emergency?

My mom had a serious asthma attack when we were living in Beijing. The taxi driver didn't seem to understand the problem with his smoking in the car on our way to the hospital. Still, taking a taxi was probably faster than calling an ambulance would have been.
I remember reading some article in the States saying that ambulances don't actually get to the scene of an emergency much faster than if they were to drive at the same speed as the rest of traffic. Whether or not that's true, I wouldn't be surprised if the traffic here in Shanghai beat ambulances to the accident every time. You know how in the US you're supposed to pull over to the right when you hear the sirens and see the flashing lights? Well, not only do drivers not do that here, but they actually pull in front of an ambulance if there's any room to be had. The ambulance drivers don't seem to mind too much; they use their horns half as often as the taxi drivers trying to squeeze them out do. I only hope they feel a little more urgency when somebody's dying in the back of their van.

never judge a book by its cover

A couple Caucasian friends were telling me the other day that they sometimes speak in English about the people around them because they don't expect to be understood. So they'll laugh about the taxi driver's singing while riding in the cab or comment about the clothes of the person walking two feet in front of them. I mentioned that that wouldn't go over very well if they were around somebody like me who looks Chinese but speaks native English and would probably make some brusque, sarcastic comment in English to bust their cover.
Turns out, I had quite the opposite experience in a cab this morning. I was running late and was having difficulty grabbing a taxi to get me to work on time. Next to me, I saw a man look urgently down the street, mutter "Scheiße" to somebody near him, and then walk off. Apparently the German was having just as little luck finding a cab.
A few minutes later, I managed to hail one down. As we passed the corner, I saw the German guy standing with two other European men, all trying to hail down my taxi. The taxi driver laughingly waved them away and then turned to me.
"San ge lao wai. Yi ge de guo ren, yi ge fa guo ren, yi ge yi da li ren." Three 'old foreigners'. One German, one Frenchman, and one Italian. (How could he tell?) "To us, they all look pretty much the same," the taxi driver quipped, "And to them, so do we! A lot of foreigners are moving to Shanghai now. Yes, now they like to live here, and they always say, 'Your country is so cheap!'" He slapped his knee in amusement, and I grinned from the backseat. I didn't want to embarrass him, so I was silent for the rest of the trip - lest he recognize my accent and realize that I was a "lao wai", too.

speaking of the weather

I have been under it going on nearly a week now. Chills and a sore throat on and off. Today I felt so weak that I had trouble opening my chocolate jar - my chocolate jar! - to provide myself some comfort. I made tea, but the temporary warmth only made me feel colder. I have dirty dishes in the sink because the idea of water on my hands makes me shiver more. I even tried to sleep off the chills, but who can sleep at 4 in the afternoon? So instead, after a royal waste of a Sunday afternoon in Shanghai, I'm sitting here shivering under three layers of clothing and a blanket, explaining why you might be hearing more from me if I'm forced to stay home from work tomorrow.

a comment on the weather

I had a lazy morning today and spent much of it reading in bed under the warm covers. Luckily I got up to check my email; otherwise, I'd never have noticed the snow falling outside my window. It was barely snow, just a fine mist with a hint of white, but I realized it must have been falling for quite some time. The handlebars and seats of the parked bicycles were caked, and the parked cars had a layer of frosting, too.
By the time I made my way out the door, it had all already melted, and the only evidence was the wet ground. Anybody who spent more time reading in bed than I did would never have known that it had snowed.
This is the second time I've seen snow in the month that I've been here. And they said it never snows in Shanghai.
It's supposed to be 64 degrees on Tuesday. These unpredictable, drastic changes remind me of Texas weather.

on generosity

Almost everywhere I've traveled, I've been struck by the generosity of the people in that country. In the US, even in the south, where we are known for our 'southern hospitality', I can remember few times where I have felt so overwhelmed by such kindness. The willingness, even eagerness, to give and share is, or at least seems, much more common and widespread in other countries. Is it a cultural thing? Is it that Americans are generous in different ways? Or is it that I'm simply not observant enough of generous deeds in my own country?

Other countries have long-standing traditions dictating generous behavior. Sometimes it's a matter of etiquette; other times it's a matter of saving face. Maybe America is too young for such traditions, and therefore generosity is seen only as giving more than what the person standing next to you would give. In AIESEC, we welcomed so many friends into our country and our city. But looking back, I wonder if the welcome was ever all that warm. Often the extent of our hospitality was taking someone out for a drink or a meal, offering a phone number to call "if you need anything at all", and then going back to our own lives because, of course, the guest wouldn't impose to ask where he could buy hallal meat, or how he could get to the grocery store, or even how to buy a cell phone so he could call us for a ride. So maybe it's a cultural thing.

But that's too harsh, right? Some people are more generous than others in any country, and Americans can be generous, too. Thousands of Americans welcome exchange students into their home, treating them as one of the family if not even the 'favorite child'. Non-profits provide invaluable support and education to immigrants. For decades, members of the Peace Corps have devoted themselves to the betterment of developing nations. So maybe Americans are just generous in different ways.

It could also be that I don't pay as much attention in the US to acts of generosity, or I don't appreciate those kindnesses the same way I do in an unfamiliar place. Perhaps generosity abroad is more noticeable because we don't expect strangers in our own town to be so kind, let alone strangers in another country with a different language or religion or culture.

---~---~---

I drafted the above discourse and then happened to discuss the same topic with a friend this evening. She is from China but has visited the United States for work. She refuted my observation that Americans are not as generous as people in other countries; in fact, she said that she has found more generosity in Americans than in her fellow Chinese citizens. We came to the conclusion that you can often tell just by looking at a person that they "don't belong", and people naturally tend to be more hospitable to outsiders. So an American will be just as friendly to a visiting Chinese as a Chinese will be to a visiting American. I guess the conclusion is therefore two-fold: 1) it is best to be a stranger, and 2) goodness transcends all borders.

immersion

I look up from my rice bowl and take a glance around the table. Everybody's deeply engaged in conversation. In twos and threes, they question, respond, throw their heads back in laughter, or shake their heads in mock dismay. They're talking about a book, or something that happened over the New Year, or maybe the restaurant's lack of service. They make fun of who gets stuck ordering for everybody else, who eats the most rice, who can't eat spicy.
I hear a voice next to me - "...mei guo...?" America. She must be talking to me. "In America, is Qing Ren Jie fun?"
"Qing Ren Jie? What's that? Oh, Valentine's Day?"
I understand the question and open my mouth to speak - and then nothing. I manage to mumble, "Bu hao wan." No, it's not fun.
And that's it. That's all I have the vocabulary to say.
I want to say that I think it's a purely materialistic holiday, one in which the more you spend, the more you love - supposedly. I want to say that I dislike it as I dislike all days in which you're supposed to love more, be a better person, receive more, be showered with affection, or sacrifice to appreciate, just because it happens to be a certain day of a certain month. But I don't know how to say any of that, so I settle with, "No, it's not fun."
From across the table, somebody says, "Mei you qing ren, jiu bu hao wan, dui bu dui?" If you don't have a valentine, then it's not fun, right?
I laugh and nod - and I still have nothing else to offer. The table is silent for a few seconds, and uncomfortably I shovel more rice into my mouth.
I eat so I can't look at them with a puzzled look on my face, so they won't stop talking to translate for me - as I know they kindly will. I don't want them to speak in English. Immersion is the only way I'll learn, so I tell them to use Chinese. But how do you learn when you don't understand?
Conversations fly across the table. By the tone of his voice, I can tell he's being sarcastic, witty. A trace of a smile is on his lips, so instinctively, as everybody else laughs, I smile, too. I have no idea what he just said, but it must have been funny. Haha.
She speaks to me in English, and suddenly I'm relieved. I make a joke. They all laugh. See, I can be funny, too! I do have more substance to me, really! But, wait, I won't learn anything this way. Please, speak Chinese. And I'll go back to eating my rice.