I’d like to take a minute to welcome this guest post from Lucy McCormick about the unique culture and identity of China. If you too would like to contribute a guest post, get in touch through the contact link above! Enjoy!
I’ve been inspired to write this by my little cousin who, having just booked his gap-year expedition to China, recently Skyped to ask my thoughts on ‘the Mystical East.’ For him and his peers, all heading on small group tours of China, expectations seem to run the full gamut of cultural references: from Crouching Tiger-esque landscapes to the Hong Kong skyline; from the curved roofscapes of Old Beijing to rows of uniform Mao-era tower blocks.
Assigning a single one of these images to China is impossible, mainly because they all exist simultaneously: it really isn’t for nothing that they call it the Land of Contradictions. The following is an attempt to give you an insight into daily life in China via six contradictory expectations commonly held by us laowai.
National Identity vs Lost Identity
It’s no secret that China has experienced astonishing economic growth in the last 30 years. Conspicuous consumption is now fashionable in the megacities: as an ex-pat it would be entirely feasible to live one’s life in a shiny bubble (as many do), flitting between Wal-Mart, Western wine bars and Starbucks without ever crossing paths with the ‘real China’. However, the idea that the whole country is simply assimilating to the Western model is misguided. The oldest culture in the world is living and breathing at every street-side barbeque, in every tea house and on every electric motorbike zipping at top speed through the gleaming metropolis, bearing a stack of live pigs, someone’s grandad and a six-foot bamboo pole (horizontally, across the handlebars).
Indirectness vs rudeness
Getting a straight answer to any question in Chinese is a dream best abandoned as close to arrival as possible. There are well-documented cultural reasons for this, but it is also partly a language issue. For example, there are no dedicated words for ‘yes’ and ‘no’, and the standard affirmative response to a question is ‘maybe’.
However, Chinese can also be unnervingly direct to Anglophone ears. For instance, it is entirely normal to address people in the service industry by ‘boss’ or ‘waiter’, and then shout whatever you want in their general direction. This results in the standard teahouse cry of ‘laoban’r! Kai shui!’ (Boss! Hot water!).
Cacophony vs Tranquility
One of the first things that hits you (almost literally) upon arrival in China is the noise. Early on, seeking to soothe the jet lag, I headed to People’s Park, envisaging an afternoon sipping tea and soaking up a soundtrack of softly clacking mah jong tiles beside a coi-filled lake. What I got was seventeen adjacent miked-to-the-max performance tents competing not only with each other, but with the impromptu karaoke shacks lining the walkways. Regent’s Park it ain’t.
That said, early risers can head to the river and join elderly residents in a tai chi class as the sun comes up, and an hour’s cycle leads to mountains dotted with secluded temples where the only sound is that of the bamboo growing (no – really).
In sum, the country is changing so rapidly that almost any preconception you have will be flaunted at some point. But that is the joy of China: just as you feel you’ve got a handle on it; that you have some idea of what ‘Chinese culture’ is, along comes another contradiction to thwart your expectations and re-ignite your curiosity.
Lucy McCormick lives in Chengdu, Sichuan province. When not writing or teaching, she spends her time climbing mountains, sipping bai cha in backstreet tea houses and dodging traffic – with limited success – on her bicycle.
I, Brock, was recently in China myself and echo so many of Lucy’s insights. Click on over to one of my other posts from where I show you how they tell the time in ancient China.
Have you been to China? Do you agree with how Lucy describes it?
