coffee" -- instant coffee that has sugar and powdered milk already mixed into it. Instant's entre into the market was probably made easier by the fact that to make it, you "just add hot water," and since all of the water coolers around here have a hot water tap, you're good to go (and since you can't drink tap water here, water coolers are everywhere).

Packages of real coffee (what people here call "ground coffee") are hard to come by. The big international grocery store where we shop only sells one kind of ground coffee. ("International" means that they sell some non-Chinese things, like Land-o-Lakes cheddar cheese.) I've not seen ground coffee for sale anywhere else yet. You definitely can't just run down to the local market and buy this -- they'd only have instant.

You can, however, order real coffee at some restaurants. But this is what you get when you it:


Butter pat used to give you a sense of scale

This is about 4 oz. of coffee. Having been raised on the teat of "free refills" and venti Starbucks, this dinky thing (which I've started referring to as "European sized coffee") is simply not enough. But it has to be. Because coffee here is expensive. And that is what we weren't prepared for.

The coffee in the photo above costs around 2.5 USD (depending on the place where you order it). And that's the cheap coffee (not instant, but the cheapest real coffee on the menu). That means that a cup of coffee is at least as expensive as most meals on restaurant menus. When D and I order coffee with our meal, it doubles the bill's total, and more than doubles it if we order a second cup. It would be cheaper for us to drink beer with our meals (a can of beer is around 30-50 cents USD).

Also, making real coffee is labor intensive. There are no coffee pots at restaurants**; instead, each cup is made by hand using a vacuum method of preparation. This is what the contraption looks like before the water and coffee come into contact with each other:



This method produces a tasty cup of coffee. But most days I just miss crappy drive-through coffee in paper cups (especially, I am embarrassed to admit, Dunkin' Donuts coffee).

Needless to say, the majority of the people in our city (1) don't drink real coffee and (2) probably couldn't afford to even if they wanted to. Even the instant coffee is pretty pricey (and by pricey, I mean it costs about the same as instant coffee in the US, which means that it's expensive here).

So, now you know: Real coffee is hard to find and insanely expensive, but it tastes good if you can get it. Instant coffee is easy to find and also expensive. Of course, the situation may be different in big cities. Our town of 1 million people is small by China's standards.

Notes:
* Coffee shops here are not really coffee shops. They are over-priced restaurants that just happen to feature coffee as the beverage of choice. They think you're a bit weird when you just order coffee. They also serve all kinds of bizzarro coffee drinks. Here I am drinking something called "Noble Lady Coffee" ('cause, ya know, I'm am noble ;-) Note the extended pinky:



And check out the swanky interior of this coffee shop (called U.B.C. Coffee):


This place is huge, and in addition to serving coffee
and food, also serves a full bar

** Coffee pots/makers are hard to come by at stores, too. And expensive. And kind of crappy.

Won't you be my neighbor?

These folks live across the street from us.



In fact, there's a whole neighborhood of these houses across the way, lining the pathway to the village nearby. This is the kind of thing that foreigners like me are startled by -- the extremes that coexist side by side. I live in a gated compound. It looks like a resort hotel. These houses make Loretta Lynn's childhood home look like a tidy suburban residence. And we're only separated by a tiny strip of concrete.

In the U.S. we have our own share of poverty (which is one the rise). My old neighborhood in CNY was a case in point. But it was segregated from the "nicer" parts of the city, even if only by a block or two. And that seems to me to be the main difference. Here, there's a lot less segregation (although I suspect that that will change now that cars are becoming more popular here. The wealthy can live further away, can flee the scene). Poverty here very visible here.

It's not just the people that suffer poverty here; other animals do, too. There are lots of stray dogs and cats around, especially in the village. I saw the saddest puppy the other day, a little black doggie huddled against a filthy building trying to keep out of the rain. It was missing a bit of fur and it looked like nobody loved it. It was difficult to resist my first impulse: to scoop it up and take it home and introducing it to Jameson.

Some of my readers will be relieved to know that the stray dogs leave people alone. In general, they don't approach you or bark at you or chase you or anything. Today, though, a dog fight broke out about 10 feet away from me as I was walking on the path to the village. 3 dogs started fighting with each other and then 4 or 5 more dogs came running from who knows where to join in on the festivities. Instead of vacating my bowels and screaming in terror (my normal reaction), I just calmly walked by, pretending that nothing was happening (I made sure to keep my umbrella handy, though). I even managed to snap a picture of the "loser" as he ran away. You can see his hind end peeking out from behind the wall.

Changing public behavior

I've observed people of all stripes here (old, young, rich, not-so-rich, male, female, etc.) "get comfortable" in public spaces. "Getting comfortable" could mean anything from openly and with great relish picking one's nose on the bus (a favorite hobby of bus riders here) to taking a nap under a tree on the main drag in town (another favorite activity). Getting comfortable also seems to mean doing whatever the hell one wants so long as it doesn't inconvenience someone that one personally knows. That is, the attitude that prevails here is, "If I don't know you, I don't owe you anything." Here, you take care of "your own" and ignore everyone else. Kind of like the mafia.

Due in large part to the upcoming Olympic games, the powers-that-be have started broadcasting Public Service Announcements (PSAs) that try to change some of the behaviors that can make city life in China off-putting to (cash-rich) non-Chinese visitors. In one scene from the most frequently aired PSA, a heart-shaped red balloon (which is supposed to signify something good) is given to a person who chases after a stranger to returns something that the stranger dropped. In another scene, kudos are given to people who don't try to run each other over with their cars. Very mundane stuff to those of us living in most parts of the U.S. (Los Angeles and New York City excluded here, I think).

Rather than use the gentle hand of PSA's to persuade people to change their behavior, our town has taken a decidedly more severe form of behavior modification:



If you look closely at the photo above, you will see that there is barbed wire separating one sidewalk from another. This is done so that the hordes of shoppers, residents, and lookers-on who populate the area will not trample the landscaping that the city paid for. Not pictured in the photo is the barbed wire that the city has thoughtfully laced through the ground cover that lines the sidewalks. And just to drive their point home, the city has decided not to post warning signs. This is a smart decision -- word of mouth is so much more effective.

The Wheels on the Bus . . .

We are car-less here, so we rely on public transportation (or walk). Taxis are insanely cheap, but they are terrifying. The drivers, without fail, exceed every posted speed limit (I think our last taxi driver topped out at 95 mph in town), and like most Chinese drivers, take road rules as mere suggestions. I've even seen several cars driving on sidewalks. Not many taxis have seat belts, either. Because I am a weenie, I've pretty much avoided taxis and take the public buses instead.

Taking the bus in China -- as in the U.S. -- can be many things: boring, exciting, amusing, disgusting, sometimes all at once. They're always a good place to do some people watching, though, and get a sense of how many different kinds of 'locals' there are here. It seems that a big cross-section of the community rides the bus, although this seems likely to change as cars become more popular.

A couple of things about the bus:

1. None of the signs are in English, and there's rarely even Pinyin. So, we've memorized the bus numbers that take us to important places (like school). I know, for example, that if I take the no. 10 from downtown, I'll eventually get home.

2. You have to flag down the buses, even at the bus stop. They sort of slow down as they approach the stops (and they stop if they're letting someone off), but they don't actually stop unless you stick your arm out and wave them down. I find that my new silver and orange striped umbrella helps with this process.

3. When you're on the bus and want to signal a stop, you have to walk to the back of the bus (where the rear doors are) and push a tiny red button to signal your intent to the driver. When the buses are empty, this isn't a big deal (if your balance is good). When the bus is full, you have to burrow your way to the back and hope to hell you make it before the driver passes your stop). Also, once the bus stops, it helps if you leap from the bus to the sidewalk rather than carefully step from the bus, as the drivers tend to basically tap the breaks by way of stopping; no wasted time. And you have to be on the lookout for bicycles and mopeds as you exit the bus because they drive on sidewalk and do not yield to pedestrians (no one yields to pedestrians).

4. Air conditioned buses cost 1 yuan more than non-airconditioned buses. The air-conditioned buses have closed windows and a picture of a snowflake next to the bus number. I have a bus pass, so until it runs out, I don't even have to worry about exact change.

5. You can take pretty much anything you want on the bus. The other day, the floor of the bus was flooded from a woman's shopping bag. Seems she had a live fish from the market in it and had filled the bag with water to keep it alive until she got home. Bag had a leak. Yesterday, I hauled a roll of chicken wire home on the bus. And last week, I watched an old women, wearing pearls and no shoes, shell a bag of chestnuts. China also has its share of people who sleep on the bus. Given how noisy it is, I have no idea how they do it.

6. You can't exit from the front of the bus. If you try to, the bus driver yells at you (guess how I know this).

8. Even though the bus drivers drive like maniacs (just like the taxi drivers), the buses feel safer. At least in an accident we'll be the squashers and not the squashee.

BYOTP

The public bathrooms in China are interesting. For starters, they're mostly squatters -- you can't sit down on them because they're embedded in the floor. You squat above them, hence the name. This takes some getting used to (how do I keep my pants out of the way? What do I do with my packages? etc.) Two additional factors make the experience even more of an adventure. First, the bathrooms are incredibly filthy. The women's rooms here are about as clean as men's rooms in the U.S. There's spit everywhere (people here hock up big lugies and just spit them wherever they want to, including inside buildings) and cigarette butts litter the floor. Second, you have to bring your own toilet paper. The only public bathroom that stocks it (that I've seen) is McDonald's. So, whenever you leave the house, you've got to carry with you a mini-packet of tissues. If you forget, you can purchase them for around 15 cents a piece from enterprising salespeople who hang out around public bathrooms.

Apparently, these are the nice bathrooms. I've heard that there are "trough style" squatters where only a partition about a meter high separates you from your neighbor. These toilets are flushed once an hour (give or take) by a worker who hoses them out.

Of course, little kids around here avoid this unpleasantness altogether. They just pee (and more) wherever and whenever they want. Unfortunately, the parents are not as responsible as dog owners; they generally don't "scoop the poop" afterwards. The only benefit to this arrangement that I can see is that at least diapers aren't filling up landfills here. People don't use them. Pampers seems to be wanting to make inroads here. I saw a commercial for them the other day on tee vee trying to appeal to the "new middle class" here.

For another westerner's take on the squatter, click here. Warning: it's a titch more descriptive than mine.

Afternoon Delight

Today we ate lunch at McDonald's. It's located in a multi-story department store downtown. Let me say this: eating at McDonald's in China is a fabulous experience. It's downright pleasant.

For starters, the workers are friendly; they don't bludgeon you with their surliness the way that the burnouts who staff U.S. mickey d's do. And they're clean. As soon as you finish eating a worker appears seemingly out of nowhere to clean the spot you've vacated. And the food is hot -- even the french fries.

The best part, though, is that the McDonald's restaurants here sell old-school pies -- the kind that are deep-fried and have that flaky, puckered skin (none of this baked crap that they switched to in the U.S.). They sell apple and some other kind (I can't quite tell what it is, but it's purple in color).

One other thing I've observed -- you can ask for plastic gloves with your food when your order -- the kind of gloves that food handlers wear in the U.S. It seems that the folks here don't like to touch their food with their hands, so they tend to do one of two things: use a glove or keep their burgers half-wrapped in the wrapper they come in. Some people, like me, are just barbarians and go at it bare hands and all.

PBR me ASAP

When we went to the local supermarket today, we were in search of beer. They stocked the local brews, of course, but they also had imports. From Denmark they had Carlsberg. Also from Denmark, Heinken. From the U.S.? Pabst Blue Ribbon. No Budweiser, no microbrews, just good old white trash beer. Made my heart go pitter patter.

For your viewing enjoyment, today's photo is of me and D's dad viewing an elm tree.

Welcome to China

Well, we made it. Our route: 1.45 hr. car ride from parents' house to East coast airport. 6 hr. plane ride from east coast to west coast. 10 hr. lay-over in West Coast Airport. 12.5 hr. plane ride from West coast to Seoul. 4 hr. layover in Seoul. 2.25 hr. plane ride from Seoul to Guangzhou. 2 hr. van ride from airport to seaside city.

Did I mention that we brought our cat along for this journey? And that we had enough luggage for 4 people?

Holy crap. We are t-i-r-e-d.

But, we made it. And it's really cool -- and more than a little surreal -- to be in China. For so long now, we've been looking forward to this, and now we are here. In the short time that we've been here, we've already experienced some of the funny-odd things that we've read about: Chinese yelling "hello, hello" at us (maybe the only English words they know?); terror-inspiring cab rides (our last cabbie seemed to be practicing his formula one racing skills); 'different' food experiences (D's dad digging into a seemingly 'normal' bowl of soup only to find a chicken foot).

The biggest difference, of course, is the communication issue. In some ways it is very liberating not to be able to speak or read the language. Someone talking about me? Who cares! I can't tell. Annoying tee vee commercial? Who cares! It's all funny to me when I can't figure out what's being said. Too many options on a restaurant menu? No problem -- just point to one -- don't know what's what anyway (and isn't the surprise part of the fun?!). Being me, I did have D's dad write out in Chinese the characters for "Caution" and "Warning" -- I might not know what the danger in any situation is, but at least I'll know to pay attention. You do what you can.

Tomorrow I meet one of my new colleagues. I am very excited, as she seems really nice. She's from New Zealand, and I could listen to her talk all day -- great accent!

Tomorrow's challenge: get a mobile phone. And not freak out when I see someone on a bicycle with 30 or so live chickens strapped to it.