(no subject)
Today, a teacher at my school was wearing a pink shirt with white letters: "So I see you've already met the twins." I walked past her and my jaw fell right open. More likely than not, she had no clue what her shirt said, but... wow, we work in an elementary school! So there. That is my little anecdote to let the few of you who read this know that my life here isn't hell. I hear hell is more a dry heat. Here, I feel like I'm swimming the second I walk out of the air-conditioned confines of my semi-slumlike apartment. But no, it's not hell.
One of my missions here has been to find a little mom and pop noodle restaurant and go there so frequently that they know me by name and treat me like a daughter. Aaaand possibly give me a discount on food. Last week, Cristina, Chris, and I went out to look for such a place, but it was about 9pm and most eating places weren't cooking anymore. One lady, however, tracked us down and insisted that, even though her cook had already gone home, we come with her so she could make sure we were fed. Amazing food and dirt cheap. The woman is so nice, too. We've been back a good amount of times and she never makes us pay full price. There are usually about 2 kittens in the store whenever we eat there. Do they eat cats in China or is that just dog?
We've also met a few locals here who speak English! At first we were relieved- finally, someone to show us around! One was a girl our age who took us out to dinner and do a little shopping. She's really nice, but right away she linked arms with Cristina. This isn't at all uncommon in China, but Cristina and I definitely noticed that she didn't do that with me, a sure indication that she was treating us like trophy girl friends. I look like a local, therefore I'm not put on such a pedestal. The other local is a business man, about 27 years old with a wife and baby. Today, he treated us to dinner at a coffee shop. Dinner? At a coffee shop? I had always wondered why the coffee places here were so huge. They seriously take up entire levels of the taller buildings. The one we went to had sofa like seating and was faaaancy! Looking at the menu, they had loads of things to eat. I chose the spaghetti because in English, it said "with cheese." Chbong! But obviously it wasn't really what I expected because, hell, this is China. The sauce was a bit funny, but still good. And instead of a spattering of parmesan, they just stuck a Kraft single on the top and waited for it to melt a little bit. Oh, China. Anyway, Anthony (the Chinese business man) wants me to come with him to Shanghai to help make connections with a potential Oregonian client. This client has a daughter studying in China and he thinks that my passion for the Pacific Northwest would be a good in for him. Oh yes, another thing big here is the returning of favors, or "guanxi." Frankly, it sounds like a fun (and free) adventure, but I'm not going without my roommate, thanks.
After dinner, we went to a pub where apparently all the foreigners go. Only one other foreigner and the bugger didn't even say hi. Whatev, yo. Cristina and Chris pretty much had to make their own drinks because the bartenders here are clueless. "Bacardi rum and Coke? You crazy foreigners." I was happy when I understood Jack Daniel in Chinese. They had popcorn, a very nice touch. I don't even care that it was kettle corn. And like always, the bartenders thought I was a local, so when my friends were ordering their drinks in English, they would look at my for an interpretation. I just smiled and spoke back in English since there's no gain in me learning how to say gin and tonic in Chinese. Meh.
Being here, it's weird to think that most of the world thinks Americans are loud and obnoxious. When I walk down the streets, guys are hacking snot from the deepest abyss of their throats, and on jackpot days, decorating the walls with their urine. Mmm, smells nice. But at the bar, we got into this amazing argument about how Americans don't speak English. Cristina was on my side, obviously, because she's a smart one. This all got started after I said "mobile." Cell phone. But the UKers pronounce it mo-BILE, instead of "MO-bull" and Chris threw a fit. The stubborn Scotsman wouldn't budge even after I countered all his arguments and pointed out that he himself had contradicted everything he had said. I so won.
So yes, thanks everyone for the responses to my previous entry. I am fully aware that this is what it's like to be in a different country. I'm learning so much, and one of those things is that the locals are learning from me, too. I am in love with the idea that I can open their eyes a little. But it's hard when the progress of that isn't perceptible, when everyday people get suspicious and ask me where I'm from. It sucks when I come off as a dumb Chinese person when I'm trying so, so hard to be an openminded American. I don't want to be dumb.
This is too long. Leave me something to remind me of home, please?
One of my missions here has been to find a little mom and pop noodle restaurant and go there so frequently that they know me by name and treat me like a daughter. Aaaand possibly give me a discount on food. Last week, Cristina, Chris, and I went out to look for such a place, but it was about 9pm and most eating places weren't cooking anymore. One lady, however, tracked us down and insisted that, even though her cook had already gone home, we come with her so she could make sure we were fed. Amazing food and dirt cheap. The woman is so nice, too. We've been back a good amount of times and she never makes us pay full price. There are usually about 2 kittens in the store whenever we eat there. Do they eat cats in China or is that just dog?
We've also met a few locals here who speak English! At first we were relieved- finally, someone to show us around! One was a girl our age who took us out to dinner and do a little shopping. She's really nice, but right away she linked arms with Cristina. This isn't at all uncommon in China, but Cristina and I definitely noticed that she didn't do that with me, a sure indication that she was treating us like trophy girl friends. I look like a local, therefore I'm not put on such a pedestal. The other local is a business man, about 27 years old with a wife and baby. Today, he treated us to dinner at a coffee shop. Dinner? At a coffee shop? I had always wondered why the coffee places here were so huge. They seriously take up entire levels of the taller buildings. The one we went to had sofa like seating and was faaaancy! Looking at the menu, they had loads of things to eat. I chose the spaghetti because in English, it said "with cheese." Chbong! But obviously it wasn't really what I expected because, hell, this is China. The sauce was a bit funny, but still good. And instead of a spattering of parmesan, they just stuck a Kraft single on the top and waited for it to melt a little bit. Oh, China. Anyway, Anthony (the Chinese business man) wants me to come with him to Shanghai to help make connections with a potential Oregonian client. This client has a daughter studying in China and he thinks that my passion for the Pacific Northwest would be a good in for him. Oh yes, another thing big here is the returning of favors, or "guanxi." Frankly, it sounds like a fun (and free) adventure, but I'm not going without my roommate, thanks.
After dinner, we went to a pub where apparently all the foreigners go. Only one other foreigner and the bugger didn't even say hi. Whatev, yo. Cristina and Chris pretty much had to make their own drinks because the bartenders here are clueless. "Bacardi rum and Coke? You crazy foreigners." I was happy when I understood Jack Daniel in Chinese. They had popcorn, a very nice touch. I don't even care that it was kettle corn. And like always, the bartenders thought I was a local, so when my friends were ordering their drinks in English, they would look at my for an interpretation. I just smiled and spoke back in English since there's no gain in me learning how to say gin and tonic in Chinese. Meh.
Being here, it's weird to think that most of the world thinks Americans are loud and obnoxious. When I walk down the streets, guys are hacking snot from the deepest abyss of their throats, and on jackpot days, decorating the walls with their urine. Mmm, smells nice. But at the bar, we got into this amazing argument about how Americans don't speak English. Cristina was on my side, obviously, because she's a smart one. This all got started after I said "mobile." Cell phone. But the UKers pronounce it mo-BILE, instead of "MO-bull" and Chris threw a fit. The stubborn Scotsman wouldn't budge even after I countered all his arguments and pointed out that he himself had contradicted everything he had said. I so won.
So yes, thanks everyone for the responses to my previous entry. I am fully aware that this is what it's like to be in a different country. I'm learning so much, and one of those things is that the locals are learning from me, too. I am in love with the idea that I can open their eyes a little. But it's hard when the progress of that isn't perceptible, when everyday people get suspicious and ask me where I'm from. It sucks when I come off as a dumb Chinese person when I'm trying so, so hard to be an openminded American. I don't want to be dumb.
This is too long. Leave me something to remind me of home, please?