On the Bus

A few weeks ago I learned something about "me in China".

It came to me as I put my 2 Yuan (er kuai) in the bus' cash box, stumbled to the back, and tried to find a place to stand. I suddenly realized that I was trying to draw as little attention to my person as possible. It dawned on me that I have made it a habit to try to blend in to my surroundings and the people.

I am shamed to say that I have been zipping in and out of markets, trying to make as few mistakes and foolish moves as possible.

While this might make me feel more comfortable (in the moment), it profits me nothing. In doing this I have grown accustom to being a "non-observer". I have been so focused on trying to blend in and assimilate into the culture that I have forgotten to watch.

I was shocked. In normal life I am an observer of people. In my youth I practiced "people observation" in the manner of Sherlock Holmes and would try to deduce who people were and what they were doing from the clues on/of their person.

In the last couple months I have forgotten. My disdain of noticeably sticking out, particularly as a tourist and/or foreigner, has overcome my tendency to observe.

But, I must face it: I STICK OUT.

My eyes are round and my hair is titian. What can I do?!

I began to lecture myself while grasping onto the overhead hand rail, "Even if you learned the language, all the acceptable cultural practices, AND memorized the layout of all the markets and grocery stores, you would still stick out."

I am not Chinese. While it may be true that 'blending in' could save me some small pain and embarrassment, I have lost opportunities to learn and find out more --as an outsider-- about the Chinese culture.

And so, I repented.

As I continued my bus journey that morning, I saw more "China" than I have seen in a long time. I saw a bicycle repair man sitting alone and cold, arms wrapped around his body, waiting for his next customer to arrive. I saw the fuzziest steering wheel cover, (looked like the life of a small Shi Tzu had been sacrificed for the fashion of the car).

I saw a man stop to check his bike's flat tire (too bad he wasn't near the bike repair man,) and I watched as he got back on his bike in the Chinese manner (push yourself off with one foot on the peddle, then swing the other leg over, sit, and start propelling yourself forward.)

I saw a woman on the bus unraveling her yarn, a grandmother talking in an intelligent manner to her granddaughter (seems to be a rare find in China). I heard and saw a young man point in my direction, making it known to his traveling companion that a foreigner was on the bus.

I heard (though I did not understand,) the argument of an older man and an older woman. I heard the laughter from the other commuters responding to the argument. I smelled the thick, polluted air and saw the diversity of people and classes that is "China".

Though I may never be able to fit in, I can observe, create stories, and report.

And that is what I have determined to do, my friends. I don't want to return to the States empty handed. I want to come back alive and filled with stories of China, its different parts and its different people. I hope that I will succeed. At times it my be awkward and a bit painful, but it also has the possibility to bring great reward.

[Though I know many of "you" (implying that I do have more than one reader,) would prefer some of these to be told in pictures. I know. I am trying to work on improving my skills for your benefit.]