It's All Relative
I keep apologizing for delays in posting, but I can’t seem to seem to stay regular. Even though there may never be a market for laxatives in China, that was not meant to be a pun. It’s just that the pace is now up to learning thirty or more new words daily. It can put a little crimp in your schedule. So to keep people from giving up on me entirely, I thought I should at least throw out a few random nuggets.
Many of the most amusing oddities come from the government. Some are belly-busters, some worth a chuckle and some rate only a raised eyebrow. All, however, are things that you would never expect to see in a totally free society. Here there is no one to freely call out the government. We have no Leno, Letterman or Dailey, or perhaps it’s simply that they don’t last very long before “retiring.”
Because the media is largely controlled by the select few, it can be used to provide a continuous, unified message (propaganda). China has made a major effort to become the primary mover in Africa, hoping to be the first in line to write new loans after Bono got the rest of the world to write off the old ones. This led to the wonderfully unique, four part documentary (pre-advertised for one month) on the glorious wonders of modern Namibia. I had almost decided to move to this incredible, new Eden when I realized that maybe I would be better served by simply getting rid of my television. I kept it mainly for watching movies (another topic for discussion), which led to my further exposure to the official line of thought.
We were glad to learn that the government is partnering with the United States to mutually protect the seas of the world when it was announced that joint search and rescue exercises were being held by a fleet from each nation. Each “fleet” contained one destroyer and one helicopter.
In yet another effort to make a good impression on Olympic visitors, the government has decided to promote queuing, or standing in line. This is something that is practically incomprehensible to the average Chinese person. It was decided that the best way to approach the problem was to declare the 11th of each month as “Queuing Day.”
The China Daily newspaper printed a short article on the high rate of deaths among policemen as a result of overwork, citing three examples. I didn’t quite catch the medical tie between overwork and the cancer two of them suffered from, but it certainly made you feel for our heroic public servants.
(I know that I've said "we" and "our" a few times. I'm not going that native yet. It just gives a better perspective. If you're not careful though, you can start believing some of these things after a while or, at least, stop questioning them so much.)
Spring can be a wonderful time: the end of winter doldrums and the emergence of both greenery and women’s legs. It can also be an awkward transition phase, as many women are torn between the seasons. They compromise by wearing their mismatched mini-skirt outfits with their heavy, woolen tights (long underwear). Sometimes I’m not sure if it’s a step forward or backward.
In almost nine months, I have never seen a proper garbage truck. For practically any known substance, there is an army of recyclers. Tens of thousands of bicycle carts roam the city, each dedicated to collecting one special type of waste. I’ve always felt that my garbage was free to whoever wanted it, but I was recently dragged into this culture. LD (Little Dictator) read me the riot act one night for throwing away a few beer bottles. I knew that they were being recycled so I didn’t really think much about it before then. I was very firmly informed that I would be saving them for their monetary value.
My landlord, like most Chinese people that I know, has a packaging fetish. I’m still finding packages for long-gone products all around the apartment. He had asked me to save the box from the washing machine and it still sits in my office/2nd bedroom. Needless to say, it’s quite a large box, apparently perfect for holding empty beer, soda and water bottles. It took over three months to fill the damn thing before LD called in a recycler (think bag lady with three large, empty, canvas sacks.)
LD was cleaning and I was studying at my desk when the recycler arrived. As I sweated over trying to write Chinese characters that looked like a Rorschach ink blot, three feet away they sorted and counted hundreds of bottles, the entire time arguing over both the count and the price I would receive. If there were an Olympic event for haggling, LD would not be able to stand because of the weight of her gold medals. I had to postpone studying and walk away before I did something drastic. I just couldn’t take it.
When all was said and done, on my dining room table I found thirteen kuai (US$1.70.) I made up my mind to end my recycling efforts, but found that I didn’t need to say anything. Even LD decided that it just wasn’t worth it. I found her throwing out beer bottles the next week.
I’m at a point where I feel completely lost as far as learning Mandarin. The grammar can be fairly compared to rocket science and I can’t understand anything that’s said in our listening classes. So it was even more confusing when several classmates individually asked me how I manage to speak so well. Today my teacher assigned me a practice partner, saying that I would help her speak better. Apparently I have no idea of what to say or how to say it, but I say it well. Maybe I can get a job as a newscaster.
I’ve mentioned the quirky quality of Chinese marketing. Last week I saw perhaps the greatest example of both a targeted message and truth in advertising that I have ever seen. I’ve mentioned that the strongest Chinese liquor, baijiu, can make moonshine look tame. Even though it’s not as strong, it has some property that simply makes everything disappear.
I had sworn off of it when I saw a bottle I could not resist buying as a souvenir. It was approximately six ounces of toxic liquor in a green bottle shaped like a hand grenade, complete with a plastic cap that had a lever on the side. I admired my purchase for close to two hours before breaking down and opening it. The next morning (it might have been afternoon – it was a little foggy) I renewed my vows of baijiu abstinence. The only problem is that, even though I don’t trust myself, I really want a full one for a souvenir. That’s good marketing.
Let’s jump back to the queuing problem for a moment. It’s not just queuing. The vast majority of Chinese people seem to have lost the capacity for politeness to strangers. I’ve met a very few people who have held a door for someone, but this has always been in my apartment building, where there is a slight sense of neighborliness. I have yet to see someone hold the elevator or help someone trying to deal with packages, children, etc. In fact, the average person can not wait the few seconds it takes for the elevator door to close, pressing the “close door” button before they even press the button for their floor, regardless of whether someone is ten feet behind them.
I’d like to think that perhaps I’m making a small impression in the name of civility, but sometimes it’s hard to be sure. I hold doors for people; hold the elevator, help people pick up items they’ve dropped, etc. These acts usually earn me a strange look, as if I have an ulterior motive, perhaps robbery. Our front gate is being rebuilt and, in order to get to the building, you must step down two feet from a low wall. I’ve helped several elderly people and women in heels who stood there looking hopeless. They have been unanimously surprised, yet grateful. I still can’t tell if I’ve helped the image of the laowai or merely reinforced the ingrained belief that we are simply strange creatures.
