Song-ing, Plus Sobbing At The Chongqing Bus Station

V.and I left Chongqing at the same time, and we left together by long distance bus so we wouldn’t have to haul all of our luggage onto/off of the train, through the train station, etc. If you go by bus, they just throw it on underneath the bus, much easier!

So we had a plan to meet at 9 AM at the very chaotic and crowded bus station. In Chinese culture, you never let someone leave alone. They even have a verb for it, ‘song’, which can mean roughly ‘seeing someone off.’ To song someone means to walk them outside (not just to the door), make sure they get into a taxi/car/bus whatever okay, and maybe even pay for it. (I have gotten into more than one good-natured fight with Chinese friends over who is paying for my taxi home!) If someone’s leaving town, you take them to the station and wait until they leave. I love this tradition, it’s very sweet, and it’s taken very seriously.

V.’s student was songing him to the bus station, and my Chinese friend Cassie was songing me. V. and his student arrived first so they got our tickets, and Cassie songed me into the bus station. But she had something she had to do and couldn’t wait until I left, so I songed her back to the parking lot. Now, I have explained before that in Chinese culture people don’t cry in public, it’s a loss of face. But Cassie started crying, and the fact she was crying made ME cry, and after we said goodbye, I started sobbing walking back into the bus station. I pushed my way through all the people until I got back to V. and his student, who kept on talking while I sat down and bawled my eyes out for about five minutes. I was sooooo losing face, everyone was staring at me, and I didn’t care in the least!

V. and his student did their best to ignore me because in that situation, that was the polite thing to do. When I was finished crying, V’s student said, “You made some good friends here.” It was simple and sweet and exactly the right thing to say. Yes, I did make good friends there. 

His student helped us load our luggage, made sure we got to our seats, and waved goodbye from the curb as the bus pulled out of the station. It was a very sweet goodbye to Chongqing.

Living In A Mafia-Run City

Last year Chongqing got a new mayor, and he initiated a huge mafia crackdown in Chongqing. It was the talk of the city, and Chinese news, for my last 6 months or so. People were arrested, some executed, and the entire police force had to change their station assignments to try to break up the rings.

It didn’t affect me too much directly, but it was something people talked about in casual conversation, which I found to be rather remarkable. In my experience, Chinese friends didn’t talk to me about the government (and I never brought it up, either). But they filled me in on the daily developments of who was being arrested, the amount of money being exchanged in the mafia rings, and how it was changing the city police assignments etc.

One thing that did affect me was the end of the late-night mafia buses. Of course, prior to the arrests, I didn’t know they were mafia buses. All I knew was they were the only buses that ran all-night routes I regularly needed, saving me some expensive taxi fares. I had been warned that the buses were unsafe and the drivers were crazy, even by Chongqing standards. (In fact, a few months before I arrived in Chongqing, one of these buses had driven off an overpass on a route I used all the time.) It turns out the bus drivers weren’t actually licensed bus drivers, nor were the buses examined for safety in a regular basis. The buses shut down, but I didn’t know why until the mafia arrests hit the news. A few places we used to hang out at were also shutdown temporarily.

I had often described to friends in person that living in Chinese culture is, for an American, a little like what we imagine living in the mafia is like; where American culture traditionally observes the rule of law, Chinese culture places relationships above the law. Perhaps the only part of American culture that observes relationships above the law is what we would call organized crime. In Chinese culture it is okay to put the relationship before the law. I have often said that if you know the right people in China, it is the easiest place to live because you can get anything done that you need or want. That’s just how Chinese culture operates. It’s not criminal, it’s just how things are.

But in Chongqing, apparently things went a little further than that, hence the crackdown. It certainly did make my last few months a little more interesting. If you want to more about it, there are a few articles here, here and here.

Racial Profiling, Bad Manners, and Baffling Technology: A Day In The Life of a Returned American

1. Over the weekend I had to wait for something and there were very few places to sit, but two seats were open: one next to a Caucasian guy, and one next to an Asian guy. And it was really crowded, so I sat next to the Asian guy, because I thought he might be better with me being really close to him. This is awful, but true. Also, he didn't flinch at all when I sat right next to him.

Related: the first time someone here apologized after bumping into me, I almost laughed out loud. I hadn't even noticed they did it.

2. I had dinner with a friend of a friend at a Chinese restaurant, and we decided to order family style. This is how pretty much all my Chinese meals in China were eaten so I am very comfortable with this. But I guess to him, family style meant "sharing" not "eating out of the same plates of food." So I inadvertently grossed him out by sticking my own chopsticks in the plate of Kung Pao Chicken. I guess I'm not ready to be taken out in public yet.

Related: he said, "You can use chopsticks really well." I thought I had left this observation behind in China. I guess not. And yes, I do use chopsticks really well! I lived in China for two years! If I couldn't use chopsticks really well by now, I'd be an idiot! (I have wanted to say this soooo many times. Thank you.)

3. Most of my part of China still functions on a cash-only basis, and the electronic payment system, when there is one, is very uniform. Have you noticed that almost all gas stations, stores and gas pumps use a different setup for debit card payments? I have. It takes me a minute to figure out what I'm doing. And today I didn't have to enter a pin number, but I didn't realize that and just stood there waiting to be prompted until the guy said, "That's all. You can leave now." He said it in a nice way, but I still felt a little silly. It's a lot to remember!

Related: advice my friend J. told me when I explained I was having a hard time with reverse culture shock: "When you feel frustrated, just think about how nice the bathrooms there are." She's right: public bathrooms here are amazing. I could eat in there!

Good news: I enrolled in a Mandarin course at the local University and it's been nice to have a reason to speak Chinese again. It's very uplifting to have something to do while I endlessly job search.

Unexpected Anger at Bed, Bath and Beyond

So, wiser heads than me tell me I am experiencing reverse culture shock. And that it will fade in time. And this is supposed to be comforting, and it is, but it is also scary to me. Because there are some things I don't WANT to fade. Here is one example:

I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond over the weekend and I was just unexpectedly furious at all of the crap for sale that no one really needs for any reason other than laziness. You know the front of the store, where they put all the little gadgets and gizmos things on special? I was just disgusted seeing all of that, and sad, because I've seen firsthand the hard lives and smiles and children of the people who make those things. And I want more for them than to spend their lives in a factory churning out crap no one really needs. Some of my students work in the factories in South China in the summer, and I know some of them will end up there permanently. And they have so much potential! What would they be doing instead if this weren't the option presented to them? I am not against comfort and convenience in theory; I just wish we really thought more about the price in human potential we pay for them. Maybe we could do with a little inconvenience do give someone else the chance to live a life outside a factory, to invest time and energy in something else.

I don't want to become a person who forgets those people in the factories, and the price we pay for convenience.

Stress, Insecurity and Awkwardness: This Too Shall Pass?

It is harder to adjust to coming home than I imagined. A few things:

1. Reacclimating to American culture is stressful, because I don't always know how to act. And the cultural diversity I love so much (and missed so much) is unexpectedly stressful to deal with. R. and I have had some conversations about this and luckily I'm not just weird, it's hard for her too. It's comforting to know it's common, but still: it sucks. I'll write about some specific things when I have a chance.

2. I still dream every night I'm in China. My brain hasn't caught up with the fact I'm not going back to China. When this finally sinks in, I expect to have a little meltdown about it.

3. I'm on the road right now visiting friends out of state. I really needed this. Pardon my silence.

4. Some American friends I made in China have been very easy and natural to keep in touch with. Others have not. And without saying too much publicly, these categories are not populated exactly as I expected. I find it awkward and unsure to communicate right now with someone who was a really, really close friend in China. I didn't expect this, and it hurts.

5. I find it difficult right now to write about my experiences. Memories flood my brain constantly, but putting them down in writing eludes me right now. I need to give myself time and space to process what is happening, I suppose. So I'm trying to let myself do that.

6. One really good thing: I had a family reunion last week and it was wonderful to reunite with beloved cousins. It was also really nice to be with people who knew my dad. I love hearing my cousins (who are nearer to my dad's age than mine) talk about him. They knew him in a way I never will. And when I talk about him, they know exactly what I mean. It was comforting.

Culture Clash In Seat 46C

The last time I flew to America from China I took Air China, which has a Chinese flight crew. This time I took United, which meant we had an American flight crew.

The young Chinese guy in the row ahead of me brought a lot of carry-on luggage, and I watched through culturally enlightened eyes the way the flight attendant tried to deal with him. She was being so American! And he was being so Chinese! She kept telling him that it wasn't fair for him to have three bags, because it meant that someone else wouldn't have space for their luggage. And he kept answering in a very Chinese way: "But my bags are already here, and they fit." And she kept right on with her very American line of reasoning that the fair thing to do is to check some of his bags. And he wouldn't give an inch, because he didn't see why he should. In China, if you're first, you win. And that's that. And I'm watching this go on for 5 or so minutes and I want to tell this woman, "You're in charge! Just tell him you're checking some of his bags. You're the boss. He won't challenge you." And sure enough, after about 10 minutes of this back and forth culture clash, she finally told him, "I'm checking this bag." And he didn't protest at all.

An appeal to fairness rarely works in China. Hierarchy and rank, these are the things people respect. There is no such thing as 'fair.' It means you have to shove your way onto a bus, but there is a certain freedom in things not being fair (when it's in your favor, that is. So learn to throw those elbows!). Being a teacher in China is just about the easiest teaching job in the world as far as discipline goes because your students pretty much fall in line with just a mean look. You're the teacher, you have the power. Early on I confiscated students' ringing cell phones and took them home with me for a few days. This got the message across, and I rarely had cell phone problems after that. In fact, there was a Chinese teacher who threw a student's cell phone out a fifth story window! I never had the guts to do that, but if I had, it would have been totally okay.

I wonder if next time, the flight attendant will just take the bag.

Currently reading: The Gita, translated by Irina Gajjar
Currently watching: Seinfeld reruns
Currently cooking: artichokes
Currently shopping online for: work clothes and a cool, not-too-formal briefcase-type bag

I need to rename this blog, but I'm not sure yet what it'll be. Stay tuned, so exciting!

Home Is Where The Paper Plates Are

I made my way back to the USA this past weekend; I didn’t go straight to America after leaving Chongqing, but had a great final week with friends. I cried A LOT. Some people got the brunt of this, and because they are of the man variety, I feel a little bad. But the tears were in part because I would miss them so much, so hopefully they at least felt flattered I cared so much. 

Reverse culture shock? Yes, absolutely a real thing. Not just for me, but for my family having to deal with me. I’m sure at times they are thinking,”Who ARE you now?” It’s the little things here driving me crazy: personal distance, driving with RULES, small talk, concepts of time, American germaphobia, and the utter lack of people everywhere I go. I feel like I’ve survived a plague. Don’t get me wrong, it’s wonderful to have so much calmness around me, but it’s also really weird. I feel really socially awkward right now. I’m pretty sure I’ve been rude to a few people because I got all Chinese on them in the store. But hey, when it’s your turn next in line at the cashier, go! 

(Things I love about America: access to any internet site I want, clean food I don’t have to scrub before eating (although I keep forgetting and scrub it anyway), and unlimited corn tortillas and salsa in my belly. Yum.)

I’m staying with my mom temporarily. This morning I used a waxed paper plate for my breakfast and it was only a little dirty, so I told her not to throw it out and I’d use it again later in the day. A few minutes later she came over to where I was sitting: “You’re not in China anymore, you can have a new paper plate whenever you want it.” Me: “But I don’t need a new one, it’s still useable!”

To my mom’s credit, she didn’t throw it away. But I know she doesn’t understand why I’m hanging onto a paper plate.

I’m about 72 hours stateside; jet lag is a pain! Thank goodness for bad TV at 3 AM.