Andrew & Esther - Through Our Eyes Archive
Our Thoughts

April 16, 2008
on ordering water and near tricycle collisions
It was one of those “ah, I should have known” roll of the eye moments in class when we learnt how to say “playground”, “yùndònɡchǎnɡ!” Initially at least, it almost feels as if almost all the words sound like “dong” or chang” or “chuang” or “gong” or “huang” or “bong”. I almost feel as if we’re learning variations of 6 consonants and 7 vowels and on top of that have to memorize tones lest I ask for a tree instead of a book. And as this occurs, my sympathy level arises for learners of a language as basic as English. In writing this, I envision Jason, our new friend who helped us find our apartment as he hesitates, then scribbles a word like a Chinese equivalent of “valueless” on his palm pilot and it comes up with “floccinaucinihilipilification”. “Boy, can’t it be like banchang?” you could almost hear him say.

Empathy is peaked as our morning stomachs churn in reading dialogues of Chinese kids in our textbooks eating their meat dumplings, corn or fish rice porridge patties for breakfast. The sights and smells of our neighborhood are just as vivid as those as we walk to class each morning and I can’t help but wonder how amazed a Chinese kid would be to learn that their Faguó peers might be keen on chomping on putrid fermented cow milk and shriveled up bread called “croissants” that early in the morning. Such comparisons just make us smile. I remember Andrew perpetually reviewing scenes of his interactions in France through the accent of a Chinese speaker stuttering a “me want baguette, yes?”, and now as we're actually in China, that analogy seems so much more appropriate. But feeling foolish and sounding silly is just part of the learning process.

No matter how silly it might sound, I figured if we were going to have more drinking water, we’d have to order two more bottles in Chinese. So, from the kitchen floor and tightly gripping my notebook, I picked up the phone yesterday to dial our “water hotline” to get the water man to cycle by today. As it was dialing, I panicked a bit.. “crap, Andrew, what if they say something back and I don’t ..” and then came the nerve-wracking albeit expected “Ni hao?” and it was just a matter of getting the words out: “I want buy 2 bottles water!” “Come now?” and miracle of miracles, the guy apparently understood: “HA! HA! Xiànzài!”. At this point, the guy did say something, but not knowing what, I couldn’t do anything but guess. A bit too sure of myself at that point for actually communicating over a first phone call, I blurted our street number forgetting the name of the street. “Uh, uh .. Yan’ An Xi Lu!” “and the 16kuai bottles please!” “Oh, and building number bla and apartment number bla. Thank you. Bye bye”. And with that, I hung up, screamed for joy, ran and jumped into Andrew’s proud arms and eagerly awaited for my prize to arrive – in that order. It doesn’t sound like much of an achievement, but I was chuffed.. until it didn’t actually arrive at the promised “now”. An hour later, I was discouraged, thinking I probably delivered the bottles to some neighbors, causing a fight and a gang killing or something. And then the doorbell rang, with our two x 2 US dollar 18.5L bottles and Händels Hallelujah Chorus faintly ringing in my head.

Other successes yesterday included us becoming official residents after two previous unsuccessful visits to our police station. We were only 30 days late to register, resulting in a strict fine of 10kuai per late day per person. Andrew felt we had nothing to lose and contested it - “But, but, it’s our first time in China” and “we didn’t know and bla..”. A good look at us both followed by scrutinized flipping of the passport pages resulted in a: “ok, but you come back in two hours. And I have to write warning”. The two hour delay must have been our punishment and the warning a shame thing. As far as we were concerned, we were happy as larks to return with our registration papers, no fine, and an officially stamped warning from the police in Chinese. It was a long process, involving a lot of signing of Chinese documents and inscribing them with date and exact time, which obviously kept changing. We were so happy to get that done that we decided to take a(n awful) picture in front of the station. But hey, we’re official! What a weight off our shoulders.

Slightly less exciting have been the bus rides into town each morning as they are so darn packed and stuffy. Still, I’ve been impressed by random acts of kindness in the bus. It’s like a stamp of approval that a foreigner would actually ride the bus ‘like the rest of us’. When the 911 wasn’t so full, one ticket lady even gave me her magazine, pointing at my bum as I studied Chinese on the hump of the wheel spot. Besides the shoving and pushing in the bus and other seemingly rude things resulting from large people masses, the Chinese seem really friendly. Amongst the rude things are some of the drivers. Thankfully I was saved by my loving husband during my near death collision with a huge bulky loaded three-wheeler recycle man as I stepped out of the bus one morning. I had seen it happen before, where bus-riders get clobbered by ruthless bikes racing to get to work. In this case, it was more convenient for him to overtake on the right of the bus, but then again, bummer if anyone actually wants to exit the bus, right? Anyway, I screamed as Andrew grabbed me back into the bus as I felt the recycle load skim my nose as it raced past, attempting to break. I thankfully only suffered from a mowed-over foot and a scare. Note to self: look both ways before exiting moving vehicles. But it’s such a convenient method of public transportation around here with buses coming all the time and at 2kuai per ride (25 US cents), there’s really nothing to complain about. A great, cheap and fast system for moving people!