Uh…
Ooookay, here we go again. You can do this. Maybe this one won't be so bad.
The waitress glides up to my table, and drops a menu in front of me with a cheerful smile. Then she stands there and waits, pen and pad in hand. I hesitate, and she asks me a question, her Chinese accent too unfamiliar and her delivery too rapid-fire for me to assimilate.
"Uh... Give me a minute," I say in English.
This was not, by all indications, the expected response. I am the subject of a blank stare for a few moments, then her head turns to the side a bit as she calls for reinforcements, her eyes never leaving mine.
Another waitress slips across to us, conferences with her colleague in a low murmur, and turns to gape helpfully in support.
At about this point I start to gradually ease in the Chinese, to help them deal with this new reality. I've quickly learned not to start off in Chinese, since it's far more embarrassing when my vocabulary deserts me mid-stream, leaving me marooned on some distant planet.
Sadly, this effort is not about to raise myself in their estimation.
I point at a picture on the menu, and ask what it is.
Four eyes glance at the menu, then back to me. Hesitantly, the first waitress responds, and an enlightening cultural exchange follows.
"That's pork."
"I see."
"With garlic greens and chilies."
"Ah."
"Would you like that?"
"Ermm... Okay, what's this?"
"That's also pork. It has vegetables."
"Ah. Truly? I'll have that, then. Also, a beer and one bowl of white rice."
I've ventured too far with that last sally, and here comes another flurry of Chinese, too fast for me to follow. Back to English:
"Uh... What?"
Aaaand...
Yes, welcome back to the staring.
This latest exchange seems to have cemented some kind of pact between us though. It is now our tacit agreement that I will continue to act like I should be wearing a foam helmet at all times, and they will proceed accordingly.
For the duration of the meal then, I am offered such delights as "Chopsticks. Okay? These are CHOPSTICKS," and a nice glass of "Tea. T-E-A." When I have gathered the strength of will to ask for the check, I am told that they are owed forty-three yuan, and when I'm fumbling around for my cash, they are happy to illustrate this with a series of raised fingers.
Occasionally, I volunteer that I'm from the States, which is generally greeted with a kind of condescending indulgence, as if to a child who insists he is from outer space despite an obvious lack of antennae and tentacles.
So I imagine my most lasting legacy in Shanghai will be as a short-lived story, passed between hotel and restaurant staff, about that guy who looks Chinese but doesn't speak Chinese.
It can't be that bad, you may be thinking.
I wish, but no... I have independent confirmation, from the closest thing to a friend I've made in Shanghai so far. Today, Lily -- the girl who works in the business center of my hotel -- was delighted to be able to tell me about her friend who works in the gym, who had regaled her that very morning with a story about a Chinese guy who insisted on speaking English to him.
Well. This certainly bodes well for me, when I head into the more rural areas tomorrow.
Some more angst… But this time, from CHINA!!
I'm having a lot of fun here, and I'm pretty excited to be moving on, but right now I think I'm going to address some nagging shadows in my head. Rest assured, some funny/more interesting shit is in the works.
There are some things about Shanghai that have surprised me, either with the simple fact of them, or because of their simultaneous strangeness and familiarity. Every write-up, documentary, or travelogue that mentions China inevitably talks about its duality.
There is plenty of that in evidence here; Jing'an temple, one of Shanghai's major tourist draws, is an 1800-year-old temple tucked into one of the ritziest shopping districts on Earth, surrounded by Dolce, Gucci, and Rolex storefronts. I'm staying in a Marriot, but turn a corner and walk 50 meters, and there's a whole street full of guys in shacks jury-rigged out of old cardboard boxes and construction yard scraps, selling breakfast hot from a sizzling griddle to a jostling crowd of schoolgirls, laborers, matrons, and businessmen in Armani knock-offs.
As for myself, I'm finding it difficult to cope with the maddening confusion in my head. I have been telling all my friends how much I missed real conversation, since I had to make do with limited Chinese on my side, and at best the barest English on the other. But right now I'm sat one table away from an American and a German talking about hotel strategies, and I'm having the strangest, but undeniable, feeling of hostility.
Then I turn my attention to the other two nearby conversations -- the Chinese bartender and receptionist at the counter, or the two Chinese businessmen on my other side -- and I feel like I'm home, despite only being able to understand every third or fourth word. For all I know, they're discussing which type of rusty spoon would be most useful in removing my kidneys while I sleep tonight, but I derive the oddest sensation of comfort simply from the rhythm and melody of the language.
A mystery.
I had a conversation earlier today that might help me find some answers here. As I'm taking the day to relax before a trip to the boonies, I decided to visit the pool for a swim. I was the only one there, aside from a hotel employee who was just staring blankly at the floor. After a couple laps, we started talking. It turns out his job was basically to sit around and wait for me to leave. I asked if he was bored, and he explained that, well... kind of, but not really.
He applied the zhong (middle) in zhong guo (Middle Kingdom, i.e. China) in a way I hadn't heard before. He told me it also applies on a personal level; it's important for people to be zhong, or centered, in themselves. He couched this in terms of social harmony -- in a country as diverse and populous as China, for individuals to be content is really the only way to avoid excessive strife and conflict.
On a social level, this sounds a lot like the national party hotline or something. It's so much the antithesis of the Western way of thinking, where the idea is that you should decide what you want, then strive mightily until you get it. Governing people is so much easier when they're docile, so I can understand why this is such a well-perpetuated attitude.
On a personal level though, and applied rather more selectively, I recognize it as something I desperately need. Not to say I should be completely passive -- there's been plenty of that for me already -- but I should know when to be happy with what I have, so I at least have some kind of home base.
Anyway, there's plenty more to talk about there, but my interest in it can only really be maintained for so long. As for China's duality, I'm rather more interested in the common threads, those constants of Chinese culture that have survived the ravages of the more volatile tendencies.
That sounds a bit grandiose, I suppose, and it's fairly tough to do. So I'll just cop out, stop here, and try to stave off jetlag till some reasonable hour presents itself.