Wednesday, August 31, 2011

The Acquisition of Slime

It's quite entertaining to live in a country where you don't speak the language.  Take it from me -- I've done it twice!

There are, of course, the delightful and confusing escapades that happen in the grocery store.  These are made all the more possible here in China because over here (and, to a lesser extent, in some parts of Korea), grocery store layouts frequently defy reason, intuition, common sense . . . in fact, sometimes I think they plot out grocery stores with a deliberate intention of confusing foreigners!  Surely that must be why one finds baby food amongst the pasta, frozen chicken nuggets and frozen french fries in the fruit and vegetable section, and creepy eels swimming around their tank . . . right by the bakery.  

Occasionally, packaging has English on it, but the English is often less than helpful.  I've bought "pork lib soup", "hot love tea", and something that claimed to be strawberry cheese (but was actually yogurt).  With minimal command of language and rapidly-decreasing-but-still-stubbornly-present expectations of logic, one can have quite the jolly time getting thoroughly muddled.  For instance, during one shopping venture in Korea, I purchased what I thought was a package of wet wipes, only to discover later that it was white clay.  What clay was doing in amongst tissues and paper towels is a mystery that I shall likely never unravel.

Only a few weeks ago, I desperately wanted some hand lotion.  Since pretty much everything here in China is written in characters, reading the bottles was not an option.  And no, going by appearance doesn't really work either, when the brands are unfamiliar (and keep in mind that placement in the store is nothing more than a highly deceptive rabbit trail).  I found an employee who was eager to help me, but we lacked a common language.  I tried asking for the product first in English, then in Korean.  No luck.  I had hoped that the Chinese word might magically turn out to be similar.  I then pantomimed rubbing lotion on my hands.  The lady smiled widely and led me . . . to the soap aisle.  I shook my head and tried again.  

After a minute of failed charades, the woman finally said, "Bo-dy lo-shun?"  I nodded eagerly and told her yes in Chinese (that much I can say!).  She gave me a choice between two bottles, I picked one, and I went on my merry way.  A few minutes later, she chased me down.  "No, no -- no bo-dy lo-shun.  Bo-dy wa-shuh!"  I handed the bottle back, and she showed me one that was actually lotion.  This time, I disliked the high price.  I managed to recall the word for "cheaper," though I butchered the pronunciation.  She smiled again and left, then returned a few minutes later with two more bottles for me to choose from.  One was whitening lotion -- I quickly dismissed that one!  The other, in English, said on it "Grapefruit body contouring for quick penetration happy cuticle healthy."  It sounded safe enough.  When I got home, I discovered that it was an odd green slime.  To this day, I have no idea what it actually is.  It does, however, moisturize my hands very well!

No comments:

"Passage—immediate passage! the blood burns in my veins! Away, O soul! hoist instantly the anchor!
Cut the hawsers—haul out—shake out every sail!
Have we not stood here like trees in the ground long enough?
Have we not grovell’d here long enough, eating and drinking like mere brutes?
Have we not darken’d and dazed ourselves with books long enough?

Sail forth! steer for the deep waters only!
Reckless, O soul, exploring, I with thee, and thou with me;
For we are bound where mariner has not yet dared to go, And we will risk the ship, ourselves and all.

O my brave soul!
O farther, farther sail!
O daring joy, but safe! Are they not all the seas of God?
O farther, farther, farther sail!"

~Walt Whitman, "Passage to India"