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Oh my good lord, I've been here a month. Apologies for the long blog absence, everything has happened incredibly quickly and the job - whilst genuinely wonderful - is pretty gosh darn time- and labour-intensive!
I should start by saying that I am very firmly in my 'honeymoon' period with Chengdu at the moment. Whilst a part of me does yearn for the architecture and idiosyncracies of home (hearing 'Hi_Tech Zone' and 'North Railway Station' announced on the Metro doesn't have the same ring as 'Elephant and Castle' or 'Maida Vale' somehow), the more I see of Chengdu the more I want to understand and be able to interact. To this end, the Mandarin lessons are progressing apace. I can now jab at a menu and say what I want (badly, in the wrong tone) and sometimes even get an approximation of it delivered to the table. I can also understand when someone says they are adding 'foreigner tax' (laowai shuo). I just can't do anything about it. Yet. I am lucky enough to live right by a Monastery with some beautiful tea-houses which has been brilliant for times when I just want to do a Garbo, and all in all some very lovely things have happened: I've been to see the Giant Buddha at Leshan, got up close and personal with the Giant Pandas, bought a Giant bike to take out into the very lush and mountainous countryside, and continue to be stopped for photos every 20 paces by virtue of apparently being a giant. My personal favourites are as follows:
1) At the Giant Buddha. Y'know that huge cultural and religious landmark that people flock from all over the world to see? Apparently it's got nuttin' on a Laowai eating tofu on a stick.
2) In the phone shop buying top-up. By the sales assistant.
At the end of my first week, I found myself wondering why we are so consistently told how TOTALLY DIFFERENT everything China is. I'd come away expecting the be bowled over by a culture and way of life completely alien to my own, when in fact life in Chengdu is - on the surface at least - not so very different from life in any major city. There are branches of Starbucks, Carrefour, B&Q and IKEA within striking distance of my flat, a thriving financial sector, some great museums, and a Metro system to put most of western Europe to shame. As I've started work and made some Chinese and Laowai friends, however, it's become clear that almost everyone experiences Chengdu culture shock as a slow burn; one which makes itself felt most in the rules of interpersonal relations. For your entertainment, I thought I'd share this with y'all.
One of the steepest learning curves has been the impossibility in Chinese culture of saying 'no' to anyone. This includes situations in which one is incapable of helping (excuse me, I'm lost and in danger of missing my train - do you know where the railway station is?); those in which one believes the other person has made a mistake (are you sure the presentation is on 27th December? I thought it was this month); and those in which the other person has deviated from a previously-made arrangement and is now demanding a different course of action. To illustrate the practical application of this last point:
Landlord: Hello, can you pay the rent today?
Silly Laowai: Oh hi. Um, didn't we say 25th for the rent?
LL: Yes, yes, 25th. I think you can take the money from the ATM today?
SL: Um, well no actually, my money is pretty much all on my credit card so I couldn't give you it all today in any case. But it says here on the contract that the rent is due on the...
LL: Mmm, mmm yes. I think you can just go to the cashpoint now.
SL: But I can't take out the money.
LL: You don't have any money?
SL: Well yes, I have money, but it's on a credit card so there is a limit to how much cash I can take out every day.
LL: Ok ok. I will come to the cashpoint with you.
SL: That's kind, but I won't actually be able to take out any....
LL: I think you can just take the money today.
One and a half hours and three cashpoints later
LL: I think you can just take the money from this cashpoint now.
SL: I don't think that will work. You see, it's a credit card so the bank is not important - the credit card company will not allow me to take any more cash out before tomorrw.
LL: I think you can just take the money now.
Initially, this brought about a somewhat rose-tinted yearning for the categorical opposite of this process: namely the French 'pas possible'. As anyone who has spent any time in the Hexagon well knows, this is the standard response to any request made that might involve any unwanted effort whatsoever on behalf of the requestee. An almost identical situation in Caen went something like this:
Etrangere Stupide: Hi, can I pay my rent please.
Accommodation Officer: Pas possible.
ES: Oh sorry, it's just that it says here on the contract that the rent is due on 25th.
AO: We're closed. Pas possible.
ES: Really? It's twenty past two in the afternoon!
AO: Oui, what of it? We always close at 2.30 on the third Tuesday of the month, apart from when Sagittarius is in the ascendency in which case it is 11am. Just like on Mondays we only come in at noon if we feel like it and on Fridays we work only between the hours of 3 and 4.30. Didn't you read the student information pack? Pas possible!
ES: Oh right OK. But actually it's 2.20, and I really think I should...
AO: Pas possible.
ES: Right.
Thing is, as with all cultural discrepancies, you work out pretty sharpish (normally after 15 seperate trips to the accommodation office, lunar calendar in hand, stack of Euros in bumbag) that if you want to avoid being Silly Laowai/Etrangere Stupide/Bloody Foreigner for any length of time, you must adapt to survive. In France, this meant reclaiming the 'pas possible' for my own. After a few blunders, I worked out and began to play by the rules. Turns out, they're quite simple: you must first adopt an air of weary indifference which you may allow to rise to haughty entitlement during the course of the parry, but never to tip over into anything as un-chic as anger or indignation. You should then engage your opponent in at least 15 minutes' worth of linguistic stalemate, both expressing how 'pas possible' the other person's suggestion is and employing such staple phrases as 'bah nooon!'; 'bof' and 'c'est fou, quoi', until one or other of you cedes to the competitor with the most dismissive Gallic shrug. I got quite good at this game; in fact, by the time I left throwing down the gauntlet of the 'pas possible' and winning was one of my chief pleasures. All that remains is to employ the same spirit in the service of developing good interpersonal relations in China. To this end, I am resolved to reverse the 'pas possible' paradigm and emerge victorious from my next run-in with my venerable landlord. In addition, the next time a colleague's computer dies an anguished death, I shall join the flock of people gathering around the smoking wreck, say 'let me help you' and jab at some buttons, saying 'I think you can maybe just turn it on in five minutes.' Ought to do the trick right?
- comments
Katrina Fantastic! Looking forward to hearing about how you get on with the landlord after another month to learn the ropes.
Kat You're staying in China for like another 11 months or more? Pas possible! Get it!??!
sophie yah, I'm like Totes In Chinah..
Lucy Mac Babez! Like, totes blates? LITERALLAH in Cheng to the DU.
Gergana Love you. You're amazing, you should write for the papers!
G Ha! Soo much I want to say as well in response to this, but feel like I want to spend time on specificities...Big Hug, McCormick.
Felicia McCormick Brilliant! I read this out to Lu (and demonstrated the Gallic shrug) - she says "very funny, and she's right!" LoL, Felicia