Things I Didn't Know

Recently I read an article that was a compilation of people's thoughts and observations about America when they were living there for the first time (The article is actually titled 16 People On Things They Couldn't Believe About American Until They Moved Here). It's a whole lot of perspective on what we as a society consider "normal," or at least pretty native to the US.

With this in mind, I thought I'd try and give my own list of what I've experienced living in a city in China.

Let me be clear and preface this with: These are my own experiences and I am not generalizing them to the culture or country as a whole. It may be that I've only seen/experienced an isolated occurrence, so please don't get on my case saying things like, "But I went to that same city and I didn't have any of those happen to me!" or, "You're taking things out of context and RUINING NATIONS." or, "I really wish you would tell me the recipe for your chocolate chip cookies, they're just so delightful!" We might have been to the same place, but this is my life. Also, I'll die before I tell you the recipe, Barbara. Trying to steal my spotlight at the county fair each year, you harpy.

Let's begin:

1. Traffic
Holy Hannah Montana the traffic! People had told me that the traffic was a little ridiculous, but I really didn't know what they meant. I think the only rule that applies is that there are no rules. If you want to change lanes, you swerve into the other lane. You may do this if you're a small e-bike or a 2-ton bus; it really doesn't matter. Pedestrians walking into the middle of a crowded intersection? No problem; just walk a little quicker grandma. (The sad thing is that I've gotten used to this and if a taxi isn't cutting people off, I think it's going too slow).

2. Sqautter Toilets
The actual preferred method of excreting your bowels is by squatting. To do so, there's usually a toilet like structure planted into the ground where you just do your business. I'm still not good and and probably won't ever be good at mastering this skill. I'm alright with that. Also, there's usually no toilet paper in the stalls.

That's a squatter in case you didn't know.

3. Grocery Shopping

Grocery shopping is much more frequent here than it is in the states. People don't usually buy things to stock up for a week or two, but usually opt just for what they need to make the meals for the next day or so. After the meal is made and everyone has eaten, a lot of the time the excess is thrown out.

4. Credit & Cash
Most stores in my city don't accept credit cards. The preferred method of payment is debit or plain old cash. Thinking back, I usually never carried much actual cash in the states whereas now that's really all I deal with.

5. Pay As You Go Plans
As far as I know, monthly subscriptions to most things don't exist. Your phone bill you pay for until the credit runs out, your gas until the gas is out, the internet until you use all your data, and your bus card until you've taken so many trips. Depending on how much you use something, this can be beneficial (seeing as how my phone bill comes to about 30$ in the past six months).

6. Eating Out
Having a dinner party at one's home is mostly unheard of here. Usually, the home is reserved for immediate family. If one has a guest they'd like to treat to a meal, they always take them out to a restaurant.

7. Eating Out Part II
Eating dinner at a restaurant can mean a very long meal. It's rude to just leave mid-meal without the host suggesting that the dinner is over, so sometimes you gotta get comfy.

8. Transportion
Everyone takes public transportation. It's a lot more convenient and reliable than most American cities--also cheaper. Having a car in the city is more a sign of wealth and status than it is the only mode of transportation.

9. Long Pinky Nail (or other fingers)
Exactly what it sounds like. I still do not know what the utility of it is. Is it for aesthetics? Protection? Opening cans of soda?

10. Chinese Food is Spicy (and Other Things)
Really, I just didn't know it was that spicy. Generally, there are also more bones in a meat dish and lots of fish are served with the face still attached. Congealed blood? I didn't know that was a dish. Restaurants serve a lot more of the animal than US restaurants do.

11. No Tipping
Really, no tipping. Never ever. You just don't. (I've been told that it's offensive, but I don't have enough solid facts to say that's the sole reason, though it could be).

12. Portion Size
I guess I should have expected this, but gone are the days of a really large order. Drinks are about the size of an American small (if that even exists anymore) and dinner is usually served on a small plate where you can dish up your own portions. What I would kill for an Iceberg milkshake...

13. Fruit on Pizza.
NO.

There you have it as that's what I can think of right now. Like I said before, this is just my experience and it's to try and give you a little better look at my current life. Who doesn't want to step into my shoes? They really don't smell that bad. Do you know whose shoes smell bad? My neighbor who puts his shoes outside his door into the hallway in my apartment building. The entire hall just ruined by rancid feet smell. One of these days I'm going to throw them out the window, but I'm also afraid to touch them because they smell so bad.

...So in comparison, my feet really aren't that bad.

Sandwiches

I found myself wanting Subway on a Friday night. After having eaten authentic Chinese food all week, I was craving some small slice of America (preferably with turkey, tomato, and some mayo). With there being two Subways in the area, I decided to hit up the one closest to the night market. This way I would be able to hit two birds with one stone; a wonderful mediocre sub and a busy market with things I'll never need but I always love to look at.

The small journey began as going to Subway is actually a small trek. Unlike my old city with a Subway built in my backyard, basement, and infesting every street corner; I would have to take a bus across town. When I say town, I mean through rush hour Chinese traffic. Take a pickle. Now shove that pickle through some peanut butter. You have about the same effect. Still, I was set on getting my sub so I headed out.

After sitting on the bus pressed up against a bunch of the Zhengzhou natives, I walked a few blocks to my destination: Subway! Oh, sweet glorious American capitalism invading each country coast to coast. On my final street cross, I jogged up an elevated sidewalk and down the other side where I spied a woman sitting on the stairs jingling a small cup filled with coins. I quickly thought about how I didn't have any small bills, so I walked quickly by and hopped down the stairs.

Subway was in sight...but so was another symbol of the American way, McDonald's. Despite my hour trek and my initial reason to make my way over to this part of town in the first place, my brain suddenly wanted a hamburger.

No, Ryan; you came over here for Subway. 

But, hamburger.

I know, but do you really need to eat that junk?

Yes.

Well, OK then.

I didn't struggle too long before I walked underneath the glowing yellow 'M' and through the doors. I made an order and, like its name, the food was fast. Sitting down, my mind kept going back to the old woman on the stairs.

Weeks before, I had been going to a trivia night with my old roommate, Jake. We would always walk through an underpass and occasionally there would be people sleeping underground in the alley-like structure. "You know," I said, "some people can really just sleep anywhere." Jake didn't really respond. When we made our way to the top, Jake told me to go on ahead and that he'd be there soon. Instead of doing as he suggested, I came with him to wherever he was going (mostly out of curiosity). We found our way into a small convenient liquor store (because most stores are just liquor with random things scattered here and there) where Jake bought a few bottled drinks. I decided I was thirsty, so I bought one too. When we walked out the door, I began walking towards our original destination but Jake was walking back towards the underpass. Huh?

I followed, still oblivious to what was going on, as we made our way back down the stairs. Jake went back the way we came and set a drink by each of the men sleeping on the ground. Yup. Douchebag, was all the echoed through my head.

Growing up, I had always been taught to usually ignore homeless people because a lot of the time they weren't actually homeless, just scamming people. I really took that mentality with me everywhere, putting on these people blinders so I could walk by without being accosted. In my mind, I had made these people nothing and forgot that these people actually were homeless. No home. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. And here I was making a joke about how they were able to sleep on the ground. Douchebag.

Back to McDonald's, I'm sitting there remembering my former douchebaggery and I kept thinking to the woman outside on the stairs. Maybe this would be the opportunity to redeem myself. I stared down at my three sandwiches: two small cheeseburgers and a chicken sandwich. Would she really enjoy any of these? I told myself that she probably wouldn't. I ate my two hamburgers and being full, I took it as a sign that she was meant to have the chicken sandwich. Yes, by this point, I was accepting that fast food from a mega-corporation were giving me existential signs.

Cleaning up my garbage, I headed back outside with sandwich in tow to see if the woman was still on the stairs. She looked to be cleaning up and moving on, so I hurried towards her.

"Ni hao..." I held out the sandwich and she gingerly took it, not really looking up to see what she was actually taking. When she looked down in her hands she had a slightly confused look on her face as if this was definitely not what had been expecting. Without missing a beat, I kept making my way up the stairs not really wanting to see what would happen next. I had that little light feeling I get when I've deemed something I've done worthy of correcting all past misdeeds. It was a chicken sandwich of karmic justice, it was.

Then I coughed. Oh shit. The past week I had been sick. The kind of sick with loose bowels, dry heaving, and a nasty cough. I had also just given a chicken sandwich that I had handled to a homeless stranger.

I walked a little faster.

Murdered As An Adult

"I really shouldn't be buying these..." I said to myself as I picked up a packet of Milano cookies at the local Wal-Mart. These tasty little cookies had always been something I had deemed "too-pricey" for my treat category and had always secretly desired them but never actually bought them. I mean, how could a small packet of cookies cost five dollars. Were they magic cookies? Did they come with small gold nuggets? Were they being endorsed by Oprah? Better yet, she should make an appearance when you open the package. "Well, I guess it is in my budget to try them..."

The cookies were packed in my backpack along with the other spoils from the grocery store and I made my way back to my apartment. By the time I opened my door, everything was dark out leaving me to have my hands crawl along the wall looking for a light switch. Find it find it quick! With a switch of the light, I set down my groceries and quickly went back to the door to fasten the dead bolt. The small click I heard meant I would live another day.

Recently, my friend Beth sent me a link to a series of scary and bizarre stories (66 stories to be exact). Normally I really like being scared, but like most things that I do I tend to over-think them. One scary story gives me a smile. Twenty makes me begin to check the locks on the windows. Forty and I've locked myself in my room hiding underneath the blankets. I start to hear sounds I've normally heard (plumbing, creaking, neighbors fighting) and now they've become sinister. Around every corner was death of some kind and there was no way to escape it.

This continued for a few days. Me going to bed, double-checking everything to make sure no people-face-wearing murderers were lurking behind my couch or hiding under my bed. Each day I'd chip away at some of the Milano cookies as well. Why would anyone buy these? There just aren't enough, even if they are pretty good. I was forcing myself to ration these cookies believing that I would never actually buy them again. What was stopping me though? Nothing.

As I lay in bed one night listening to the sounds of a murderer scratching on my door, I came to the weird realization that this was my adult life. Never before had I been allowed to "splurge" on name-brand cookies just to see what they really tasted like. Never before had I had enough time to eat these cookies and then worry about if I was going to live to see the next day.

In my head, adulthood was a phase that I was going to reach with some sort of obvious "Ah-ha!" moment. It was going to be something special like me renting my first car, having an embossed business card, or realizing I pay too much for cable; it was supposed to be special.

Really, I wanted it to be special. I wanted there to be one specific moment that I would be able to pass on to younger generations and really be able to give them some wisdom. "You know, Tiny Tim, the first moment I knew I was a real adult was when I helped my friend hide the body of that asphyxiated stripper." I'd get my adult card in the mail and adult magazine would arrive at my house every month...not that kind of magazine.

But that wasn't how it turned out. Without thinking, I jumped into the fast lane of adulthood by buying five dollar cookies. Now I have to acknowledge my cookie choices and start worrying about when I'll pay too much for cable (which won't be soon considering I don't own a TV). What else do adults do? Wash their hair every other day? Make investments? Buy three dollar cookies?

All these important decisions and here I was, stuck with my 5 dollar cookies on a road to destruction. This was what adult life was going to be like: worrying about irrational things like expensive designer cookies while there are real problems like a man with chainsaws for hands in my closet.