1. Chinese powerwashing: this is the term I've given to the ubiquitous cleaning technique used by Chinese people everywhere, that being water and a dirty rag. I understand that in most areas, people don't have the disposable income for Windex and paper towels (and that the Chinese aren't as wasteful as Westerners, so they probably wouldn't use paper towels anyway), but in certain stores or buildings, I know that the staff can take a trip down to the B&Q (Chinese Home Depot) and get real cleaning materials. Chinese powerwashing is literally used for everything, from cleaning your house (I had to re-clean mine), to washing windows, to wiping down furniture and other household items. I'm not sure if anyone's noticed, but a. the water in China isn't clean to begin with and b. you just move the dirt around without really cleaning anything.
2. Chinese architecture: a lot of people think that because Chinese people can build high rise apartments and other structures in half the time that it takes the West, this means the buildings are half as safe. There are assuredly two sides to this argument, so let's assume that first, Western contractors suck in that they get paid a lot of money to scratch their ass and take their sweet time building things and second, that Chinese buildings aren't as safe as European/American ones. Why, you ask? If you've ever seen Chinese contractors, you know that aside from the professionally (Western) trained ones who know how to operate machinery and draw blueprints, the people who actually bring in the materials and put them together use techniques that probably haven't varied much since the Great Wall was made. Case in point, there is a nice high rise apartment development going on right next to where I live, so everyday I walk past the skyhooks and scaffolding while also noticing the people putting up walls and windows with almost no equipment.
3. I am an interesting anomaly in this country: as a Korean-American, I'm not really Korean but often mistaken for Chinese. Most Chinese people think I'm Chinese, and most Korean people think I'm Korean, showing that there isn't a good method to tell Asians apart. Westerners, however, lose their shit when they figure out I'm really American. Europeans always tell me how nice it is that Wuxi is becoming such an international city and grill me about the Presidential election and the Americans I've met are happy just to have a fellow expat to talk to (Americans aren't as well represented here as the Brits and Aussies). That being said, because I am a dick I do take advantage of this situation purely for my own amusement. Exhibit A: I wait for Westerners to try and awkwardly communicate with me via gestures and staring before I talk to them in English and tell them that I'm from Detroit. Exhibit B: I go along with it when Chinese people talk to me in Chinese, but if I really don't feel like carrying on a conversation I'll say, "You know I'm not Chinese, right?" (in Mandarin)...they then feel awkward and usually leave me alone.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Before I Forget, More China Moments
Some China moments that aren't long enough to put into story form, so I'm writing them down now:
A conversation which took place yesterday:
Me: So how do you think the US was able to win a gold medal in the Olympics this year but not in 2004?
Mick (28 year-old male): I think this is because the United States used many black players that were very good athletes. For instance, the black man is very powerful and can jump very high, but the yellow man is naturally not as fast.
Me: You know what, I think I agree with you.
During my first week here at a restaurant:
Waitress: Hello, where would you like to sit?
Me (not fully understanding what she said): I ordered dumplings. (Points at receipt)
Waitress (in a voice used for slow five year-olds): I KNOW you ordered dumplings, I asked you "where would you like to sit."
In a class for low-level kids
Me: Is Maggie here? (The boy who took the English name "Maggie" raises his hand)
Me: You know Maggie is a girl's name don't you?
(Class laughs at his expense)
Me: From now on, your English name is Markus. (And yes, I wrote it down on the attendance form spelled with a K, though this is subject to change.)
While I was lost downtown, looking for a park
Me (to an elderly security guard): Excuse me, where is the nearest park?
Guard: The nearest what?
Me: PARK.
Guard (looks at me with a benevolent grandfather stare): Ahhh yes, the park. I know that place well.
(Chuckles in that "oh, you rambunctious young people" sort of way)
Guard: Yes, yes, if you go north from here and take several turns, the nearest park should be in that vicinity.
It actually turned out that the park was the next street up and I was about to come across it anyway. This just shows you that old people are always looking for someone to talk to about anything.
A conversation which took place yesterday:
Me: So how do you think the US was able to win a gold medal in the Olympics this year but not in 2004?
Mick (28 year-old male): I think this is because the United States used many black players that were very good athletes. For instance, the black man is very powerful and can jump very high, but the yellow man is naturally not as fast.
Me: You know what, I think I agree with you.
During my first week here at a restaurant:
Waitress: Hello, where would you like to sit?
Me (not fully understanding what she said): I ordered dumplings. (Points at receipt)
Waitress (in a voice used for slow five year-olds): I KNOW you ordered dumplings, I asked you "where would you like to sit."
In a class for low-level kids
Me: Is Maggie here? (The boy who took the English name "Maggie" raises his hand)
Me: You know Maggie is a girl's name don't you?
(Class laughs at his expense)
Me: From now on, your English name is Markus. (And yes, I wrote it down on the attendance form spelled with a K, though this is subject to change.)
While I was lost downtown, looking for a park
Me (to an elderly security guard): Excuse me, where is the nearest park?
Guard: The nearest what?
Me: PARK.
Guard (looks at me with a benevolent grandfather stare): Ahhh yes, the park. I know that place well.
(Chuckles in that "oh, you rambunctious young people" sort of way)
Guard: Yes, yes, if you go north from here and take several turns, the nearest park should be in that vicinity.
It actually turned out that the park was the next street up and I was about to come across it anyway. This just shows you that old people are always looking for someone to talk to about anything.
Friday, October 10, 2008
My Favorite China Moments Thus Far
As someone who has lived in China for five months altogether, after a while you start picking up on certain trends or cultural facets that can only be described as "China Moments". What is meant by this is a certain instance of behavior that is so outlandish and weird that it could only happen in the relatively unregulated developing world. Before I go on, let me mention that these observations are not meant to castigate China or imply that the Chinese are inferior to Westerners/Americans in general; they are merely to point out that certain cultures have not gotten the memo on certain things.
This first post contains the stories:
"Caution: Floor Slippery When Pee-Soaked"
The largest foreign supermarket in China is the French-owned Carrefour, in both number of stores and the size of each particular location. This is the place where the middle/upper-middle class in China goes to do their shopping in a pseudo-Western style atmosphere that involves chicken feet in the meat market. While walking into the store on a Wednesday afternoon, I stopped suddenly at the front entrance of the store and was apparently the only person appalled at what was going on: not two feet to my left was a child of about four, with his pants down, peeing right on the welcome mat (and probably getting urine on my New Balances. Not cool, you little shit.)
"Well this is likely because the kid is unattended with no authority figure present", I thought to myself. Nope. Right behind him was a person who appeared to be his older brother, calmly directing the toddler as to what imaginary fire should be put out next. Bear in mind, little kids peeing whereever the hell they so choose is common practice in China. Barbaric, right? Maybe, until you realize where they're coming from. In China, most people have never had the disposable income for a convenience such as Pampers. As a result, kids clothes come with a flap on it so that they can make number 1 or 2 when nature calls (though hopefully down a sewer grate or in a bush as opposed to plain sight.) Would it be nice if they had a waste collection pouch stapled to their leg? Yeah. But I doubt bratty American kids would do any better without diapers.
"Balls to the Bench"
One of my initial concerns upon arriving in Wuxi, China was the presence of a gym in the vicinity. As it turns out, there is a fitness club that looks suspiciously like a California villa called "Better" not a ten minute drive away from where I live where Chinese and expats alike go to flex in front of mirrors and run in place. This place has it all, cute staff (female, you homophobe), helpful trainers (male, you misogynist) and ping-pong tables on the top floor. One thing I was not prepared for was how some Chinese men conduct themselves in a state of undress. Today, I saw a heavyset man calmly walking back down to the lockerroom in nothing but his underwear/compression shorts. That means he took off almost all his clothes and walked around in plain sight where all the cardio machines are. You are fat and middle-aged buddy, put a tent on the circus.
My favorite part however was when I actually made my way into the locker room: there is a bench right next to a fan when you walk in where everyone likes to cool off after working out. Seated on the bench was yet another fat, middle-aged man with his nether regions firmly plastered on the wooden bench, a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of Gatorade in the other. He looked at me wearing my Under Armour and iPod strapped to my arm. I looked at him wearing his birthday suit and wang strapped to the bench. After a five second-long curious cultural exchange stare, I went to my locker and decided to come back next week with Chinese rice liquor (baijiu) to sanitize the place where he sat.
"The Food"
China's cuisine is a fascinating case study in that for every dish they have which you could eat every day, there is a corresponding one that looks and tastes like Satan's anus. Ironically, the best food in China comes from the various ethnic minorities or the Taiawanese proving that historical repression = good food no matter where you are (read: African-Americans). To call "typical" Chinese food eclectic would be an insult to the Chinese; since I arrived in September I've already had toad, jellyfish and chicken feet. If you're wondering why so many foreigners stick to Kung Pao chicken, this is probably why. The best food I've had here has been from a hole in the wall restaurant run by a Uighur family (the Uighurs are a Muslim ethnic minority in Xinjiang Province) and their food is fucking delicious. Like the Greeks, the Uighurs realized early on that lamb, when prepared right is naturally tastier than any other kind of meat and like the Greeks, they staved off a million Persians at Thermopylae in 540 B.C.E. Only kidding. Uighur food is prepared simply but consistently with seasonings and marinades that are so good they could probably cook poop with them and the only thing I'd say is "well...I guess I'll wait until next week to eat it again." Moreover, the people at the restaurant have grown to appreciate the fact that I pay them enough to put their children through school. Hopefully this will be enough to prevent them from spitting in my food when they're having a bad day a la "Waiting".
This first post contains the stories:
"Caution: Floor Slippery When Pee-Soaked"
The largest foreign supermarket in China is the French-owned Carrefour, in both number of stores and the size of each particular location. This is the place where the middle/upper-middle class in China goes to do their shopping in a pseudo-Western style atmosphere that involves chicken feet in the meat market. While walking into the store on a Wednesday afternoon, I stopped suddenly at the front entrance of the store and was apparently the only person appalled at what was going on: not two feet to my left was a child of about four, with his pants down, peeing right on the welcome mat (and probably getting urine on my New Balances. Not cool, you little shit.)
"Well this is likely because the kid is unattended with no authority figure present", I thought to myself. Nope. Right behind him was a person who appeared to be his older brother, calmly directing the toddler as to what imaginary fire should be put out next. Bear in mind, little kids peeing whereever the hell they so choose is common practice in China. Barbaric, right? Maybe, until you realize where they're coming from. In China, most people have never had the disposable income for a convenience such as Pampers. As a result, kids clothes come with a flap on it so that they can make number 1 or 2 when nature calls (though hopefully down a sewer grate or in a bush as opposed to plain sight.) Would it be nice if they had a waste collection pouch stapled to their leg? Yeah. But I doubt bratty American kids would do any better without diapers.
"Balls to the Bench"
One of my initial concerns upon arriving in Wuxi, China was the presence of a gym in the vicinity. As it turns out, there is a fitness club that looks suspiciously like a California villa called "Better" not a ten minute drive away from where I live where Chinese and expats alike go to flex in front of mirrors and run in place. This place has it all, cute staff (female, you homophobe), helpful trainers (male, you misogynist) and ping-pong tables on the top floor. One thing I was not prepared for was how some Chinese men conduct themselves in a state of undress. Today, I saw a heavyset man calmly walking back down to the lockerroom in nothing but his underwear/compression shorts. That means he took off almost all his clothes and walked around in plain sight where all the cardio machines are. You are fat and middle-aged buddy, put a tent on the circus.
My favorite part however was when I actually made my way into the locker room: there is a bench right next to a fan when you walk in where everyone likes to cool off after working out. Seated on the bench was yet another fat, middle-aged man with his nether regions firmly plastered on the wooden bench, a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of Gatorade in the other. He looked at me wearing my Under Armour and iPod strapped to my arm. I looked at him wearing his birthday suit and wang strapped to the bench. After a five second-long curious cultural exchange stare, I went to my locker and decided to come back next week with Chinese rice liquor (baijiu) to sanitize the place where he sat.
"The Food"
China's cuisine is a fascinating case study in that for every dish they have which you could eat every day, there is a corresponding one that looks and tastes like Satan's anus. Ironically, the best food in China comes from the various ethnic minorities or the Taiawanese proving that historical repression = good food no matter where you are (read: African-Americans). To call "typical" Chinese food eclectic would be an insult to the Chinese; since I arrived in September I've already had toad, jellyfish and chicken feet. If you're wondering why so many foreigners stick to Kung Pao chicken, this is probably why. The best food I've had here has been from a hole in the wall restaurant run by a Uighur family (the Uighurs are a Muslim ethnic minority in Xinjiang Province) and their food is fucking delicious. Like the Greeks, the Uighurs realized early on that lamb, when prepared right is naturally tastier than any other kind of meat and like the Greeks, they staved off a million Persians at Thermopylae in 540 B.C.E. Only kidding. Uighur food is prepared simply but consistently with seasonings and marinades that are so good they could probably cook poop with them and the only thing I'd say is "well...I guess I'll wait until next week to eat it again." Moreover, the people at the restaurant have grown to appreciate the fact that I pay them enough to put their children through school. Hopefully this will be enough to prevent them from spitting in my food when they're having a bad day a la "Waiting".
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