I've had four encounters with hosting and being hosted since getting to China. There was a language exchange date, a dinner with the landlord, Couchsurfing, and yet another dinner with the landlord.
My first encounter with hospitality was unexpected. One of my first friends in China, Alice, came to my apartment for language exchange at 1:30 in the afternoon. Each of us followed our own customs, as could be expected...
When I invite other 20-something friends over, my main concern is to clean and avoid looking, as my partner calls it, like I live like a heathen. So that day, I scrubbed and mopped 'til the whole place shined and smelled of lemons. When she called, I greeted her in a tank top and shorts, comfy and casual as most friends are at home when they host one another, if we are even so formal as to call it "hosting". Alice, who is always strikingly beautiful, was dressed in her Sunday best, looking like she walked out of a fashion magazine. Her hair, which the school normally requires to be pulled up, was straightened, let down, and beautiful. She had a flowy, tuled skirt on and shoes fit for a prom. When we got to the door, she asked if I would like her to put on my flip flops, motioning to our bookcase. I said, "Ah it's okay, you can leave shoes off if you want. Wait! Is it normal for me to offer shoes when guests arrive?" Alice, saving face for me, replied, "No problem, barefoot is also normal." I sighed with relief until a large gift bag emerged from underneath her arm. Mid-Autumn Festival was here, and she brought me moon cakes! One by one, we took them out of the ornate box and set them in the fridge. Then, she brought out mango and lychee mousse. She said, "I know you can't eat wheat so I brought you these." She knew my secret! My caring hubby told her of my gluten intolerance when I was trying to stay low maintenance, given how hard it is for most people to understand veganism and a life-threatening shellfish allergy. What a wonderful soul she was... And me, well, I felt badly for not preparing a feast and researching host traditions. I later found out that invitations to one's home are rarely given, and it is extremely insulting not to attend, unless you have a very good reason. I also found out about gift-giving, bringing tea to guests, serving appetizers, and gambei... All I could do then, in the moment, was improvisation. I offered to make Spanish tortilla, a surprisingly easy recipe for my stovetop-only kitchen. She wanted to learn, and as I gathered ingredients, I realized I had no potatoes... Fail. So we sat down, and I thought it would be entertaining to bring out the book Niubi, a collection of Chinese slang that I purchased stateside. She thumbed through it, a bright flush of red coming into her cheeks as she read. "Don't say this. Never say that. Oh, that is so bad. Where you get this book?"
I explained, sheepishly, that we thought it was funny to learn the swears and how in many countries, those are the first words people teach us, because it's humorous to hear a foreigner say them. She replied, nodding her head, "Oh, I see, so you can use this to know what not to say if a Chinese tells you these." I was so glad I hadn't given her a copy of Cosmo, which I thought beforehand might be interesting to her...
The exchange was fun. We laughed and she listened intently as I mostly helped with her English, feeling terribly for my ignorance in being a good host here. We then covered pinyin for ten, painful minutes. It seems to be my destiny to have a terrible ear for Chinese, after taking such pride in my ability to pick up Spanish. It has always been one thing I've been really good at, thinking, perhaps it was a gift for language. The pronunciation, the vocabulary, the grammar... It's all come easily to me once I had the fundamentals. It is musical to hear and soothing to speak. Chinese is actually quite beautiful here, as well, despite its reputation as an angry language. We must have heard other regional dialects in the States. Despite the beauty, I find it nearly impossible to distinguish the words. I can speak approximately ten words (I said speak, not spell, so bear with the phonics):
Mayo- no
Buyo- I don't want
Jiga/niga- this/that
Xiexie- thank you
Aye-oh- OMG / oh crap / you're ripping me off! I just stubbed my toe!
Due (dway)- yes
Mei guo (ren)- America (foreigner)
Engwen- England / English language
Wo ting bu dong- I don't understand (my most often used phrase, often in conjunction with pointing to myself and saying, "Engwen, Engwen, I'm sorry, do you speak English?" To which, they reply, "Little bit," to which, I reply, "Oh, awesome, do you sell shampoo?" (rubbing my own head). They reply, invariably, by bringing lice remover or hairbrushes... Ting bu dong. I haul out the handy dandy Apple app to translate for us, resigned to the fact that I will never be a good Chinese speaker or Charades player.
Update: These words are terribly misspelled. But it gives you an idea of what it's like to learn a language completely verbally.
After a good hour and a half, Alice leaves and I thank her profusely for the mooncakes, which must have cost a fortune. She is generous with compliments and so, so nice. To the extent that I wonder, will I be okay being my casual self around Chinese girlfriends?
Enter Onkei.
Not wanting to be a bad guest, I arrived to my first Couchsurfing experience in the conservative dress above. We were going to temples, I thought...
It started at 4:00, Friday night, on the eve of a huge Chinese holiday in which everyone gets a week off. Nervously, I dialed Onkei's number in the bus stop, hoping she would pick up and let the operator know what tickets we needed to purchase. She answered, down-to-business and matter-of-factly in her replies. Ah, a serious one, I thought. Little did I know...
The bus whirled around pastoral landscapes of terraced rice fields and small factory towns. The sky began to show in all its blue glory, no smog photoshopping needed (confession: I may have manipulated some GZ pics on Facebook)... As dusk set in and we began to enjoy the stars for the first time in weeks, we finally pulled in to Onkei's village. Whatever seriousness I thought I sensed before, dissipated as we hitchhiked our way to the "hot springs" of Yunfu.
As I complete this blog, I have a confession: I struggled as to whether I should post raw reflections on what has become a very close friendship. I will just finish up here by telling you that my temple dress had to serve as my dancing dress, I wore shorts and was viewed as modest at the temple the next day, and I had some of the most amazing cultural exchanges of my life during that trip. Onkei came out to Guangzhou to surf with us, which was a fun day of exploring the city, along with more dancing. I later took a good friend to surf her couch once more, and we attended a Chinese wedding. It was amazing. I'm now constantly scheming to send Onkei job leads so we can be neighbors who meditate, do yoga, and dance to old hip hop songs together, 'til we grow old or I leave China in a year or so.
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Amanda Whitmore. Shareable with
author's written permission.
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