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.