Seeing China through the eyes of travelers brought me back to my early days in this country. I remember some of those first experiences, struggling to understand, and sometimes running to Mike in a fit of anxiety and impending cross-cultural meltdown. But I also saw how far I had come - in every respect. I would use the more trite, "I could see how much I'd grown," but I'm not sure if enduring qualifies as growth. The experience of China has been one where I relegate certain things to the far corners of my mind. When experiences are no longer new, they are forgotten and I move on. One might say that this is called integrating, but I think it's more like becoming accustomed to the environment. In any case, it was a joy to have visitors (as always). It's nice to have rational conversations over 50 words per minute, especially when those people are kind, laid-back, and very gracious.
China Peace Corps Volunteer Dustin Ooley writes: Visitors
Visitors
This weekend Mike Levy visited with his friends, a married couple named Dave and Emily. Mike was our Peace Corps Pre-service Trainer in Chengdu who offered us real advice that helped to make our lives easier - the kind that's not listed in any Peace Corps manuals. It was he who whispered truth when we so desperately needed it. He helped us through struggles with culture, teaching and language. Mike was our counselor - a guide in a country which often seemed like a wasteland of spare pig parts, children urinating on the sidewalk, incessant gawking by curious locals, and other standard China surprises.
We got on a bus toward the city center, and Mike asked Dave and Emily if it was overwhelming. I asked, naively, "Is what overwhelming?" I was curious. Maybe he meant the crowded bus, or maybe he was referring to the staring. Perhaps the strangeness of the buildings or some other unique aspect of China was bothering them. "Everything," Dave responded. It was then I realized two things: Just how much I don't see anymore, and how good Mike is at bridging the gap between China volunteer and American tourist (he was a China 11, returning to America 2 years ago); Mike has now experienced China and America post-China. For the rest of their stay, I had the opportunity to see China through their eyes.
Dave is a writer. He writes. As such, he also asks lots of questions. Factual questions. "How many people live in Anshun?" he asks me.
"Somewhere between 300,000 and 1 million," I respond confidently. In China, this kind of vague answer is about as close as anyone is going to get to an accurate count.
The rest of my answers ended in a rising tone, making them sound like I was responding with questions. Perhaps that was my strategy all along - use the Socractic method to get him thinking. Or I just didn't know the answers. Hey, I just live here.
To kick off their first night in Anshun, Guizhou P.R.China, I decided to take them to the best roast fish in town - the Anshun-famous kaoyu - a delicate carp fished live from a tank by my left hand and consigned to the flames before being mixed with an array of vegetables in an oily, spicy, decadent $9 meal (depending on the size of the fish, of course). I have had this in other cities in China, but it just doesn't compare to the kaoyu of our Anshun.
We headed over to the DVD store after dinner and Dave's eyes lit up. He kept whispering, "These are all illegal," as if he were waiting for me to confirm this fact and do so without anyone overhearing us (nobody in the store speaks English). There was a moment during his excitement that suddenly revealed how little I cared for pirated DVDs these days; one can get anything on the Internet for free. This moment came somewhere between two things Dave said that I will never forget: "They have the Rambo?!" and "Wait...this movie is still in theaters!"
When we got back to my apartment, Mike came back from the bathroom and announced, "You don't have water." My first reaction was simple, "Oh, ok." I wasn't bothered by this. It happens.
Suddenly I realized I had guests and I apologized profusely. I sprang into what can only be described as, "Peace Corps Action Mode," or PCAM. Using survival techniques taught only to Peace Corps Volunteers, I suggested a raid on Bethany's (my site-mate) kitchen. We gathered empty bottles from the recycling boxes and made our way across campus. "It's like camping," I said to try and keep the mood positive.
A brief note on Bethany's home: Before I jump into the rest of this mini-adventure, let me explain Bethany's living situation. Her apartment is separate from both her kitchen and her bathroom. This means that she has to go outside in order to get to either place. It also makes her bathroom almost the same as the outhouse she used when living in the countryside where she grew up, and her kitchen is more prone to infestation by various pests. I will not include Wikipedia links for them all.
And so we entered Bethany's kitchen - a den once home to a rat bigger than most small dogs; this story is long and ends with a mysterious and quite spontaneous rat death that I will not relate here (I've already discussed one rat death in Tibet). It is a place which she has recently surrendered to the roaches. Luckily she has water, so we begin to fill the various containers with precious toilet-flushing water. Dave spots a cockroach and points at it on the counter next to me. It's like I have a split personality; my face belies no emotion - it is completely relaxed while my left hand uses an empty water bottle to attack the cockroach with frenetic intensity, killing it after only 15 direct hits. She's got some bad roaches in there. But they've got nothing on the roaches in Israel which, according to Mike, "Can fly," and, "Will not be crushed if you put the weight of your entire body on them."
Seeing China through the eyes of travelers brought me back to my early days in this country. I remember some of those first experiences, struggling to understand, and sometimes running to Mike in a fit of anxiety and impending cross-cultural meltdown. But I also saw how far I had come - in every respect. I would use the more trite, "I could see how much I'd grown," but I'm not sure if enduring qualifies as growth.
The experience of China has been one where I relegate certain things to the far corners of my mind. When experiences are no longer new, they are forgotten and I move on. One might say that this is called integrating, but I think it's more like becoming accustomed to the environment.
In any case, it was a joy to have visitors (as always). It's nice to have rational conversations over 50 words per minute, especially when those people are kind, laid-back, and very gracious.
Posted by at June 26, 2009 10:42 a.m.
