Welcome Foreing Teacher to our school

No, that's how they spelled "foreign" on the banner.

I noticed it hanging above the entrance while we were taking pictures in front of the building. The kids were still milling about, some making last-ditch efforts to gain my attention--or at least to get the candy I had in my pocket. I can't say I felt used, although there isn't a better way to describe it, really. 

I should back up.

Two weeks ago, the head liaison (and quasi-friend) from the Dept. of Foreign Affairs at my school asked me if I could do him a favor. "A friend of a friend is opening an English school, and he wants a foreign English teacher there." I knew where this was going, but I thought it'd be an adventure, something I knew I could tell friends and family and therapists about later. So I said yes. 

In China, this means several things. It means I'm doing my liaison friend a favor, because his friend is helping his friend who is helping his friend. It also means that my liaison friend's friend is getting a favor from me, because his friend's quasi-friend is helping his other friend. I'm helping this friend too (the friend of the friend of the quasi-friend) because I'm going to be at his school. Simple. 

This is called guanxi. In short, it's the complex network of relationships established between businessmen, officials, coworkers, and acquaintances in China. Basically, it's how you get anything done, particularly in the business world. Your success in China depends on good guanxi--it's all about who you know and how you use it. And it can get thick. Complex. Intricate. Need a visual? Just take a look at this picture below:

It's a picture of the central metabolic pathways in humans (yes, nerdy biology reference). I chose this because I can think of little else in this world that displays a more complex, incomprehensible, convoluted set of connections. This is the sort of mess I imagine guanxi might look like if it were mapped out (and then multiplied a few hundred million times). Or perhaps this other picture gives you the idea:

Again, another nerdy biology reference (the connections in some bacterial protein-DNA genomic pathways, I think). You get the point--guanxi is an impossibly elaborate web of connections. 

Another thing you should know about the request to "have a foreign English teacher" at this school is that it perfectly illustrates a common Chinese mindset: as long as it looks good. No matter if it's built on mis-representations or shoddy workmanship or lies--if it looks good on the outside, it doesn't matter what it's like on the inside. And you see this manifest itself everywhere. All these new apartment buildings, everywhere, are empty--but at least it looks good for "progress" to have lots of new buildings constantly popping up!... This building is five years old, but looks like it's 20 years old inside, but no matter! We just painted the outside... Tackle the major civic and social ills? No, let's pour all our time and money into redoing the highway, again and again. Foreigners use this road!

And so it goes with that school. Never mind I've never been to this English school, nor heard of it until two weeks ago. Never mind I teach college students in a class of 20-30, not 10-12-year-olds in a group of 100. If there's a foreigner there when the parents come by, it'll look good. Why it seems that no one will question these sort of things, I don't know. Hey, what happened to the foreigner? Wasn't there a foreigner who was going to be teaching here? (The response: What?! What gave you that impression? Because the first time you came here to this new English school you saw your child being taught by a foreign English teacher? You assumed that meant the teacher worked here? Your mistake!)

I'm used to it though. That's why schools all over the country (including my college), from primary up to college, hire foreign teachers like me. You think it's because they want us to teach their students English? Maybe. Often it's mostly, if not entirely, about looking good. A school has a good reputation--swagger, if you will--if it has foreign teachers. But it only has to "have" them. That doesn't mean they care about what or how the foreigners teach. Sometimes I feel like a show horse, but I don't care. I came here to build relationships with students, and that's exactly what being a teacher here allows me to do. And to be honest, I like having complete, absolute autonomy in my classroom. I can do anything I want. Anything. (But I still take the job seriously, of course. I'm hitting those students with some knowledge.)

So back to Saturday morning, that day of the favor. The man who owns the school and his friend (the friend of my liaison friend) picked me up at my apartment building in a van and drove me the 30 minutes to his school. 

Mr. Shi, the friend of the school owner: "So you were told about the two hour lesson you'll be teaching, right?"

Me: "Ah, no. No one told me that." Even after I had explicitly asked my quasi-friend what I'd be expect to do. When I did, he gave me a wishy-washy fizzle of an answer. But I'm not surprised that something like this happened. 

Let me elaborate. Many Chinese (or at least from what I've seen) have this incredible knack for not really explaining, at all, what certain favors or requests entail. Things like this. Things that would normally require significant preparation. Many Chinese also have a knack for asking people to do things on the spot. Things like sing a song in front of 300 people, or, in this case, teach a two-hour lesson to a group of 100 10-12-year-olds with no preparation and zero experience in that area of teaching. I don't get it. I just don't. And I feel like it happens a lot to foreigners. Maybe I'm coming from a very biased perspective (well, not maybe. I am coming from a biased perspective), but I sometimes wonder if many Chinese have this misconception that foreigners can just simply do anything at any time with no preparation required (which we can't). I've resolved to learn a repertoire of songs I can refer to when I'm asked to sing for a group of people (which happens all the time. The Chinese LOVE singing. They love, love, love it. Specifically, they love asking others to sing for them. Even more specifically, they seem to love asking foreigners to sing to them). I've learned how to read group dynamics and can usually gauge when I'm in an environment that will yield singing requests. I've also learned to pre-empt such public singing disasters by clearly explaining up front that I will not be singing, no matter what. 

Look, I like singing. I do. But not like this. Not an impromptu solo without accompaniment in front of a large crowd, most of whom wouldn't fully appreciate "Let It Be"--or the one verse that I can remember, at least. 

I digress. Back to the van:

Mr. Shi: "Yeah, you'll be teaching a group of students. Not a big problem. Just talk to them. Maybe you can play games."

Me: "Ah, ok. How old are the kids? And what's their skill level with English?"

Mr. Shi: "They're 10-12 years old. Their English is, uh, maybe it's only a little. Like maybe what you'd have after just a little bit of English study. Maybe two years? Something like that."

I assumed it was too much to ask that I'd have time to prepare. My mind raced to think of what I might do, but my wealth of teaching topics is geared toward college-age students in a class of 20-30 students. Will they have paper and pens? Will I have a blackboard? Will I even have a classroom? 

The answer to these questions was no. I walked into the medium-sized room and found a group of children who had been waiting just for me. All fears aside, I was excited to see 100 or so Chinese children cheering and smiling at the sight of a foreigner. They kind of went nuts--in a good way. I felt like a rockstar. Kids are the best, ever.  

But then everyone was watching me, waiting for me to do something. Fortunately, one of the teachers soon approached me and informed me that she had a few plans. Unfortunately, those "plans" were as follows:

1. Teach the kids some words.  

2. Teach the kids some sentences. Maybe about food?

3. Teach the kids colors. 

4. Play a game where you point to colors and the kids say the correct word. 

5. Teach them some words for body parts. 

6. Play a game about body parts, like the one with the colors. 

7. Teach them some new words. Maybe about sports?

8. Play a game: act out the sport and have the kids guess.

9. Break

10. Repeat the words and sentences from before.

11. Sing the ABCs.

12. Take pictures with students. 

The whole time I'm standing in the middle of this crowd of mystified children. Is it really a foreigner? How will my excitement, confusion, joy, and/or awe about this foreigner be manifested physically or verbally? What should I do with this?

At first they listened and repeated, awe-struck. Then they settled back into the normal habits of childhood: short attention-spans and a need for attention. Those that didn't check out and migrate to the outer edges of the blob of children inched ever so close to me, desperately hoping I'd chose them to be the volunteer in the game. Their earnest looks, coupled with their silent but powerfully inquisitive gazes, made it difficult for me to remain focused. I'd have much rather just stared at their beautiful little faces. 

This was the moment I decided that Chinese children are the most beautiful things I've ever seen. All hyperboles aside, I can't believe how cute this kids are. There's something about a tiny, silent, deep-eyed little Chinese girl staring back at your that makes you believe there is nothing wrong with the world. 

But then the ugly side reared it's head. 

During the break, "questions for the foreigner" gave way to "get a signed piece of paper from the foreigner," which gave way to "crowd around the foreigner in hordes," which gave way to "push and shove and do what it takes to get to the foreigner." I was surrounded by scores of loud children, some of them pulling my arms and shirt, each holding out a piece of paper for me to sign--or that's what I had assumed. I figured they wanted me to write something in English, and so I did initially with noble intent: "Hello! My name is Justin. It's nice to meet you!" To meet the needs of this horde, and because I couldn't possibly write that much legibly while I was being jostled and pulled at, I quickly shortened my words. Sixty-seven children now have a piece of paper that reads: "Hello! Justin." 

Reflecting on this moment, I am a little disappointed. The peaceful, beautiful innocence of their faces and demeanor quickly gave way to a darker side, an uglier side. Shoving, elbowing, and pushing became the method of choice for so many. Where did their softness go? Who were those yelling little kids crowding around me? A lack of civility isn't quite how I'd describe it, but I wonder what else would. Are children even old enough to exhibit civility or the lack thereof? Why did these children so quickly surrender their better selves? Where does one learn this behavior? Is it learned and then it eventually takes over a natural disposition to be gentler? Or are we naturally this rough and only defeat it by learning to live gently instead? 

Maybe I am just saddened that someone so young, someone too young to act like a selfish and cold adult, was exactly that (ah, except for the adult part). But I suppose it doesn't always matter what ugly looks like. Ugly is ugly. 

After the "lesson" finished we knocked out a few pictures of me with the kids (which will probably end up on all their promotional publications or something), I was given the brief tour and said goodbye to the kids. I wouldn't say they were sad to see me go. More like, they were loud to see me go. I just heard lots of yelling. And some renewed attempts to get my autograph...and a few attempts to snag the leftover candy in my pocket I had from the games earlier. 

I don't regret the experience. I did enjoy it and I learned a lot, especially about these types of schools, which are fairly common in China. I'm always looking for insights on the Chinese psyche as well, and this experience was certainly a mind-full. It's amazing what things you can learn when you spend enough time living in a place. Even so, the complexity of the Chinese people and their culture is still such a mystery to me. I find myself constantly asking "why?" Things never make sense. There's even a saying: If it doesn't make sense, you must be in China. You wouldn't believe how often I think of that. 

And despite its grand mysteries, its perplexing attitudes, its mindsets, behaviors, and smells, I can't leave. I won't leave. There is something about this place that keeps me coming back for more. Yes, things are frustrating and annoying and aggravating sometimes, but that's just the way my life is going to be while I live in another country. And for every one of these difficult moments, there are just as many wonderful and amazing moments. Skimming through this post, and through previous posts, I realize that a sometimes cynical, pointed, or snarky tone emerges. (Only sometimes, right?) It may seem that I only write about the crazy, strange, upsetting, frustrating things. I suppose that's true. I don't spend so much time writing about the normal experiences. The experiences that don't paint China as a sometimes nutty and backwards place. I should do a better job, but let's be honest--that doesn't always make for the most interesting or humorous writing. And when you experience the crazy things I do in this country, you have to write about it. It's therapy. 

So I say "Meh" and move on. It's part of living in China. It's part of the adventure. 

Reasons never to hire a car service in China

1. You will probably have a near-death experience.

2. If you don't have a near-death experience, you will come close.

3. Either way, death will be on your mind most of the trip.

I reached these conclusions recently, after experiencing most of the above. Let me tell you the tale.

We (a group of American teachers/friends) were headed to Beijing for the weekend. We'd normally take the train, but due to station renovations, the only two train stations in Qinhuangdao are both closed until next Summer. Nice one, boys. Way to leave the 2.7 million people in our city essentially stranded.

Anyway, we were searching for an alternate way to get to Beijing, since the train (you know, the primary mode of transportation for 99.9% of the city, the easiest way for moving the most people, the best way to get to anywhere from Qinhuangdao...can you tell this absolute lack of planning and foresight is a little frustrating?!) was not a feasible option. We had heard about a car service that could take us to Beijing for about 115 RMB a head--only about 20 RMB more than the train would have cost. Not bad--or so we thought.

The car service, and the cars, were illegal, which is to say they weren't registered, the plates were fake, and they certainly weren't allowed to be charging people for rides. And we should have known. Some of our Chinese friends had warned us the car service we solicited was probably illegal. We weren't exactly sure what this might have meant, but we thought it'd be "fun" to do anyway. It'd be an adventure--the kind of thing we could tell our children someday when they told us they wanted to travel abroad, and we'd be reminded of the days when we were young and adventurous. We'd have time to pen the first draft of the story from our hospital beds. 

And these hospital beds would be full of folks like us since this sort of thing--the illegal car service--is very common in China. Everyone knows these services exist, but no one seems to do anything about it, nor do they seem to care. It's like getting music from your roommate's computer and putting on your own. Tons of people do it, no one seems to care, and there's virtually no one "out there" to stop it. 

So anyway, here we are (the eight of us) hopping in these two cars, moments away from what could only be described as a near-death experience...prolonged over 6 hours. Words cannot describe to you in sufficient detail the conditions of this journey, but let me lay out for you the broad dimensions and I'll let you paint the whole picture for yourself:

1. Traffic laws in China don't really exist. Sure, they exist on paper (I think), but let me ask you: is a law really a law if no one enforces it? That was a leading question. No one enforces anything regarding traffic laws--or at least that's the case for the multiple police cars we just absolutely flew past. But maybe they were busy. One police car was busy littering, another car was busy using his lights/siren (probably) for the sole purpose of going faster than the situation necessitated. I'm convinced that the only laws of Chinese traffic are the laws of physics, which is a nerdy way of saying that the physical limits of gravity, aerodynamics, and thermodynamics are the only forces keeping vehicles from achieving what their operators would hope and dream.  

2. Drivers have various skills.

3. Drivers operate vehicles of various maneuverability, safety, and stability.

4. An unsettlingly high number of drivers will maneuver, without ration or conscience, to the point of the road that they see fit, regardless of anything behind them or to the side of them. Cutting others off frequently is only a natural part of driving.  

5. Higher speed does not equal higher risks. It equals not letting anything in life hold you down.

6. Safety apparently ranks among the following on many drivers' list of worldly concerns: running out of cooking oil, running out of toothpaste, getting a paper cut, oversleeping. 

7. Hired drivers must, must simultaneously do two or more of the following: smoke (what, you think it matters that they have paying customers?); talk on a cell phone; listen to music that can only be described as the strongest known evidence for arguing we live in a broken and completely fallen world; talk to the passengers.  

I'll spare you the details, but I will say that I've now had a near-death experience. Twice. (Don't forget the trip back from Beijing.) Near the end of our trip to Beijing, when my adrenaline had run out and I lost the ability to fear or feel pain, I reached a point of acceptance. Like, hey this isn't so bad...it's kind of like Mario Cart. You can just fly around and it doesn't really matter if you almost hit stuff. It doesn't really matter how crazy things get--as long as you get there as quickly as possible. Watch out for bananas!

On the way to Beijing, our driver did slow down, and even stop, for three reasons: 1. When traffic was at a stand-still for 20 minutes because of an absolutely terrible multiple-vehicle accident that, without any doubt in my mind, killed probably everyone involved (and yes, we saw the completely obliterated vehicles. No, we did not see the people involved, for which I am glad. Seeing those bodies would have emotionally scarred me for life); 2. When we hit the notoriously awful Beijing traffic, which was a large reason why the trip took six hours and not three like it should have; 3. when we went through the toll plazas. Without paying. 

That was kind of fun, I'll admit. Maybe because it gave me something exciting to think about other than death. It's fun to vicariously break the law too. And this wasn't the "slap on the wrist for you! Just pay the 50 cents online within two weeks, no big deal" kind of toll skipping. This was the "we will arrest you if we catch you" kind of skipping. Well, maybe they wouldn't arrest us for skipping the toll, but they surely would have when they discovered the cars and the car service were illegal. Exciting.

Aside from more toll hopping, the trip home was much less eventful...save the last 20 minutes. These last 20 minutes were perhaps the closest to death I've ever felt in my life. You see, we hit some fog. Bad fog. The worst fog I've ever seen in my life. The kind of fog that gives you five feet of visibility. The kind of fog that makes a normal person stop the car and say, "Of course I'm not driving in this!) And of course, we keep on truckin'. At a reduced speed, yes, but truckin' nonetheless. Not to worry though, because our driver had "done this plenty of times before." My chief concern wasn't so much that we'd run off the highway. It was that we'd smash into the back of one of the many trucks in China that have no working tail-lights. (Lights are a luxury, really. An option. They might be useful in some situations (e.g., night), but not all the time. And that's headlights we're talkin'. Tail-lights are really for the straight-and-narrow goody-goodies. The "weak" fellas.) 

Retrospectively, I can recall that my fear at this time progressed through several stages, leaving me with the following thoughts: 1. I might get hurt; 2. I will get hurt--if not physically, then certainly emotionally; 3. No, I will be hurt physically; 4. Actually, I might die; 5. I will die; 6. Somehow, I didn't die.

So we got our adventure. And hey, after therapy, we can learn to laugh about it. Looks like my first visit to a Chinese hospital will have to wait.

Kobe Bryant makes an appearance

It's been a fairly plain week (well, "plain" being relative to China), so I have no news to really share...which means I get to write about more reasons why I love living here.


First, I had some Freshman students show up to class for the first time last week. It's week six. I don't suppose I'll be seeing them much, which is too bad...they chose some ridiculous/great names:

-Kobe Bryant

-Tracy McGrady

-Tarantino

-Answer

I've decided that you'd also enjoy reading about more bizarre food flavors. This week's odd flavoring goes to: milk. Milk flavors you can find in China: "pure", grape (I think it's grape), walnut, hawthorn berry, and date (or that's what I've been told). Yogurt flavors: date, hawthorn berry, plain, and more to be discovered.

Yesterday I saw this written on a coat: "Basketball Mat1onal Team". What strikes me is the complete failure to grasp the fundamental difference between letters and numbers. I can understand mixing letters like "M" and "N", but putting a "1" instead of and "i"? Really? Fail. 


Earlier today I was buying some pens in a little shop. I always wander over the the notebook section of any such shop because the covers of these notebooks are always a goldmine of Chinglish. One notebook had a picture of blue sky containing various puffy clouds, two or three of which were in the shape of happy cartoon whales blowing heart-shaped clouds out of their spouts. Below, the words "Despite your curled sleep, have great dreams." were written. 


Another notebook cover was made to look like a newspaper collage. Four powerful, provocative, inspiring words were written on the front: "Tut's Pills", "Poetry", "Atom Bomb", and "Stocks". Their ultimate relation to one another eludes me, but I'm sure that if I just think a little harder I can realize the powerful message that these four choice words convey. 


The best, by far, were the next two notebooks. They were so amazingly awful in their English I had to buy them so that I could recreate them here. And aside from their lingual flaws, they succinctly represent a slew of Chinese mindsets--typically one of the following: be happy everyday; work hard everyday; work hard and be happy everyday to find success; make friends with foreigners; practice English with foreign friends, and; be successful and happy everyday. 


Here, in their entirety (with preserved spelling, punctuation, and grammar), are the messages these notebooks shared:
"Extensive speaking practor Is Important. Only speaking English, by Do Proction to in speaking English A good command of English in speaking you can studies by.. can you dnow to speak it.speaking to the foreigners. Have a SPEAKING ENGLISH is you want to with a foreigner.speak ENGLISH well. make a practice of speaking to English whenever you have the chance. Everyone can leam to spcak good English through simple repetltion. The more you practice, the better you can speak English SPESKING Lishon"


Notebook two:
"we want to live a happy-go lucky life. Every day should be nice as today! on Promise is yourself to book that a cant see no speaking practor is Important. in speaking English everyoneday to you practise, Everyone can't to spcak good can you dnow to speak it.speaking to the foreigners. English through simple repetltion.leam nothing can disturb your peace of mind.Look at the sunny side of everything and make your optimism come true.Think only of the the ENGLISH everything and make your optimism come true. Think only of the to better work only for the best,and expect on speaking disturb make a practice of everyone yourself that you have no time to criticize others. with a foreigner.speak everything on your side so The more best that is in you!"


Wow. These two are beyond fail. Certain things, like the terrible spelling of words like "repetltion", "dnow", "leam", and "spcak" can almost certainly be chalked up to misreading bad handwriting. I imagine that the one person in charge of writing these, ah, paragraphs was reading the English off a hand-written note he got from, say, a discarded napkin on the bottom of a bus in Tianjin. Think about it. "Spcak" easily is derived from a poorly/sloppily written "speak". I know my "Es" sometimes look like a "C". And of course, the "rn" in "learn" can easily become an "m" in "leam", so we see how this happens. But as for the sentence structure, I have no idea. None. I suppose the fact that these two notebooks had the "paragraphs" crammed into the shape of a heart on one and a spade on the other (as in hearts, diamonds, clubs, spades) explains the jumbled nature. But still. 


And one final piece: a video, from my Friday morning class. Their major is Home Service. I guess that's supposed to mean they'll be nannies, maids, or housekeepers, but in reality it means nothing. They'll be no more prepared for "home service" than I was when I was seven and I had been taught to vacuum the TV room.  That's definitely not a knock on their skills, not at all. It's a complete knock on the school. This is not an academically good school. I know it. The students know it. We all know it. These students learn nothing--at least in this major. When I say nothing, I mean real-world skills. Skills that will actually help them succeed when they leave this place. Skills that will not leave them disillusioned, frustrated, and depressed when the "to be happy everyday, work hard and succeed" method fails. Because it probably will in their context. 


This is an incredible source of sadness and frustration for me. I am sad and frustrated for these students. I don't want to be fatalistic, but these dear students are, most likely, headed toward a very difficult, agonizing post-college adjustment--and they know it. Many of my students have lamented to me about their perceived lack of skills and the fear they have for their imminent plunge into Chinese society. I hear the sense of loss and worry they carry. What a burden, especially since many of them also have the responsibility of caring for family members who either sacrificed a lot so my student could attend college, or are unable to care for themselves financially. And what can I do? They are at the hands of a poor undergraduate educational philosophy--if you can even call it that. A philosophy is usually something you've intentionally thought out. I can't be so sure the administrators at this school have ever done that. 


More on that later.


None of the students even like this "Home Service" major either. And why is this even a major? How can something like this actually be a major? And it takes three years! And when they graduate, most of them are not going to be in the "home service" field by choice, if at all. Most likely, they did not choose this major. Most of them were placed there. 


Again, more on that later. 


Before I veer too far off course and land both of us in a cavern of depression, justified anger, and empathetic woes, here's the video:

They make me laugh, and I need it sometimes. This video was (secretly) taken during the ten-minute break that is nestled between the two 50-minute sections of class. I love watching students interact with each other--they are such a funny group, Chinese college students. My candid filming was an attempt to capture them in their true form...which didn't change too much once they were discovered. The students with the pencils were practicing the "rubber pencil" trick I had shown them earlier. When I first showed them, most were taken in by it. They bought it. I though for sure they would have known this trick--but no. I had a good laugh when one of the students tried, to sluggish success, to figure out how I made the hard pencil "become" so rubbery. Within a minute I had almost all of them practicing the trick themselves. 


OK, so here's another video because I can't help it--you need this. Again, I surprised my students by not mentioning to them that I had planned to record them. Their reaction is priceless:

Moments like those bring me joy. Sure, I want to yell and scream sometimes because, well, because sometimes there are things to be upset about. But there's still time to be happy. (I feel like that should be on a shirt somewhere here in China.) It's the little things that keep you going sometimes. 

On popsicles and potato chips

China was made for my amusement. I don't necessarily mean that in a possessive way, like I'm so special that China was made specifically for me. Rather, I mean a person who appreciates the hilarious cultural miscues and oddities that arise from this country would be right at home. A day will not pass without some hilarious encounter, as China has a never-ending supply of things to laugh about. Sometimes it's the Chinglish I encounter. Other times, it's the odd products/flavors/brand names/foods/etc. that I encounter. And then there's always the Chinese people with their particular behaviors and curiosities that I encounter. Capturing the multitudes of amusing things is all but impossible, but I've at least broken down the general categories. And since I'm particularly fond of lists, I'll do another list. 

1. Chinglish

Perhaps it's bad grammar. Or maybe poor spelling. Or maybe it's just plain incomprehensible. You've seen the signs and advertisements I've posted pictures of, but this is just a fraction--a tenth of a tenth of a percent--of what I see. Generally, the Chinglish is found primarily within three major areas: clothing and accessories, signs, and food labels/other product packaging.

Clothing is always exciting because that's usually where the best Chinglish is. The words on shirts, bags, and other items generally revolve around the topics of love, being happy everyday, or some combination of the two. There's still room for creativity, though. Creativity, or oblivious mistakes--sometimes it's hard to tell. At any rate, here are a few gems I've seen:

-A shirt with an American flag on it and the letters "U.S.N."

-A sweater with "Colifornia" on the sleeve

-A shirt proclaiming "Better late than ever."
-A shirt with a picture of a woman next to the words "Donald Duck." Below this, the declaration "Walt Dishey is dead."

And there are always shirts with spelling fails. Many of them. A typical shirt in this category might read something like, "Love is arnndle."

Recently, I saw a bag belonging to a student of mine. As I studied it sitting on her desk, I noticed it had a world map. From experience, I knew there would be errors and set out immediately to find them. I've found that maps of this kind (ones found on bags, shirts, packaging, etc.) are, without exception, filled with geographical and/or spelling mistakes. Maybe Africa will be shaped like a lop-sided waffle. Or South America will be equivalent in size to Australia. Mexico more closely resembles a wedge. Those kinds of things. This particular map had spelling errors. Not just small errors, though. Egregious ones. To the best of my recollection: New York was spelled "Riv York." Chicago was "chdicago." Houston was "hjiastoun," Washington, D.C. was "wxington," and San Francisco was "sanfcrisco." 

Amusing.

Many clothing items may be correct in their English, but they are still odd. The chosen phrases, sentences, and words are especially mysterious and amusing. Some examples:

-A shirt saying "Let's make out."

-A shirt saying "Talk nerdy to me." 

I will admit that last one was clever. 


Other shirts are beyond comprehension. The words may be spelled correctly, but the particular words chosen have nothing in common and their order is baffling. These shirts are so inscrutable that I can't even come close to remembering what any of the ones I've seen have said. But to give you an idea:
"Most excellent outdoor" above a picture of a camel, and the words "attraction desert for mobile accomplishment" written below. 


Or maybe this: 
"Success finds you happy for the go go," written above the equally enigmatic phrase "ultra future success divisions." 

Mostly, it seems that the popular demand for clothing with English on it is the culprit. Since it is a mark of style, apparently, to have clothing with "English" on it, numerous producers have churned out various items to meet the demand. Never mind most of it is way off--but I don't mind, and I know the Chinese don't (because they probably don't know the difference). I love seeing the interesting things the shirts have to say. Plus, it's always a good reminder to know that love really is arnndle.

Food labels and other products are always a good source of humor too. A short stroll through the local store will yield such products as crain of corn, peeled of tomato, and "bread flavored" bread. My favorite brand would have to be Bimbo-they make breads and other pastries. 

And of course, there are plenty of signs boasting proud but oblivious mistakes. Check here for a whole site filled with more.

2. Foods   

More specifically, types of foods and their various flavors. Being a completely different culture, there are going to be some different foods that people eat. I get that. I can go to the store and get my chicken feet, my beef-flavored candy, or my spicy duck neck (also available in spicy duck foot, spicy duck tongue, and spicy duck wing). What's amusing to me, though, are the foods that we find in the U.S., but with different flavors. Strange flavors. For instance, I can get a popsicle. "Great!" you say. Wrong. There is no chocolate, cherry, orange, grape, root beer, or even vanilla. Nothing like that, no. I can get pea, corn, or egg flavors though. Plenty of those. 

But maybe popsicles aren't your thing. Stroll over to the potato chip aisle, where you can find Lays chips in a variety of flavors: Lime, Blueberry, or Cucumber (described as "Cool and refreshing"), among others. Or get some Oreos. Ice cream flavor? Sure, why not? How about "green tea ice cream" flavored Oreos? (They're right next to the mellon flavored fruit-by-the-foot.) You get the idea. I've enjoyed trying new flavors (the blueberry potato chips were decent), but I'm not sure I can handle living in a world where there are no fruit-flavored popsicles. Although, the orange chocolate Chips Ahoy! cookies were delicious. I guess that is redemptive. Close call, China. I almost had to give up on you. 

3. Curious crowds

This is perhaps my favorite characteristic of the Chinese: their insatiable curiosity. I've noticed that if I ever stay in one spot for too long, a crowd gathers; I cause scenes. One on side, I feel a bit honored/awesome that my mere presence is enough to attract the attention of passers-by. On the other side, everyone is always watching you. Always. And it's not like I'm especially fascinating because of my personality or anything. It's because I'm a foreigner. A tall foreigner. A tall foreigner who sometimes does "strange" (i.e. normal for an American) things. 

And I see you watching me, silent old man on the bike. I see you. 

But that will not deter him. That will not deter anyone. It's like Field of Dreams, except that "If you build it, he will come," is more like "If you stay, they will gather." And I've gotten used to the fact that my attempts to speak Chinese with another for an extended period of time will yield a small crowd. A crowd that encircles you, silently. 

And they just watch and listen. Silently. They never say a word. They just watch. 

The freshmen at my school are particularly adept at this--the crowding and silent staring. There will often be outside events occurring where many students will gather, so I always like to check out what crazy things are happening (crazy meaning "why would people do this? Is this normal?"), and I like to see if my students are in the bunch. Invariably, I'll find some and start chatting with them. Then others will notice. I'll look to my left and see two others standing there, watching. Just watching. I'll continue my chatting, and more will gather. I hear a giggle and turn around. There are four more students, standing and watching. I am encircled by silent, staring students. They will respond (usually with significant giggling) if I ask them anything or say hello, but they will otherwise remain silent. They won't say a word unless I engage first. 

And they're always in pairs. Always. 

And then one will ask if she can have a picture, at which point the dam bursts. I am inundated with picture requests. I can only assume there are hundreds of pictures of me floating around out there. Maybe they can show some to their parents. "Mom, look! A foreigner!"

I love it though, and I will admit that I enjoy "inciting scenes" when I can--it's just so easy, and there's really nothing more endearing than when you find yourself encased in a circle of freshman students who have succumbed to their curiosity and crowded around you. 

Yes, I am a real foreigner. You're looking at a real foreigner.