The Only Quiet Place in China

I feel like I’ve just stepped into the twilight zone – I’m in a quiet room.  In earlier posts I talked about the oppressively high volume of everything in China.  The dorms are open and loud, and the restaurants and tea shops are really just for eating, not parking with books.  I knew my students study, but I couldn’t figure out where.

In America, libraries are full of books.  In China, libraries are full of students.  The first floor is filled with books.  The space on the second floor is split evenly between books and students, and the third floor doesn’t have any books at all – just one massive, open, silent room, full of students.  There are maybe 150-200 people in a room the size of a small basketball court or two mammoth choir rooms, and no one is talking.  Apparently ‘studying together’ in China means studying in the same place, not speaking with one another about class content.

This is the first time I’ve felt overwhelmed by my singular whiteness.  Maybe it’s because it’s so quiet.  Or maybe it’s because every face is down and I was surprised with a sea of black hair when I expected books.  As awkward and strange as this is – it’s also so CALM.  I love it!  My phone just went off – so awkward!  I feel the tension seeping out of my shoulders now that I’ve found a place where the loudest sound is a backpack zipper or muted cough.  This is fantastic…    

Duck in the coop

Right now I’m sitting in a hammock on the roof of my apartment building.  The air has gradually grown thick over the past four days, air, pollution, and humidity vying for the same space.  Now it’s raining, thick, heavy, lazy drops, pinging on the tin roof-top covering the area where we hang our clothes to dry.  Clothes, cloth, cloths – I’ve explained the difference between those words five times in the last two days to about 135 students.  My hammock isn’t the driest place, but as long as my computer is safe, I’m not going to miss out on the quietest outdoors experience I’ve had in weeks.  I love listening to the rain here – the air feels different, but the sound is familiar.

The last couple of weeks have been a little interesting.  I thought culture shock would be a sad feeling, or an intolerant perspective, or a nagging whininess because a person expects everything to be the same as home is.  It’s more like being the only duck in a coop full of chickens.  Everyone has feathers and wings just like you, but somehow you keep expecting to find a pond somewhere.  Culture shock isn’t the longing for the pond – it’s the expectation of finding one.

Sometimes the contrast of cultures is little; you sneeze, I say, “Bless you.”  WHY?  Old world superstition.  What an awkward thing to explain to a student.  Sometimes the contrast is blatant.  Babies don’t wear diapers, so their pants are split open until they’re two or three.  You learn to avoid all puddles.

The hardest thing for me is the noise – constant, blaring, haranguing noise.  The Chinese express everything with BIG sound.  Happiness, anger, grief, motivation = noise!  They also mark every notable event with firecrackers: relationships, births, deaths, building dedications, street performances, weddings, or maybe just because it’s Tuesday!  I’m learning to enjoy these outbursts of sound at remarkable decibels because it is a joyous expression.  It’s been years since anyone has called me ‘quiet,’ but even with my training in projection, some of my student still can’t hear me.  I really think their hearing is already damaged!  Add to the list of necessary China gear: earplugs.

At the same time, the clash of worlds is kind of wonderful.  I missed dinner last night (for choir practice, obviously) so I trekked out to the food district across the street from the university.  Food carts were pulled out along the side of the road, with meat kabobs or fried bread or giant biscuit sandwiches, long tables filled with a million different noodles, marinating snails, sliced lotus, or boiled dumplings.  Everything is vivid, or it would be if it weren’t covered in a fine layer of dust.  Red chipped paint on the carts, yellow and green advertisements high on both sides of the brightly lit alleyway.  People lounge at long tables on each side of the streets, kind of like a community food court outside.  I walked through last night, pretty hungry, but wanting something new.  Between my white face, broken Chinese, and awesome pantomime, I bought cold marinated noodles with just the right amount of spice while locals pretended like they weren’t taking pictures of me with their smart phones.  It was a good night to be out there, the night sky and tantalizing smells – then I laughed as I realized I was trudging around an alley in some of my best clothes! 

That’s culture shock phase #2 – growing accustomed to something, then realizing how absurd it would seem in a different context.  It’s high-sensory living, amazingly enjoyable and energy consuming.  I find I need a lot more sleep.

The air is still dense, but cooler now.  I feel like fall is one step closer.  I wish I had cinnamon – it would complete my perfect bowl of oatmeal!  But as I sit in my hammock on the other side of the laundry, dreaming of perfect fall oatmeal, I’m also taking in the view; a pagoda and the replica of a Russian castle, both illuminated with brightly colored Christmas lights.  Quack!

The first coffee shop in china!!

I have been in China for 3 ½ weeks, and for the first time I finally feel like I’m sitting in a coffee shop!  It’s a glorious little place on the far side of Two-head Statue square.  (Guess what the statue looks like?  You all are so smart!)  It has the right quiet ambiance, with plants all over the place.  There are white table tops with wood-colored accents, and quiet music playing.

If you’re imagining a 70’s-ish Bond lounge, you’ve got it about right.

This place may sound a little unnoticeable…unless you compare it to the rest of China.  China is LOUD.  Horns, music, cellphone ringing, and the talking volume of the average person is twenty decibels louder than ANY American.  Next time you hear an angry Chinese person, know that they’re not really mad – probably just talking about the weather or children.  Even cellphone rings are impossibly loud.  Of course, if your phone rang at an American volume, you would never hear it in the cacophony that is Xinzheng.  Quiet has been a much-sought-after but seldom-found thing here.  But in this little corner I’ve found a place to just sit a while.

You see, other places to eat are more like restaurants; they’re for visiting.  LOUD visiting.  And you don’t linger in those places.  Also, when Chinese people do linger, they don’t sit.  They squat.  I am not skilled enough to do the Chinese squat.  It may sound a little ridiculous, but I watched a toddler learn how to squat today.  Just like walking, squatting takes some practice before you can do it well.

A random girl just walked up and took a picture with me.  Oh my vanity!  You see, it’s not always flattering.  Usually I think, “Right now?  I am NOT the loveliest of people right now,” especially because I know the picture will be sent around to all of their friends to show off the foreigner they “met.”  I will say this about it though – the Chinese have guts.  Others try to be subtle and take videos of us ‘laowai’ (good –ole foreigner) with their smart phones as we walk by.

You know, for my whole life I’ve just been ‘a white girl from the burbs.’  But HERE…. I am the schizz.  The exotic woman with the giant blue eyes.  It’s so strange.  Sometimes it makes me laugh, especially if people do things like walk into walls or crash their bikes.  Other times I think, ‘I’m eating a piece of bread.  WHY are you watching me?’  It’s very strange to look someone in the eye and wave at them, and have them not realize that you’re talking to them.  On my way to the coffee shop I passed a group of old men jamming on traditional instruments.  I would have loved to stop and listen, but two of them were staring at me dumbfounded (without missing a beat), and to stop would have been awkward….

Other awesome things about this coffee shop: it smells right, and it’s clean.  From what I see, nothing is broken and it smells like coffee and bread.  This is different from most places.  For instance, the noodle place smells like noodles, soup, and whatever just got dumped outside.  That’s kind of the standard here – life kinda smells like whatever got thrown out.   Trash pickup/dumping is irregular, and small children don’t wear diapers – they take care of their business outside.  (WHAT?! That’s gross, you say.  Right?  From the Chinese perspective: ‘WHAT?!  You wrap your child up so they’re stuck in their filth?  Then you wipe it off with your hands??  That’s vile and disgusting.’  Think about it – no diaper waste, no washing cloth diapers, no wipes, powder, diaper-rash, Desitin….)  This makes for  quite an aromatic after-dinner walk.  I invited some “culture students” over to my apartment last night.  The first thing they said was, “Wow, I like the smell in here!”

WIN.

Back to coffee…

I was a little concerned as I watched the shots die, but this is actually the best coffee I’ve had since landing in China.  I think this may have become my go-and-sit place.  If you think having a ‘go-and-sit place’ is silly, try moving to another country and spending hours doing computer work…in your room.  Lame.  But THIS place….it reminds me of Rachel and Anne.  And there’s another win!