Here's What I Was Eating:

Without further ado, here are the answers from my previous post about odd comments made during mealtimes:

• "So, do I eat the whole foot in one bite, or am I supposed to eat it one toe at a time?" - This was during my first encounter with chicken feet, in a recipe where they are served hot.  I can report that although the texture made me a little squirmy, it was actually quite tasty.  Not much meat, though.  I will add, however, that I was NOT in favor of chicken feet when I had them served to me cold on another occasion.  
• "I don't swallow the toenails, right?" - Also from the chicken feet incident.
• "How on earth do I eat this animal??  He looks like he could fight me to the death before I can even get him in my mouth!" - This was my second time seeing but first time eating an odd little sea creature called a 'pipa xia'.  The best English translation I could find called it a 'slipper lobster'.  He was so delicious that I consumed many of his friends and relatives as well as him.
• "So you suck the brains out?" - Also from the previous creature.
• "Hmmm, I think this one was pregnant when she made it into the pot." - I was eating a shrimp whose egg sacs were still intact.  
• "And you said this was what part of the cow?  . . . . . Oh." - Yes, your first thought was correct.  I did consume a bull's, er . . . yeah, THAT part of the bull.  Ew.
• "Sorry, his body armor got caught on my lip." - Those pipa xia really fight back!
• "Maggie, I'm pretty sure Diana was pulling your leg.  I really don't think you're supposed to serve them frozen." - My dear friend/adopted sister Maggie prepared shrimp . . . and served them frozen.
• "Wow, judging by the leg, this one was the Marilyn Monroe of the species!" - My friend Linda and I had decided upon rabbit legs for our lunch.  Quite possibly my new favorite meat!
• "It's a very handy animal.  All that labor, and delicious, too!" -  I really love donkey meat.
• "Wait, I'm not sure if I understood you correctly.  Sorry, my Chinese isn't always so good.  Did you say this was fish brains or some kind of vegetable?" - It was not, in fact fish brains (although I have eaten those, too).  It was a taro, and the Chinese name for it sounds almost the same as the Chinese for fish brains.
• "You know, I really thought this part of the body would taste bumpier, but actually I really like it!" - First and definitely not the last time eating cow tongue.
• "It's sort of like poetic justice eating him, considering what his relatives have done to me in the past." - My salad included some jellyfish in it.
• "You're sure you're not pulling my leg?  Civilized people actually eat that and enjoy it?  It's not just a fun trick to play on a foreigner?  You're going to eat it, too?" - This was when my friend invited me out for fish brains . . . and yes, I really did eat them.  Odd, but not awful.
• "Once you get used to the sliminess, it's really delicious." - This was a special type of fungus that I had never tried before.
• "I'm pretty sure that corpses smell better than this.  How did anyone ever get the initial desire to find out if it was edible?" - Durian smells absolutely dreadful, but is quite delicious . . . if cooked.  It's horrendously disgusting if not cooked.
• "Yeah, the tentacles really add something to the texture of the dish." - Just your average dish of octopus noodle soup.
• "Do you realize, I have never once eaten ___ cooked?  I've only ever had it raw!" - Salmon!  Someday I'll find out if I like it cooked as much as I like it raw.
• "Well now I've got a tail stuck in my tooth . . . " - There are hazards to eating very small shrimp.
• "So the poison has a lot of health benefits?" - Ah, scorpions.  Yummy!
• "I just wish he wouldn't look at me with quite so much pleading in his eyes as I'm getting ready to start tearing into him with my chopsticks." - This was from the time when I ate fish brains.
• "The fungus just adds so much flavor to the dish." - Black fungus and eggs, one of my new favorite dishes.
• "This smells like dead feet, but it sure tastes good!" - My first time eating aptly named 'stinky tofu'.
• "Oh, you're right — the texture is a lot like mashed brains!" - One of my favorite tofu soups translates into English as 'tofu brains' . . . although there are no actual brains in the soup.

The long, long list of other foods I've eaten, either in China so far or in Korea includes such delicacies as:  Fried silkworm larva, a grasshopper, a cricket (both adult and pupa), sea worm (I thought it was a weird type of noodle), sea snail (I thought it was beef), raw beef, "thousand year old egg," and sea cucumber (the most revolting thing I have ever put in my mouth -- although the fried silkworm larva is a definite contender for that honor).  Sometimes I eat things just to be polite, other times out of a sense of adventure, and still other times because I have no idea what it is.  Life overseas is definitely an experience that broadens your horizons!

Game: What Was Stephanie Eating When She Said This?

The following are actual statements said by me while eating, most within the past four months.  I feel that, better than anything else, these comments vividly illustrate just how much I have changed since I was a child (I was an incredibly picky eater until I moved out on my own).  Many of these comments were originally made in Chinese, but since most people who read my blog speak English, I've translated everything into English.  For fun, try guessing what I was eating when each statement was made (I'll post the answers next week).

1. "So, do I eat the whole foot in one bite, or am I supposed to eat it one toe at a time?"
2. "I don't swallow the toenails, right?"
3. "How on earth do I eat this animal??  He looks like he could fight me to the death before I can even get him in my mouth!"
4. "So you suck the brains out?"
5. "Hmmm, I think this one was pregnant when she made it into the pot."
6. "And you said this was what part of the cow?  . . . . . Oh."
7. "Sorry, his body armor got caught on my lip."
8. "Maggie, I'm pretty sure Diana was pulling your leg.  I really don't think you're supposed to serve them frozen."
9. "Wow, judging by the leg, this one was the Marilyn Monroe of the species!"
10. "It's a very handy animal.  All that labor, and delicious, too!"
11. "Wait, I'm not sure if I understood you correctly.  Sorry, my Chinese isn't always so good.  Did you say this was fish brains or some kind of vegetable?"
12. "You know, I really thought this part of the body would taste bumpier, but actually I really like it!"
13. "It's sort of like poetic justice eating him, considering what his relatives have done to me in the past."
14. "You're sure you're not pulling my leg?  Civilized people actually eat that and enjoy it?  It's not just a fun trick to play on a foreigner?  You're going to eat it, too?"
15. "Once you get used to the sliminess, it's really delicious."
16. "I'm pretty sure that corpses smell better than this.  How did anyone ever get the initial desire to find out if it was edible?"
17. "Yeah, the tentacles really add something to the texture of the dish."
18. "Do you realize, I have never once eaten ___ cooked?  I've only ever had it raw!"
19. "Well now I've got a tail stuck in my tooth . . . "
20. "So the poison has a lot of health benefits?"
21. "I just wish he wouldn't look at me with quite so much pleading in his eyes as I'm getting ready to start tearing into him with my chopsticks."
22. "The fungus just adds so much flavor to the dish."
23. "This smells like dead feet, but it sure tastes good!"
24. "Oh, you're right — the texture is a lot like mashed brains!"

The Stomach Flu: We Shall Call It a Cultural Experience

Just two weeks had passed since my lengthy bout with flu, and I thought all was well.  Aaaaand then, the roommates both toppled over with stomach flu.  I knew my days were numbered.

The vomiting actually started on Tuesday evening, but I thought I could just forego eating and thus make it through school on Wednesday.  With many, many teachers down with this thing, I was concerned that we would not have enough subs to cover my classes.  However, the low blood sugar from not eating had me so dizzy on Wednesday that I finally gave in and ate a decent lunch . . . mistake.  After I vomited up my lunch, I agreed with the other teachers that it was best to head home, rather than help spread the disease further.

Heading home was not such a simple matter.  Our dreadful dirt road that leads up to the school building is at present being paved, which means one cannot walk down it to the main road.  Fortunately, the guards were helpful (and my Chinese is good enough now) so I was able to get directions to the main road via a very rustic, "scenic" route through the local village.  Nothing like getting raced at by a bedraggled chicken while holding your heaving stomach and attempting not to trip on VERY narrow alleyways!  A few locals chatted with me pleasantly as I wound my way through the never-ending maze of tiny ramshackle buildings in search of the main road that I was beginning to question ever being able to find.  I was quite delighted when my path finally deposited me on the correct road - albeit a bit further down than I had anticipated (I guess the chicken distracted me a bit).

I had initially planned to taxi home but, ditz that I've been lately, I forgot to put money in my wallet and only had a few kuai with me.  So, 104 bus it was for me - my least favorite bus, but the only one that goes from way out where the school is to my home.  The main trouble with the 104 is that it never comes!  I waited more than 30 minutes for that wretched contraption, while suffering the indignity of having THREE  301 buses arrive in succession, within less than five minutes.  I was, in my present nauseated and dizzy state, rather embittered against the 104 bus.

When the bus finally came, I breathed a sigh of relief - and after the second stop, realized that that breath might well be my last.  A man sat in the available seat next to me, hauling a basket full of very fresh, very fragrant fish.  It may have been the fever, but I am convinced that I saw some wiggling tails . . . and I also earnestly believe that one of those fish winked impishly at me.  The smell was pretty damaging to me in my state, but the other options were stand in the back or get off and wait forever for another 104.  It was only the beguiling image of my oh-so-merciful bed playing across my mind that kept me in my seat, holding my breath next to the fish-man.

As soon as I got off the bus, I began to heave and soon discovered, to my surprise, that there were indeed still some contents left in my stomach.  The gutter received them all.  I was relieved that, for once, there were very few people around to see the show, "Remains of the Lunch."  As I finally recovered myself enough to head home (the 104 doesn't go all that close to my home, so there was still a decent walk after disembarking), I became aware that the Korean business behind me was merrily blasting "Gangnam Style" on its loudspeakers . . . and I just happened to be vomiting right during the line "Hey, sexy ladies!"  I stifled a chuckle, then headed home, mentally composing my own version of the song, containing the memorable line "Upchuck Gangnam style!"

It was with considerable relief that I entered the front door, ghostwalked to the bedroom, and collapsed facedown in the welcoming embrace of my bed.

Socially Unacceptable Behavior I've Picked up in China

"All good people agree,

And all good people say,

All nice people, like Us, are We

And everyone else is They: 

But if you cross over the sea, 

Instead of over the way,
You may end by (think of it!) looking on 
We  As only a sort of They!"
~ Rudyard Kipling

Living here these past nearly-eleven months, I have picked up some "bad habits":

1. When I see another foreigner (bluntly, someone with a non-Asian face), I stare.  I don't just give a polite, disinterested glance; I give a prolonged, Chinese-style, "Look, it's a laowai!" stare.  Running through my mind are a swirl of observations and queries:  "Do I know you?"  "Hmm, German?"  "What accent will come out of your mouth when you speak?"  "Newbie or tourist?"  "Wow, look at how big her eyes are!"  "I haven't seen that shade of skin in months!"  "I wonder what on earth an [insert nationality here] is doing here?"  
2. I cross the road at a leisurely pace, walking directly in front of multiple lanes of oncoming traffic.  Guiding my steps is the confidence that comes from knowing that they probably won't actually hit me, although they will come darn close.  (Of course, the sad fact is that if I were Chinese, they probably would hit me -- I personally know three different Chinese people who have been hit by cars while crossing the street.)
3. I openly discuss diarrhea.  In fact, diarrhea was about the third or fourth thing I learned how to say in Chinese when I first arrived (you may draw your own conclusions from that statement).  Now granted, I do come from a family that delights in sharing, analyzing, and comparing various southerly-located bodily functions, but most westerners really don't discuss diarrhea, in depth, in polite conversation.  Certainly not with the lady they buy their vegetables from!  (To be fair, she brought up the subject.)  The topic has also come up repeatedly with both of my Chinese teachers -- they really love diarrhea as subject matter for sample sentences.  It was even up for discussion with a complete stranger I met and chatted with (in Chinese) on a bus, and was happily chatted about with a taxi driver on one occasion.  And of course, diarrhea is highly appropriate lunchtime conversation with several of my Chinese friends.
4. I use my fingers when eating, if it happens to more conveniently assist the food in its route from bowl/plate to mouth.  It's perfectly acceptable to do so here - Chinese friends are constantly telling me, "Just pick up the meat in your hands; don't bother with chopsticks!"

We All Laugh in the Same Language

It was difficult knowing exactly what to pack when I filled my suitcases in preparation for China last July, although I did pack with considerably more knowledge and foresight than I had back when I packed for my year in Korea.  This time around, I knew well the value of "sacred objects": a treasured teddy bear who has been with me since I was eight, the dragon who accompanied me to Korea, the memory book my Virginia friends put together for me, the afghan my dear friend Rachel crocheted for me.  I knew that any weight those took up in the suitcase was weight well spent.  But what to spend my remaining limited pounds of weight on?

I knew that shoes and clothing would be hard to come by, with my "curvy" American size -- I would have to bring as much as possible.  And necessities like medications, deodorant, and, er, "western-style feminine necessities" were certainly worth the space they took up.  Books were a tragic situation:  I knew there just wasn't room for them, but I also knew I couldn't live my days happily without some Sayers (still not on Kindle, sadly), my Common Book of Prayer, and a couple of other favorites.  My old movies on DVD are valuable stress relievers (and, as I have found over the past several months, Chinese friends really enjoy them).  The rest of the packing was headache-inducing as I struggled to place the appropriate value on all of the things that had suddenly sprung from the woodwork, as it were, and seemed to tapdance about me singing of their various merits.  How to narrow it down?  It was all "just stuff" -- but some of that stuff can really make the difference between a stressed-out Stephanie and a relaxed one.  More importantly, I needed to assess what would hold the most value for achieving my goal of bonding with those around me.

In the end, I made the right decisions this time.  I reasoned that games, though they take up weight and are not used daily, nevertheless spark social interaction and could help in relationship-building with Chinese people.  What better way to bridge a language/culture gap than through laughter?  And so, even though it weighs about five pounds and meant leaving behind several other things that I wanted, Qwirkle made the cut.

Qwirkle is a shape and color matching game that is equally fun and challenging for both children and adults.  Best of all, by its very nature, it is easy to teach to someone who does not speak the same language (or who just doesn't speak it as well).  As I learned tonight, Qwirkle is a perfect game for mixed groups of foreign and Chinese people, kids and adults.

I had been wanting, for some time, to have my teacher Theresa over for dinner.  She took me out for coffee on a Saturday a few weeks back and basically voluntarily gave up about three hours of her time to teach me Chinese (we chatted, reviewed vocabulary, and then played some games in Chinese -- in other words, I had a wonderful time).  I couldn't wait to give a return invitation.  Finally, I had my chance tonight.  I had Theresa, another close Chinese friend Maggie (the one who gave me my first Chinese nickname, 老三), two foreign friends, Edith and Angela, and the kids of another set of friends (Edith was babysitting them).  With such a varied group of people, I was concerned at first about how to ensure that everyone had a good time.  My efforts seemed initially doomed when the local stores suddenly decided to stop carrying the ingredients I needed for the meal I had planned (that happens a lot here).  Fortunately, my creativity rallied at the last minute:

I decided to introduce my two Chinese friends to nachos (I knew the foreigners would be happy, particularly the kids).  Although cheese is not so loved by the Chinese as it is by Westerners, I knew that the two friends I had invited are both fans of it.  And, it struck me as wise to have a meal where people could pick and choose the ingredients they wanted to include, since I was trying to please the palates of two quite divergent cultures and two equally divergent age groups.  Nachos, as I had hoped, were a tremendous hit!

For entertainment, I wanted a game that would let the kids be involved without forcing the adults to pretend to have fun while actually being bored.  Even more importantly, I did not want Theresa and Maggie to to feel uncomfortable -- some Western games can have the effect with Chinese people, if they are not confident enough with their English (Maggie and Theresa are both pretty fluent, but modest).  I wanted a game where everyone would have as close as possible to a fair shot at winning.  Qwirkle was perfect for my purposes!

Since it involves matching colors and shapes, it is easy enough to pick up that explaining the game is easy.  However, there is a lot of strategy involved, which keeps it interesting for everyone.  At the same time, it is simple enough that you can easily keep up conversations while playing.  To make it even more interesting, I decided to add a rule:  if you made a mistake, the people on either side of you got to make a rule for you that lasted until your next turn (for example, having to act like a bird or only being able to speak with an accent).  The kids got MORE than a bit crazy with the added rule, but hey, at least they had fun (their parents are in America at the moment, so I figured something crazy would be good for keeping the missing-Mom-and-Dad-tinglings away).  After the kids left to be put to bed, Maggie and Theresa decided to stay for one more game with me, which was also a great opportunity for them to make me speak more Chinese (ALL of my Chinese friends LOVE to do this).

It was nice to find yet another game that crosses cultures, languages, and ages well.  It always feels great to clean up after a successful evening like this and know no one was excluded, and that everyone had fun together.  These are my favorite moments in China:  when East and West meet together and realize that they are not so different after all.  We all laugh in the same language.

Fumbling with Language

I thought, for the general amusement of all, that I would share from my ever-growing list of mistakes I have made while learning this lovely, entertaining, confusing, frustrating, and delightful language (yes, Chinese is all that and more):

What a Difference Tone Can Make!
The undisputed winner of "Most Humiliating Chinese Mistake Ever" is the time that I accidentally said my first (and, hopefully, last) Chinese obscenity.  My friend Linda (who is Chinese) was quizzing me on characters and held up the flashcard that I had written 草 on.  In my excitement at recognizing it, I shouted out "cao" . . . but with the wrong tone. When you say it with the third tone, it's a nice, innocent word that means grass or plant.  Say it with fourth tone, as I inadvertently did, and you make your very closest friend in China turn incredibly pale from shock!  Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped, and she insisted that I, "Say it again, right now, exactly like you just said it!"  After Linda's horror died down enough to explain what I had said, she was able to inform me that I had just discovered the equivalent of the 'F' word in Chinese.  哎呀！

We All Have Our Hobbies . . . 
Another classic is the time, back in the early days when I was just learning pinyin, that my teacher (Jackie, at the time) wanted me to say "I like birds."  With the correct tone, the sentence should be “我喜欢鸟” ("wŏ xĭ huan niăo").  However, ignorantly using the wrong tone on niao turned the sentence into “我喜欢尿.”  To the untrained Western ear, the two sentences sound the same.  But to the ear that knows Chinese, I confidentially informed my teacher, "I like to pee."

I Suppose It Could Be a Legitimate Thing to Study
When I first started with my teacher Theresa, she was asking me what I like most about Chinese, after delightedly discovering how much I love learning this language.  I meant to tell Theresa that I really love to study 汉字 (hànzì), which means Chinese characters.  Naturally, I used third tone on zi instead of fourth and instead said that "我爱学汉子" ("wŏ ài xué hànzĭ"), which actually means "I love to study men."  I don't think I have ever made Theresa laugh so hard!

It's Raining Stephanie
Recently, when telling a friend in Chinese about my experiences with gardening as a teenager, I was relating the tragic experience I had with a beautiful yellow rosebush.  Yellow is my favorite color, and I had been so excited to find this gorgeous plant.  I did everything I could to make it happy and thriving, but the rosebush repaid me by dying.  I meant to tell my friend that the death of the rosebush made me cry, but I accidentally mixed up 哭 (kū) with 雨 (yŭ) -- so, I instead told her that "I rained".  She was quite amused at the mental image.

The Ice Might Get in the Way . . . 
In my lesson with my weekend teacher, Lulu, today, I was supposed to be discussing things that people can enjoy doing in the wintertime.  I meant to say that I really enjoy ice skating in the wintertime, but for some reason, I said "huá shuĭ" instead of "huá bīng".  So, the sentence that came out of my mouth was, "In the wintertime, I often like to go water-skiing."

You Really Shouldn't Eat Those
When discussing food with some (Chinese) friends, I was talking about some of the things that I really enjoyed eating when I lived in Korea.  In particular, I was very fond of the Korean pancakes (not the delightful fluffy breakfast treats that spring to mind; these are a completely differently but nevertheless incredibly delicious type of pancake).  Sadly, I yet again made a mistake with my tones.  As soon as I informed my friends that one of my favorite dishes in Korea was "lăo bīng," the look of confused horror on their faces proved that I had made an error.  "Oh, wait, I used the wrong tones!" I realized aloud.  "I meant to say, lào bĭng."  "Oh, good," one of my friends laughed.  "I am so glad to hear that you do not like to eat veterans!"

Perhaps I Should Just Make My Own Language!
And then there are the times when I get all the words right, but I just can't get the grammar correct.  When checking over a short story that I had written entirely in Chinese (my first such attempt), Lulu suddenly laughed aloud.  As it turned out, I had used Chinese words with perfect English grammar.  Smiling, Lulu remarked, "You know, Stephanie, you and I are so much alike.  I speak very good 'Chinglish' and you speak very good 'Englinese'!"

Sacrifice?

I was caught off guard recently when three different friends all used the same word in describing my life here in China.  They all said that I had made sacrifices to be here.  At the time of each conversation, I didn't quite know how to respond adequately or appropriately -- I think I express myself much better in writing than I do verbally.

I adamantly do not view life here as sacrifice.  Is there hardship?  Sometimes, but it isn't privation of any sort.  Emotionally I have gone through quite a bit these past nine months, and yes, all of those things are difficult to handle alone and so far from the sources.  I struggled tremendously with guilt during the worst part of Mom's illness, wondering how I could stay here while she was left without a daughter to care for her -- but at the same time, I was following the clearly marked path that I saw God leading me down, and also honoring my mother's wishes; there just was no other course to take.  I've struggled recently with some of the other bad news coming in from stateside, coupled with some issues here.  It's hardship, it's baggage, it's weight; in my crasser moments I refer to it succinctly as "crap."  Sometimes things make me cry.  Recently, things made me angry (a rare occurrence, so I didn't quite know how to handle it).  But I don't think it warrants the title "sacrifice".

To me, sacrifice is so much bigger and deeper.  It involves tremendous loss.  I've lost things, yes, and the losses of some things do hurt (like Eowyn, St. Timothy's, the close involvement with Lantern Hollow Press, Inklings III, freedom in some of my decisions).  But I haven't had to give up anything essential.  And I feel like I have gained so much that to call coming here sacrifice is almost an insult to God.  I've been given so much, even when I'm spending a few weeks weighed down with situations beyond my control.  I know that my previous two posts lacked my usual joy, but even in the dark cloud I've been inside lately, I've still known that I am blessed to be here.  It's a gift, not a sacrifice.  I know that the people who have called it that have meant well, but I really stiffen at having such a significant word applied incorrectly -- it just seems like a slight to the people who really do make sacrifices.

Jesus's work on the cross was sacrifice.  God sending Him was sacrifice.  David Brainerd working himself to death at age 29 was sacrifice.  Taking a bullet meant for someone else or giving away your last dollar to feed someone else or living in a leper colony in order to care for them -- these things are sacrifice.  I don't think that sacrifice always needs to involve death necessarily, but it does need to be pretty earth-shattering, in light of precedent.  Moving to China to teach my favorite subject to extraordinary students and show love to the most gracious and loving people I've ever met -- that's just not sacrifice.  Having a few tough blows isn't enough to make it that either.  It makes me really uncomfortable to have that word applied to my situation.  I know that most people stateside have a very different view of China; please, please let this post convince you that life in China is not a sacrifice.

To the three dear people who have used that word with me recently -- please don't feel censured; I understand what you meant even if I stumbled about in a verbal confusion when you first said it.  But my life here is not sacrifice.  I may have spent 26 years not wanting to ever set foot NEAR China, but it only took a few months to change that.  I am exactly where I want to be.  I've been given the rare gift of having my dream come true, even though I never knew it was my dream.  I am honestly very happy, even when I'm sad.

Standing (almost) Alone

"Stand up for what is right, even when you stand alone."

My fourth grade social studies teacher had this statement on a poster hung amidst a myriad of similar mantras in her classroom.  I recall that the words overlay a photograph of a man standing dramatically erect in an obvious sea of disapproval.  Although the image was cliche enough that I don't recall it clearly, the sentiment has stayed with me all this time.

I had to live out this statement earlier last week; I have seen something all year which is horribly wrong and which I have fought against constantly.  The sheer frustration at people who should know better behaving in such a callous, inexcusable fashion built up until I suddenly found myself speaking out about it, trying desperately to hold back emotion and avoid inadvertent insult.  I didn't want to cause hurt or anger, I didn't desire confrontation; I just knew that if I stayed silent, I was as guilty as the rest of them.  I needn't have concerned myself:  my words were "water off a duck's back" as they say.  Nothing changed; the people who are most to blame in this either ignored me completely or showed me the cold shoulder.  Conversations in the days to follow proved that my stand accomplished nothing; apparently this situation is not even on the radar for the people creating it.  And that, to me, is the ugliest fact of all.

Was it worth it?  Yes; I can answer affirmatively without hesitation.  It made no discernible difference, I regretfully have to admit.  I suppose I didn't really expect it to -- this cancerous behavior is too engrained at the moment.  Definitions and morals will have to change before this situation can be resolved -- and the message is just getting completely blocked out by other, more frivolous concerns.  However, I can sleep with a clear conscience because I know that I TRIED.  I spoke out.  I didn't blindly accept something that I know to be wrong.

It's been difficult because I want so much to like every person I meet and to think the best of him or her.  But when you consistently see people content to behave in a hideous manner towards other people, perfectly content to keep hurting and excluding them, how can you keep thinking the best of the "guilty" parties?  They KNOW better.  They each have an obvious moral compass.  They have NO EXCUSE.  They make excuses, but none of them are valid.

How do you fight against wrong when the people doing it don't view it as wrong?  How do you keep yourself free from the tarnish of their actions?   How do you avoid falling into a self-righteous attitude?  How do you fight against the anger that rises up within you when you see so little impact from words that came from the heart, words tinged with pain at what you witness each day?  How can seemingly GOOD people be so BLIND?  These are the sorts of questions I've been grappling with each day.  They're the tarnish on otherwise beautiful, meaningful days.  I've had to remove myself repeatedly from situations just to keep from speaking out again, this time in anger.  I'm not completely alone -- a few other people share the frustration and the burden -- but sometimes it feels like I might as well be alone.

I've shed a lot of tears lately.

Culture Conversations

A Kind Person
Me:  "Linda, how do I say 'kind' in Chinese?"
Linda, slightly puzzled:  "Kind?"
Me:  "Not zhŏng; I want to know how to say 'kind' as in, she is a kind person."
Linda:  "Oh.  You can say qīn qiè dē."
Me:  "Qīn qiè dē?  Could you write down the characters for me?"
Linda writes out the characters (亲切的).
Me:  "Oh, wonderful!  Now I can thank people better when they are kind to me."
Linda:  "Oh, actually, we don't say that.  You should only use this when you are not talking to them."
Me:  "Like if I'm talking to someone else about a person who is kind?"
Linda:  "Yes, never to the person's face.  We don't say things so strongly."
Me:  "So to someone's face . . ."
Linda:  "You can say hĕn hăo, or maybe hé aĭ kĕ rén, but never qīn qiè dē.  If you say that, they will maybe feel —"
Me:  "Bù hăo yì si?"   (Bù hăo yì si means embarrassed.)
Linda:  "Duì."
Me:  "So maybe I should just stick to complementing Chinese people in English?"
Linda:  "Yes!  Exactly!  You can say as strong as you want to if you do it in English."
Me:  "In that case, you are the KINDEST person I know!"


Western Directness
Me:  "Linda, would you say that I am a direct person?  You know, like a westerner is direct?"
Linda:  "Oh yes!"
Me:  "Am I ever too direct?  I mean, do I ever accidentally seem insulting to Chinese staff here?"
Linda:  "Oh no, no, you are never that way.  You are a very accessible person."
Me:  "Accessible?"
Linda:  "We are all feel comfortable with you."
Me:  "Ah, okay.  So I don't offend with my western directness?  Ever?"
Linda:  "No, because you are not so direct in Chinese.  You only do it in English."


Typical Questions
Lulu:  "One of my students just send me a text.  He wants to know how to say to a Chinese person, 'mind your own business.'"
Me, laughing:  "Oh, did he get asked how much his salary is?  Or how much he weighs?"
Lulu:  "Yes, probably.  But you can't answer that way!"
Me:  "Ah.  Yes, we find those questions rude in America.  We don't think it's polite to ask things like that, especially to ask a stranger those things."
Here the conversation went on in Chinese, since this was, after all, during one of my lessons.  However, for the sake of my readers, I'll record it in English.
Lulu:  "In China, it is not rude; it is okay to ask the questions if it is an older person."
Me:  "Yes, I get asked those questions often, too often!"
Lulu:  "How do you answer?"
Me:  "Oh, I have an easy solution.  Any time that I don't want to answer a question from a Chinese person, I just say, 'tīng bù dŏng' and pretend that I don't understand Chinese."
Lulu, nodding:  "Yes, that is a very good method."


Double Words
Lulu:  "So sometimes we say the word two times, like cháng cháng or kān kān."
Me:  "Yes!  How do I know when to do that?"
Lulu:  "There are usually three times when we do it.  First is when it is a suggestion or maybe not so much.  And second is if you want to have a try, maybe not definite about it."
Me:  "Okay."
Lulu:  "And sometimes we just say it because we think it sounds better.  Because, you know, when we speak Chinese we usually want to use two characters instead of one."
Me:  "Why?"
Lulu:  "Just . . . because.  Actually, I am not sure why exactly we do it."
Me:  "So in other words, you do it just to confuse poor westerners who are trying to learn your beautiful and thoroughly frustrating language?!"
Lulu, laughing:  "Yes, probably."
Me:  "I KNEW it!"
Lulu:  "So we use those three ways for putting the word twice."
Me:  "I'm never going to understand this, am I?"
Lulu:  "Probably not."