V

From the outside looking in, I suppose the way I look is the most obvious thing about being foreign; that I am most obviously foreign to others here in China. People will stare at me when I walk down the street, ride the bus, walk around a grocery store, and generally, in whatever it is I do. Some folks will stare boldly, non-stop, and when I look back at them they keep starting. I wonder if they are being confrontational, rude, oblivious, amazed, or some combination therein. Some folks look more slyly from the corners of their eyes and when I look back they stop. Once on my way to work I was stopped on my bike at an intersection next to a man on a scooter. He looked at me, and I looked back at him. Usually this prompts the person to stop provided I hold my gaze for a few seconds, but this man would not look away. After a long four seconds I spoke: 你好 (Nǐ hǎo), hello, and he looked away. I don't know what he was thinking or what he wanted. On Friday I went to dinner with a few co-workers, and a few of the folks who worked there took pictures of us. This is not unusual. I like to think it doesn't bother me much, but I am somewhat oblivious to it when walking down the street or riding the bus. It's possible that this obliviousness is a defense mechanism: people may be looking at me but I don't want to look at them. This is some combination of shyness, or willful ignorance. I'd rather look out the window, or read a book, or scroll through my phone.

For now I'm still enjoying the novelty of being novel, and rarely has this attention been hostile or confrontational. On Saturday I went to play basketball at a private gym with one of my co-workers. I don't know if I attract extra attention on the basketball court because I am foreign, or if it is because I am taller and/or heavier than most of the other players. Of course its both, but part of me wants to think that the player guarding me takes special delight in blocking the foreigner's shot or shooting over his outstretched hands. Then again, back in the States, I would think the same thing playing in Indiana, though instead of being foreign it was being older that made me paranoid and alienated. There are a million ways to other each other, and I am certainly capable of making the smallest distinctions in search of injustice. Regardless, the other people at the gym were generally friendly, though for a while there was a group of mid-20 something dudes that were really good and really arrogant. They laughed and chatted while they tore through the competition as well as any group of fraternity brothers I encountered in Indiana. There are bros everywhere in the world, including China. In this instance, maybe a few of them took special joy in showing up the foreigner, but they seemed to enjoy showing up everyone they faced.

One area where it's more problematic being foreign is in language.  The other day at my universities little cafe, I ordered some tea but forgot to pay. As I took my tea and turned away the cashier called me back, saying something I could not completely understand, but understood well enough to know that I had forgotten to pay. The man in line behind me, not a student or faculty or staff at my university, a man who was probably there for a conference being hosted on the campus, said to the cashier that I did not understand. The cashier then said to the man, yes, he doesn't understand. Flustered, I said to them both, "听不懂" (tīng bù dǒng). This was not what I should of said, since 听不懂 means "I do not understand." What I should have said, and what I meant to say was "我明白" (Wǒ míngbái), "I understand." Alas. In that moment I got it wrong. I hope that at least they were confused as to what I meant, since I tried to say it defiantly. Or back at the gym, I asked the clerk at the desk for water in Mandarin, and my co-worker quickly translated for me without giving the clerk the opportunity to make sense of what I had just said. Yes my pronunciation is a work in progress, but what I've noticed is that many attempts to speak Chinese sometimes go unrecognized. My foreign accent, plus my anxiety inducing presence will seemingly, for some, preclude the possibility of generously listening; a presumption that I do not speak the language.