A Free Lunch
I finally got a ticket to Jiuzhaigou, the supposed paradise of China. The flight isn't leaving until the afternoon, so I had the morning to kill. I headed slightly out of town to check out another park, Wangliangjou. It was a typical Chengdu park -- people strolling about and tea gardens full of people relaxing and playing games. Rounding one corner, I came upon a group of about 150 kindergarden kids out on a school trip for the day. As I was noticed more and more, a rousing chorus of 'Hello!'s rang out and there was nowhere I could escape -- that's if I wanted to, of course, which I didn't. I spoke a bit with one of the teachers when, one after one, some of the kids came up to me and starting giving me some of their lunches! Candy, creme-filled pies, and an apple filled my arms -- it was such a warm display of kindness that I was almost overwhelmed. Reluctantly leaving the kids and friendly teacher whose "Welcome to Chengdu, welcome to China" stuck with me for the day, I headed out among the bamboo fields in the center of the park to practice some tai chi. It was a perfect time to reflect on my experiences so far.
Traveling in China as a non-Asian has been amazing, heartening, disappointing and downright maddening, all at the same time. Wherever I go, whether it be a park or restaurant or just crossing the street, I am stared at by anyone and everyone. Even after almost three weeks, I can't quite get used to it. I can't cross the block without a bus passing me and all heads in the windows looking at me; if I sit in a restaurant, all eyes will be on me and what I'm eating. They'll even talk about me as if I don't know it, even if I don't understand their words. A couple of times, I've all but lost it; sometimes I'll return their stares with daggered eyes of my own. I realize tourism in China, while increasing, is still somewhat of a new phenomenon in this once and long-isolated country and that, for many Chinese, I am one of, if not the only, Westerner they've ever seen. Because of that, I only allow myself to get so angry. But I've also realized how to break down the barrier, how to unravel the tension, the negative chi and to create a sense of happiness and harmony out of an uncomfortable situation, even when words understood are few:
Smile.
A smile is often all it takes to turn the confused and curious stare of a Chinese person into an face-wide grin, and then the happiness, the positive chi, flows between me and my new friend. Even if we only spend a few moments together, the simple act of turning supposed frustration into kindness reciprocates and friendship and laugher are shared, not between Chinese and Westerner, but between people. But it's not easy, and I'm stared at almost every minute or everyday, and I have to keep reminding myself of this lesson, both simple and difficult at the same time. I know there is no malicious intent behind the fixed eyes of the people among whom I travel, but as an American, I'm unused to the idea of being different. In America, there's almost no such thing. But I'm not in America, as I'm reminded everyday.
The young people can't get enough of me, whether it be a school trip or a disco. The older people always have a smile and a 'ni hao' at the tips of their tongues. It's the middle-aged population that can't quite seem to make heads or tails of my existence, my reasons for even being here, as they live through an age unlike China has seen before, as it seeks to join the rest of the world without losing the sense and identity of its past.
So as I walk among this strange yet beautiful land, amidst the curious yet warm people of this ever-opening country, I am both a rockstar and a freak. And I accept both, reluctantly and warmly. After all, there's nothing I can do about it.
And that's all for now. I have a plane to catch to paradise, and I'm quite hungry.
And there just happens to be a shiny, red apple in my backpack.
Traveling in China as a non-Asian has been amazing, heartening, disappointing and downright maddening, all at the same time. Wherever I go, whether it be a park or restaurant or just crossing the street, I am stared at by anyone and everyone. Even after almost three weeks, I can't quite get used to it. I can't cross the block without a bus passing me and all heads in the windows looking at me; if I sit in a restaurant, all eyes will be on me and what I'm eating. They'll even talk about me as if I don't know it, even if I don't understand their words. A couple of times, I've all but lost it; sometimes I'll return their stares with daggered eyes of my own. I realize tourism in China, while increasing, is still somewhat of a new phenomenon in this once and long-isolated country and that, for many Chinese, I am one of, if not the only, Westerner they've ever seen. Because of that, I only allow myself to get so angry. But I've also realized how to break down the barrier, how to unravel the tension, the negative chi and to create a sense of happiness and harmony out of an uncomfortable situation, even when words understood are few:
Smile.
A smile is often all it takes to turn the confused and curious stare of a Chinese person into an face-wide grin, and then the happiness, the positive chi, flows between me and my new friend. Even if we only spend a few moments together, the simple act of turning supposed frustration into kindness reciprocates and friendship and laugher are shared, not between Chinese and Westerner, but between people. But it's not easy, and I'm stared at almost every minute or everyday, and I have to keep reminding myself of this lesson, both simple and difficult at the same time. I know there is no malicious intent behind the fixed eyes of the people among whom I travel, but as an American, I'm unused to the idea of being different. In America, there's almost no such thing. But I'm not in America, as I'm reminded everyday.
The young people can't get enough of me, whether it be a school trip or a disco. The older people always have a smile and a 'ni hao' at the tips of their tongues. It's the middle-aged population that can't quite seem to make heads or tails of my existence, my reasons for even being here, as they live through an age unlike China has seen before, as it seeks to join the rest of the world without losing the sense and identity of its past.
So as I walk among this strange yet beautiful land, amidst the curious yet warm people of this ever-opening country, I am both a rockstar and a freak. And I accept both, reluctantly and warmly. After all, there's nothing I can do about it.
And that's all for now. I have a plane to catch to paradise, and I'm quite hungry.
And there just happens to be a shiny, red apple in my backpack.
posted by Unknown at 11:22 AM
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