Customs of the Country

Having spent all of four weeks in Inner Mongolia, it would be silly to claim that I knew the first thing about Chinese culture. I don't. But I’m an academic, and a small matter like lack of knowledge can’t stop me from pontification (see previous blogs). There are, in fact, some easily recognizable “customs” (I use that term in its most superficial sense) that a foreigner notices within days, if not hours, of arriving in a place like Hohhot.

CUTTING IN LINE AND TRAFFIC

Above: The Air China information booth in Beijing, where I stood “in line” for over thirty minutes as people cut in front of me, hollering and shoving their tickets at the overburdened Air China staff. I finally just gave up.

In China, everyone cuts in line. I found this out first at the Beijing airport while trying to talk to "information" after my flight was cancelled. I stood “in line” for over thirty minutes as people muscled their way in front of me (and others). This happens to me daily at the grocery stores and markets. I stand a respectful (American) distance from the register waiting for the customer ahead of me to finish as numerous old women walk right in front of me and put their goods on the counter and pay for them. It’s hard for me to stand close enough to the customer who is paying to maintain my position at the register, because it just feels rude. But cutting is also understandable. It may sound cliché, but in China, you'll never get anywhere if you wait for others. There are so many people that waiting is simply folly.

The same is true of traffic here in Hohhot. People do not wait. They rush directly out into traffic without looking at all (old women on foot or bikes are the worst). Why? If they looked, they would see a stream of oncoming traffic and if they waited they would wait forever. The alternative is simply to forge out directly into traffic and let everyone else accommodate, which they do. What I find most brilliant is the left-hand turn into onrushing traffic. In America, a car that wants to turn left has to wait until the way is clear, but in Hohhot a car simply turns left, forcing traffic in the opposite direction to swerve around them into the middle of the road, in turn forcing oncoming traffic to accommodate by moving further to the other side of the road. This is brilliant, because no one has to wait to make a left, and traffic continues to move. People in Hohhot are remarkable in their ability to swerve and maneuver through traffic that, to American eyes, appears to be little more than chaos. But somehow it works, and with very few accidents.

STARING AT FOREIGNERS

Taking pictures of waigoren (foreigners) at Qincheng Park. Everywhere we go we attract attention. This time I took a picture back!

It is amazing to think that in this age of internet and satellite television that there are still places in the world where foreigners draw crowds and stares from everyone. Hohhot, a city of nearly 1.5 million people, is one of those places. Foreigners are very unique and therefore they become the object of popular attention on the streets. Total strangers assemble to gawk at the strange waigoren and old women come directly up to our children to feel their hair and touch their faces. This particular practice is hard for us to take--especially hard on the children and Arienne. We cannot go anywhere without drawing a crowd. We cannot relax on a park bench without having to deal with strangers who want to stroke Grace's hair or pinch Samuel's cheeks. Mostly, they are very, very nice, but it does make going out in public very exhausting. In America we are used to our sense of space.

These guys literally rammed our boat so they could get a closer look.

A couple weeks ago at Qincheng Park, I took the kids out on some paddle boats. We spent the entire time surrounded by other boats that were chasing us, sweeping in for close-up photo opportunities of the foreigners. Suffice it say, it wasn't very relaxing. Sometimes the boats literally bumped into us (see above), allowing everyone the chance to stare and take photos. This despite the fact that the lake is pretty large, and there were only, say, ten boats on the water--plenty of room for everyone. This kind of thing happens to us every single day. We get to experience, for once, what it feels like to be a minority within a dominant culture. And yet, in a place like China, where 95% of the people are Han Chinese, and the other nationalities share a very similar appearance, foreigners really stand out.

In "River Town," Peter Hessler talks about experiencing the same thing while teaching English in a small town on the Yangtze River in the mid 1990s. He responded with his own kind of theatrics, calling himself a "long-nosed foreigner" or a "capitalist roader": "This long-nosed foreigner wants a cup of tea!" This was his way of dealing with constantly being the object of attention and curiosity. When I'm grouchy, I feel the same way. I want to do a dance or sing a song and really give the onlookers a good show--not just some tame view of foreigners trying to enjoy a quiet moment at the park. How about a foreigner dancing and singing a song from "Grease"?

Tyler, an American teacher who has been here continuously for nearly two years and who speaks Chinese and has married a Mongolian woman, often stares back at people who stare at him. When people say, "Foreigner!" (which happened to me last week at a street-side baizi vendor), he says back, in Chinese, "Chinese Person!" But taking this approach puts you in constant confrontation with people. It is much easier for me to simply ignore people, or smile and play the role of the stupid long-nosed foreigner, giving everyone a laugh at my own expense. This is what I did at the Wei Duo Li mall last week. I was standing in the meat section staring at all the unfamiliar cuts of meat. I was thumbing through my "Mandarin Phrase Book" trying to locate the word for "ground beef" or "hamburger," neither of which I could find. There was a gathering crowd of shoppers watching as the butchers all congregated around me. I stuck with the phrase book, and by the time I gave up on it, there were easily a dozen people watching and laughing, enjoying the spectacle of a waigoren trying to find the words to buy his meat. I finally pointed at the meat I wanted and then performed an amusing charade to indicate that I wanted it ground. I got the meat and everyone was entertained along the way. No one was mean or rude, just interested and amused.

But these are all small things. In the big picture, our experience has been shaped more by the kinds of customs for which the Chinese are well-known: generosity, hospitality, friendliness, and modesty. Everywhere we go, people may stare at us, but they also help us. If we look lost, someone will help us, even if they do not speak English (which is usually the case here in Hohhot). In our short stay here, people have extended to us tremendous hospitality--they have fed us, guided us around the city and countryside, helped us get what we need. Despite our protests, they have paid our cab fares, bought us water and ice cream bars, and paid our entrance to tourist sites. And when we thank them, they say, "It was nothing at all." When we pay them compliments, they respond in the typical Chinese fashion, "No, No," as opposed to the typical American response, which is simply to say, "Thank you." We have learned to leave some liquid in our cups if we are done, or they will be refilled immediately. We have learned not to eat all the food on a plate, or it will be taken as a sign that not enough food was served. We have learned not to protest too much when someone wants to pay for us, because it is an insult.

The people at the university, moreover, have absolutely bent over backwards to make our stay here comfortable. Faculty members have taken us to stores, museums, parks, and pharmacies. The facilities people have brought us a five-gallon water dispenser, a new phone, pots and pans, and a new washing machine to come. Hospitality, so far, has been the primary Chinese custom that we’ve experienced thus far (except from the Police in Helin, but that blog is coming soon!)

Thanks for reading.

Dave

PS—yes the teaching blogs will be coming, but I’m trying to catch up!