On the first Friday we spent in China, Savannah and I went shopping for fruit in Carrefour, the local, China equivalent of Target or Walmart. We also happened to be starving. Thus, when I saw the unattended samples of cantaloupe, I grabbed two pieces and handed one of them to Savannah.
Unfortunately, the middle-aged guy who was suppose to be watching the stand saw me. He approached me while I looked at pears and asked me if I wanted to buy cantaloupe. I told him that no, I didn't want anything. He said something else, in rapid Chinese, that I didn't understand, so I resorted to my usual back up plan.
"I am from America, so my Chinese isn't very good," I told him.
"Zhende?" He exclaimed, seemingly surprised, "Really? But you look like a Chinese person!"
I laughed and nodded, "Zhende. Really." He looked at me doubtfully.
I then proceeded to explain how I could be a Chinese American: by explaining my lineage. "My father is from Malaysia, but his grandfather is from GuangDong province. My mother is from Indonesia, but her grandfather is from Fujian province." I pointed at the very American looking Savannah who was looking at fruit an aisle away from me. "She is my friend. She's also from America."
The guy selling fruit at Carrefour pointed out something that has confused seemingly everyone I meet here, except for the students learning Chinese with us. I look like I'm a native Chinese person... until I start trying to speak my halting Chinese, which then makes it clear, I'm not a Chinese National... but then what am I? Most of the Chinese nationals who meet me are just plain confused as to what to do with me and how to treat me. Savannah and I once spent ten minutes explaining to another employee in Carrefour that I could, in fact, be from America but look like a Chinese. When we left her, she was still staring after us dazed, murmuring, "Zhende? Zhende? Really? Really?"
With every new class and teacher at Beijing High School No. 80, we were expected to introduce ourselves, which included stating our country of origin. When I said I was from America, the teachers would immediately ask, "Are your parents from China?" Since my parents technically, aren't from China, I would proceed to explain my lineage, that my father's ancestor is from GuangDong Province, and my mother's ancestor from FuJian Province. Thankfully, at the end of the day, the teachers don't treat me any different from the other American students.
One of the best Chinese speakers in the NSLI-Y group is an Indian boy named Manish. Once, when we were returning from an outing, Manish went to ask a native Chinese how to get to the bus stop. Somehow, I was standing slightly in front of Manish, so the guy Manish was trying to talk to couldn't see Manish, only me. When Manish first spoke, the guy stared at me wondering, how on earth such a deep man's voice could come out of a girl's mouth. Even when Manish stepped out from behind me, the guy continued to stare at me, assuming that the person speaking fluent Chinese was not the Indian boy nor the Americans standing by him, but the Chinese girl who wasn't moving her mouth at all.
On the other hand, many of my friends find my Chinese appearance useful and amusing, almost as amusing as I find the fact that they are stared at all the time. Yesterday, a few of us went to the Silk Market, a building filled with booths selling fake versions of every expensive foreign product. A word of wisdom: don't go there to buy stuff if you have access to a local market. The vendors are vicious, willing to yell across the building to get a customer to come back.
Our group ended up splitting off and I ended up with another NSLI-Y student named Cameron. Unfortunately, between the two of us, we grew the bad habit of asking the price of things we weren't necessarily interested in buying and sometimes even bargaining with them. This naturally got us into some pretty uncomfortable situations. As we approached the undergarment area, it became apparent the vendors assumed we were dating. We both found this infinitely amusing. As we stopped at one of the shops, Cameron became interested in a pair of "sheep leather" gloves. He bargained them down... And then decided he didn't want them. I had been waiting outside the shop and after he took much too long to come out, I went in. It turns out, he didn't have the heart to just walk away from the lady, who was forcefully urging him to buy them. Knowing they assumed I was his girlfriend, I did what my mom would do to my dad in the same situation. I grabbed his shirt sleeve and dragged a snickering Cameron away from the shop. As we left, the lady yelled to Cameron, "You're letting your girlfriend take you away? You're a weak man!"
When it comes to buying things, the very foreign facial features and hair colors my friends have naturally cause them to be charged more. When Savannah decided she wanted cotton candy at the HuTongs we visited today, the cotton candy lady said one stick cost 10 yuan. Suspicious, I caught the eye of the man about to buy some himself and asked, "Zhende? Zhende shi shi kuai? Really? Is it really 10 yuan?" He grimaced slightly and gave me a guilty look before shaking his head slightly. The cotton candy lady glared at me as we walked away. Savannah then decided that I should probably do all the buying from now on.
I find the fact that I look like a Chinese but am a foreigner extremely amusing. It's difficult at times to explain to people that I can't understand them, but the funny moments and the amusing stories that come out of them are completely worth it. I appreciate the fact that I can easily blend in here. To be completely honest, it's amusing watching people unabashedly and openly stare at my friends. Looking like a Chinese but having a background of an American gives me a unique opportunity to see China from the inside.
Back in Carrefour, I finished looking at the fruits in my aisle and looked up to see the cantaloupe guy talking to Savannah. Seeing slight bewilderment on her face, I hurried over to assist.
"Are you from America?" he asked her. Savannah nodded, and he said, "She-" he pointed at me "-said you were. You LOOK like an American. She doesn't!"
Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Do you want cantaloupes?"
Unfortunately, the middle-aged guy who was suppose to be watching the stand saw me. He approached me while I looked at pears and asked me if I wanted to buy cantaloupe. I told him that no, I didn't want anything. He said something else, in rapid Chinese, that I didn't understand, so I resorted to my usual back up plan.
"I am from America, so my Chinese isn't very good," I told him.
"Zhende?" He exclaimed, seemingly surprised, "Really? But you look like a Chinese person!"
I laughed and nodded, "Zhende. Really." He looked at me doubtfully.
I then proceeded to explain how I could be a Chinese American: by explaining my lineage. "My father is from Malaysia, but his grandfather is from GuangDong province. My mother is from Indonesia, but her grandfather is from Fujian province." I pointed at the very American looking Savannah who was looking at fruit an aisle away from me. "She is my friend. She's also from America."
The guy selling fruit at Carrefour pointed out something that has confused seemingly everyone I meet here, except for the students learning Chinese with us. I look like I'm a native Chinese person... until I start trying to speak my halting Chinese, which then makes it clear, I'm not a Chinese National... but then what am I? Most of the Chinese nationals who meet me are just plain confused as to what to do with me and how to treat me. Savannah and I once spent ten minutes explaining to another employee in Carrefour that I could, in fact, be from America but look like a Chinese. When we left her, she was still staring after us dazed, murmuring, "Zhende? Zhende? Really? Really?"
With every new class and teacher at Beijing High School No. 80, we were expected to introduce ourselves, which included stating our country of origin. When I said I was from America, the teachers would immediately ask, "Are your parents from China?" Since my parents technically, aren't from China, I would proceed to explain my lineage, that my father's ancestor is from GuangDong Province, and my mother's ancestor from FuJian Province. Thankfully, at the end of the day, the teachers don't treat me any different from the other American students.
One of the best Chinese speakers in the NSLI-Y group is an Indian boy named Manish. Once, when we were returning from an outing, Manish went to ask a native Chinese how to get to the bus stop. Somehow, I was standing slightly in front of Manish, so the guy Manish was trying to talk to couldn't see Manish, only me. When Manish first spoke, the guy stared at me wondering, how on earth such a deep man's voice could come out of a girl's mouth. Even when Manish stepped out from behind me, the guy continued to stare at me, assuming that the person speaking fluent Chinese was not the Indian boy nor the Americans standing by him, but the Chinese girl who wasn't moving her mouth at all.
On the other hand, many of my friends find my Chinese appearance useful and amusing, almost as amusing as I find the fact that they are stared at all the time. Yesterday, a few of us went to the Silk Market, a building filled with booths selling fake versions of every expensive foreign product. A word of wisdom: don't go there to buy stuff if you have access to a local market. The vendors are vicious, willing to yell across the building to get a customer to come back.
Our group ended up splitting off and I ended up with another NSLI-Y student named Cameron. Unfortunately, between the two of us, we grew the bad habit of asking the price of things we weren't necessarily interested in buying and sometimes even bargaining with them. This naturally got us into some pretty uncomfortable situations. As we approached the undergarment area, it became apparent the vendors assumed we were dating. We both found this infinitely amusing. As we stopped at one of the shops, Cameron became interested in a pair of "sheep leather" gloves. He bargained them down... And then decided he didn't want them. I had been waiting outside the shop and after he took much too long to come out, I went in. It turns out, he didn't have the heart to just walk away from the lady, who was forcefully urging him to buy them. Knowing they assumed I was his girlfriend, I did what my mom would do to my dad in the same situation. I grabbed his shirt sleeve and dragged a snickering Cameron away from the shop. As we left, the lady yelled to Cameron, "You're letting your girlfriend take you away? You're a weak man!"
When it comes to buying things, the very foreign facial features and hair colors my friends have naturally cause them to be charged more. When Savannah decided she wanted cotton candy at the HuTongs we visited today, the cotton candy lady said one stick cost 10 yuan. Suspicious, I caught the eye of the man about to buy some himself and asked, "Zhende? Zhende shi shi kuai? Really? Is it really 10 yuan?" He grimaced slightly and gave me a guilty look before shaking his head slightly. The cotton candy lady glared at me as we walked away. Savannah then decided that I should probably do all the buying from now on.
I find the fact that I look like a Chinese but am a foreigner extremely amusing. It's difficult at times to explain to people that I can't understand them, but the funny moments and the amusing stories that come out of them are completely worth it. I appreciate the fact that I can easily blend in here. To be completely honest, it's amusing watching people unabashedly and openly stare at my friends. Looking like a Chinese but having a background of an American gives me a unique opportunity to see China from the inside.
Back in Carrefour, I finished looking at the fruits in my aisle and looked up to see the cantaloupe guy talking to Savannah. Seeing slight bewilderment on her face, I hurried over to assist.
"Are you from America?" he asked her. Savannah nodded, and he said, "She-" he pointed at me "-said you were. You LOOK like an American. She doesn't!"
Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Do you want cantaloupes?"
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