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Lost in Translation: The Baffling Experiences of One American in ChinaBY: Catherine Northington | Category: China | Submitted: 2010-07-07 16:34:14
There was a time when I considered myself a somewhat seasoned traveler. I learned to vigilantly defend my Euros from roaming gitanos on a trek to Córdoba, learned an important lesson about overly-friendly Italian men on a stint in Bologna, and learned in Isigny St. Mere that some cheeses do, in fact, taste just as bad as they smell (or worse). My pacifying-yet-deceptive delusions of worldliness were torn from beneath my feet as I stepped out of Pudong International Airport in Shanghai, China this past May. Although the hectic scene outside Customs echoed the commotion found in every airport from Philly to Fiji, soon after beginning my forays into Chinese culture was I made well aware of the culture shock I would be experiencing over the next three weeks. After settling into the comfortable expatriate development in the Pudong section of Shanghai that would serve as our home base for the first week of our stay, our hosts (my American uncle, aunt, and cousins who have resided in China for the past 2 years) escorted my family to Shanghai's Bund region for a view of the skyline pasted stunningly up against a dusky Eastern sky. I was torn from this visual paradise by a jarring retching noise emitted by the man behind me. I was to become well-acquainted with this sound over the next couple of weeks. Chinese citizens on the streets of Shanghai, Beijing, and Xi'an awakened me to an entirely unfamiliar array of bodily functions. Well above the din of urban chatter that is to be expected of such metropolises as Shanghai and Beijing were unending glottal symphonies of strident, phlegm-y expulsions originating deep within the nasal passages of nearby individuals. Another shocking revelation upon entering China was the attention my Caucasian, fair-haired family received. Never before have I been made so embarrassingly aware of the fact that I have blonde hair. Men, women, and children on the streets of every Chinese locality observed us with a disturbing degree of fascination. Innumerable passersby took discrete pictures of us; others, less than discrete. Some were more candid about their fascination, pointing at their cameras and waving frenetically with smiles and nods. Initially I supposed that the curious gawkers wanted me to snap a picture of them with their loved ones. As I responded to them in the affirmative, the asker quickly leapt into a picture...with me. Something as pedestrian and inconsequential as being Caucasian and having blonde became special, even novel. At the outset, my vanity got the better of me. I thrived on the temporary high, basking in the instant adoration of all my "fans." This thrill was rapidly overshadowed by embarrassment. It felt like a spotlight was following me through every corner and alley in China, and I found myself begging for the sweet relief of the anonymity that I so often complained about back at home. Another chaotic venture in China was the shopping. Okay, I love shopping as much as the next stereotypical 20 year-old girl. But like many, I dread the stress of a salesman or woman breathing down my neck. In China, multiply that stress by a thousand. I spent most of my time at markets swatting off determined salesmen, doing my damndest to ignore the cacophony of "Hey lady!"s and "Best price for you!"s. And when I finally did pick up a pair of chopsticks I'd been eyeing in Beijing, the sales woman violently barreled over several innocent passersby in order to reach me and make the sale. These shocks were just minor speed bumps. By far the most difficult hardship for the uninformed (nay, ignorant) American traveler like myself was the restroom situation. I can speak particularly for women when I say that in order for a successful bathroom expedition, you must be prepared for the following: a) squatting to the point of numbness, b) tragic deficits of toilet paper, c) odors that inspire your eyes to water and your nasal passages to beg the question "Why?." If you distrust your sense of aim, then hold it. If you need to do anything besides urinate in one of those stalls, then Buddha have mercy on your soul. Of course, one doesn't subject themselves to the grueling 15-hour flight to China, only to experience the thrills of foreign plumbing (or the lack thereof). For me, this excursion into a foreign continent meant one thing: Experimentation. And what better place to do it than in the night markets of Beijing? As dusk settles in this vivacious city and the lights flick off in the skyscrapers which dot the horizon, a rush of activity exhilarates the streets below. Vendors' stands pop up, seemingly from nowhere, and echelons of lanterns illuminate the streets, strung along like so many warriors poised on the front lines of battle. The types of exotic delicacies offered at the vendors' stands range from starfish to centipede to anenome. While my mother and sister dared to munch on some roasted water beetles, I instead tried my hand at a different kind of delicacy: Sheep penis (pictured: Me, ambitiously chomping into the juicy genitalia). It was hard to ignore the penis salesman's eager summons as I drifted past his stand. The idea of genitalia for dinner perhaps appealed more to my immaturity than my taste buds; regardless, it was an offer I couldn't refuse. The verdict? The taste itself wasn't too bad, as the penis was seasoned spicily with a unique blend of homegrown Chinese herbs. The consistency, however...well, I'll let you try it for yourself someday. If on your own trip you're not in the mood for the strange and unfamiliar, delve into the nation's more ancient allures. A highlight of the trip that provided slightly more sensory satisfaction than penis on a stick was our side adventure from Shanghai to a quaint water village called Jiu Jia Jiao. I must admit I was somewhat nonplussed at my mother's proposal that we visit something called a "water town." I've seen water before, Mom. But Jiu Jia Jiao was more than just water--it was straight out of an impressionist painting. The town appeared forgotten by time in its picturesque, unspoiled beauty. One could peruse the lively street markets bustling with native shoppers and vendors pitching one outlandish-smelling delight after another, or one could enjoy the organic beauty of the town on a leisurely boat ride through the canals, which were woven like tapestry through the criss-crossing alleyways in the center of town. This ancient Chinese village was steeped in rich historical and spiritual traditions, left markedly unblemished by the all-too-unavoidable tarnishes of globalization. Contrast a town like this to a scene as packed and ingratiatingly tourist-frenzied as the World Expo, which was also taking place in Shanghai while we were in town, and I found the water town a much more rewarding experience for any traveler seeking a taste of the "real" China (though we did find it hard to resist the adorable Expo mascot, Hai Bao, on our travels). Although the Expo, beset with tourists, was overwhelming for our own tastes, other tourist must-sees in China most certainly did not disappoint. Later in our trip we overlooked the awe-inspiring plenitudes of terrain, with views extending for miles even on the foggiest of days, from our perch atop the Great Wall in Mutianyu. We gained a profound understanding of Chinese spirituality in Beijing's Forbidden City and its endless networks of stone pathways and sparkling temple rooftops. In Xi'an we observed the army of terracotta warriors whose solemn faces reflected the countenances of men who fought to preserve The Qin Dynasty thousands of years ago. The trip had offered few dull moments. But by the final days of our foray into foreign lands, we began to crave the comforts of home. Chinese food was out of the picture for a digestive tract as sadly prepared as my own. Dinners went from dumplings and General Tsao's Chicken to more familiar homestyle meals: Tomato soup and macaroni, and once even a classic PB&J. Our host family, homesick for their own Western favorites, was more than happy to oblige. Article Source: http://articles.travelandtourisminfo.com/ About Author / Additional Info: I am a 20 year-old aspiring writer hailing from Philadelphia, PA. Comments on this article: (0 comments so far)
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