I heard a lecture recently about how dangerous it is only to tell a single story of anything, because one story cannot offer a faithful picture of any situation. Moreover, instead of teaching and expanding the listeners’ view, a single story might end up generating more stereotypes and prejudices. Thus a story teller’s obligation would probably be to tell as many stories as possible, whereas listeners should keep in mind that an infinite number of unheard stories are left out. Take the People’s Republic of China for example. What is it like? How are the people? These are a few of the numerous questions that I, a European student who studied there for a year, often hadto answer. Giving the right answer isn’t the easiest thing to do. Whenever someone insisted upon getting a short description of China, I would prefer a one-word answer. Different. To me it was so different from everything I had seen and experienced before. I heard a lecture recently about how dangerous it is only to tell a single story of anything, because one story cannot offer a faithful picture of any situation. Moreover, instead of teaching and expanding the listeners’ view, a single story might end up generating more stereotypes and prejudices. Thus a story teller’s obligation would probably be to tell as many stories as possible, whereas listeners should keep in mind that an infinite number of unheard stories are left out. Take the People’s Republic of China for example. What is it like? How are the people? These are a few of the numerous questions that I, a European student who studied there for a year, often hadto answer. Giving the right answer isn’t the easiest thing to do. Whenever someone insisted upon getting a short description of China, I would prefer a one-word answer. Different. To me it was so different from everything I had seen and experienced before. A few years ago I was offered the possibility to spend a year in Jilin, a faraway and cold Manchurian province. I went there to learn the language, but I ended up learning something much more valuable than that. I learned how to experience and accept diversity: their crowded restaurants; their food; the rotating table on which food is served; their rice wine and how they drink it. For instance, in northern China I was told that you have to invite others first and you must reach an agreement on the amount you are about to drink.
The writing system is also different, because there are at least 3000 characters that one needs to learn to be able to read the newspaper. As a tonal language it is also very different from Western languages. Logic, the colors boys and girls like to wear, the expensive facial whitening powders girls yearn for, Chinese hairstyles and fashions, the famous Chinese smile with all its subtle meanings, and the way lovers behave in public are all different. Lovers rarely hold hands and kissing in public is seen as weird. Even in a casual relationship, I was told that a man is never supposed to be too kind to a woman he does not know, because his politeness could be easily misunderstood. Take smoking for example, men in China do not need to get women’s approval if they want to smoke, because that might count as being too provocative. In Chinese culture hello and goodbye are words rarely used among friends. I was lucky enough to live with a Chinese family for a year, and I never heard anyone in my family actually saying “hello” or "goodbye” when coming in or leaving the house. I spent Chinese New Year with them and learned to roll Chinese dumplings, and I also learned to leave behind my concepts of good manners. You can tell a Chinese person how much you like his food a dozen times, but he/she won’t believe you until you chew your food with your mouth open, loudly enough so that everyone in the room can hear you. This meant more to my Chinese family than a thousand words of praise. To my astonishment, I discovered that chewing noisily not only made my family happier, but it also made me happier because the food tasted better. I tried dog-meat, snake, sea-cucumber, frog, rat, and silkworm. Strange Food became one of my most revered teachers, because it taught me that the reason I liked the food I ate was not necessarily because it was delicious, but because it was what I had gotten used to. One day I enjoyed a big but tasteless lunch in a fancy five-star restaurant, and on the same day I ate a tasty dinner at a tiny food stall. But I also knew that I could not ignore the setting I was in. I knew I had to look around and scan every corner of the place, and I couldn’t miss the big cockroach running over the wall next to my table. I suddenly stopped chewing. I waited for the final impression I was going to end this dinner with, because I had two choices. Either to compare this place with the immaculate kitchens of my wealthy friends, then stand up and have a fierce argument with the owner. I chose plan B instead, which was to force myself to think of the adventures of Robinson Crusoe, helping me to forget the cockroach and the black fingernails of the cook, thus happily finishing my dinner. The result was that I discovered that I had to go to the end of the world to an almost meaningless, hole-in-the-wall restaurant to re-discover my limits and to realize that not even the brightest detergent would ever turn human surroundings into germfree spaces. When in China learn to spit and blow your nose the way they do. Notice that the idea of noise pollution is virtually unknown. Notice, too, the beautiful petite Chinese girls with their rich black hair and porcelain skin, looking like dolls. Look at people’s clothing and discover that in China even the rules of color combination are turned upside down. See how boys faithfully carry their girlfriends’ purses and discover a matriarchal society at work. Also, try using a public toilet that is just a row of holes in the floor separated by nothing at all. I remember my first time I was shocked. I was unsure whether to enter or not, but I needed to pee and nobody else was there. I headed to the last hole, which seemed a little bit more private, because it was furthest away from the entrance. I quickly squatted down, hoping that despite the fact that I was in one of the most crowded countries on earth, nobody would come in. Then the door opened and a girl came in, taking a quick glance at me and heading to the toilet hole right next to mine. I timidly looked at the sink in front of me. My attempt to pee became even more difficult. I was squatting there for what seemed to be an eternity, but nothing happened. Suddenly, in a moment of inspiration, I relaxed my mind and my body, and suddenly it worked! It occurred to me that I was taught one more lesson. I learned how to get rid of myself, my ego, my shame, and everything I thought I was or I wasn’t. This felt wonderful. I learned that not only there were no walls between the toilet holes, but during those seconds there were no boundaries between our cultures either. After all, everyone uses a toilet for the same purpose! a
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The Taida Student Journal has been active since 1995 with an ever-changing roster of student journalists at NTU. Click the above link to read about the authors Archives
May 2024
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