A BLACK ALIEN LOST IN CHINA

FIRST TIME IN CHINA
 

Being forced to learn English, French, Latin, Greek and other obscure African languages permanently scarred the part of my brain that is responsible for learning new languages. In the last two months of travelling in India and Nepal I at least managed to pick up three words: hello (namaste), thank you (namaste), and goodbye (namaste). That gives you a taste of how advanced my language skills can get. But when you are in China with a brain that is incapable of learning anything beyond namaste, you are in trouble. I landed in China after mid-night with a pre-paid hotel and a mandarin phrase book. Still, I do not recommend taking cheap airline like Airsia, which will get you to China in the middle of the night armed only with a booked hotel and a phrasebook. The Chinese girls sitting next to me on the flight were curious about what a lone African girl was doing in China. The immigration officers seemed curious too. I was the last one to come through immigration- nothing unusual about this, everywhere Africans are treated like refugees. The immigration officer serving me called his colleague, who called his other colleague, who called his supervisor, who called his supervisor and soon there were 10 officers looking at my passport, passing it on from one hand to another, turning it over, thumbing it through and rubbing the main page to see if the writing would come off and a nervous me asking what was the matter. They eventually did let me into their country without a single question, but the silent thumbing was enough to leave me rattled. 

My newly formed Chinese friends who had waited the whole time the immigration officers were giving me a dose of a Chinese welcome, suggested writing down my hotel name in Chinese characters so that a taxi driver would be able understand where to take me. My faith in China rekindled until one of the girls pointed out that my hotel was actually 400km away! This was now 1.00am by the way. I had actually made an effort to book a hotel and even made sure that it was linked to the airport, and now this? As it turned out my hotel was only 40 minutes away on a shuttle bus. The location of the hotel shares the same name as a provincial town which is indeed 400km away, hence the confusion. The taxi ride from the shuttle bus station to the hotel involved going round and round Shenzhen city and several stops by the driver to ask for directions. With each loop I got more and more worried that maybe he could not find my hotel because it was 400km away after all. Half an hour later he pulled up at a huge monstrosity, which he claimed to be my hotel. I refused to get out of the car. I could not see any Pinyin letters anywhere suggesting that this was indeed my hotel or that it was even a hotel at all. And I was not going to be dumped at some African-butchering place at 2am in the morning. I stayed put in the taxi- better to be butchered by the devil you barely know than the one you don't know at all. He did finally convince me that I was at the right place and I eventually did see small English letters confirming that it was Shenzhen Hailian Hotel. He then asked for the paper with the hotel name in Chinese characters and solemnly corrected one character, which explained why he could not find the hotel. Just this one wrong character completely changed the name of the hotel. 

I stayed in my room until 3pm the next day. 'Stayed' - a better word than the more accurate description: that I hid in my room with dread hoping China and its language barrier would go simply away and leave me alone. I lay in bed until hunger drove me out of the room. Finding a restaurant required me writing down the word 'restaurant' on a piece of paper and the receptionist entering it into her own version of Chinese Google-Translate to figure out what I was asking. Fortunately Chinese restaurants have pictorial menus, so it should be pretty easy to point and choose. But there are always unforeseeable complications; like pointing to a picture of dumplings and being asked, in Chinese, if you want chicken, egg, dog, or pork dumplings. In my case the issue was the size. And since I did not understand what I was being asked I just kept pointing to picture of the fish, saying yes, yes, yes, and nodding my head vigorously to bring home the point. So you can imagine my embarrassment when a huge fish, large enough to feed a dozen people, showed up and worse, I ate it all. 

By the late afternoon I had gained enough confidence to explore around and look for a tourist information centre that the Lonely Planet insisted was at the train station. I looked for it for two hours asking around in English, in Chinese, and showing them the Chinese characters for tourist information office. Nobody knew where it was. I went up and down the station until David, a Chinese entrepreneur who is interested in being an agent for Africans looking for Chinese products, especially furniture, helped me out- I have his business card if any one of you needs his services. He took me to the bus ticket office where I bought a ticket for my next destination. What a nice fellow, I thought, until I found out later on the sleeper bus that I had paid $10 more than everybody else. That was the first lesson in China: everything, even a bus ticket, is negotiable. By the evening, I had hooked up myself a Chinese date! The only problem was; only one of us was aware that we were on date. And that was not me. This second night in China turned to be one of the most bizarre nights I have ever had; so bizarre I think it deserves a Blog of its own. Suffice it to say that my date asked if he could use my toilet and the next thing I knew the guy was having a shower, while I was left standing in the middle of my hotel room in total bewilderment and a slight panicky feeling; thinking if things turn ugly here, which communist Chinese police officer is going to believe me that this guy came up to my room to use the toilet and get my email address. Nothing bad happened. 

You might think that with a phrase book I would have learned more Mandarin by now, but I have only managed to learn Ni'hao (hello) and xiexie (thank you), shi (yes)- although my tongue keeps on confusing things by saying cha (Khmer for 'yes'). The rest of the other words take leave as soon as they are registered in my brain.... and don't even get me started on the tones! The phrase book has proved to be extremely useful however, not in learning Chinese, but in pointing out the Chinese characters to people so that they can read for themselves what it is I want to ask. 

HOW I LOVE HATE CHINA

I think I love and hate China in equal measure: the language barrier being the thorniest issue. You get a hernia finding your way to the hotel each time. You ask a taxi to take you some hotel and he says no; mostly because he doesn't want your 'I speak no Chinese, I have no clue where I am going, and I don't know the Chinese name for my hotel' problem to become his problem. Then you get those who will just smile, and smile even more when you repeat the hotel name louder and louder, each time with different pitch trying to guess where the tones should be without sounding panicky with desperation. The worst are the ones, like my-first-night-in-China taxi driver, who will simply say yesi, yesi, put your rucksack in the boot when they have no idea where to go. Two clueless people in a taxi, speaking different languages, in the middle of the night while it's pouring with rain is not fun. One thing that I really hate here is when Chinese people physically react to me, a black person, which is expressed by a gasp and an involuntary jump backwards as if recoiling from a snake! Although this rarely happens, it still leaves a deep disturbing impression on me. If I get kicked out of China, it will be because I have punched someone in the face after this reaction! I also can't stand the vocalised clearing of the throat, especially when the person doing this is right next to me on a bus and I am already feeling queasy from motion sickness. They dredge up the phlegm and spit it into a clear plastic paper and my eyes, despite repeated protests from the brain, stay glued to the yellow goo. 

Chinese communal toilets are as legendary as stressful. I am OK with the ghastly, stinky toilets with fumes so powerful they make your eyes smart and keep you high for several hours. I grew up with these. Actually, the first time I saw a flashing toilet I refused to go, I was so sure I would accidentally fall through and get flashed down the pipes, so I would sneak out to the bushes when no-one was looking. But in China going to the toilet is an adventure. I still I don't know how I can calmly walk into a room where one or several Chinese derrieres are raised above squat toilets lined up with no doors, pull down my jeans, and engage in what the rest of these bums are doing. If you are lucky, some toilets are separated by low partitions, which come up to your waist when you squat. People are talking and laughing over the phone and actually having conversations with their fellow toiletors while doing their dirty business! In rural areas, the toilet rooms have no doors at all, so anyone passing by outside can clearly see the straining effort on your face. These toilets get me e-v-e-r-y s-i-n-g-l-e time. I walk in, unsuspecting as usual, and as soon as I see a butt, I stop short in shock, stammer my apologies, and sprint out of the room as fast as I can. When I really have to go, every Chinese woman will try to find an excuse to visit the toilet at that particular time; people will even try and peer down to see what I look like down there. I don't know about you, but I really cannot go if my bottom is exposed to anyone who happens to walk in or is just standing there and staring. I heard a very stressful story from a travel companion, a pale, blond Swedish guy, who, when he went to the bushes to relieve himself, had the whole bus descend to the spot to inspect the colour of his pooh! 

But China is also just as fascinating, as is hateful. I just can't get enough of all the Chinglish. 'Free cheap air tickets available here' -I am still trying to get hold of these elusive free cheap tickets! Or 'slip carefully' (caution, slippery floor). And I am actually using toothpaste called 'Darkie'. I am also fascinated by the hunger that the people here have for English and they will take every opportunity to practise it. When I am reading my novel, people will come and look at me and the book, with the type of admiration you only get from a 9 year old seeing her older sibling, made up and dressed up for the first time on a prom night. I don't know if they are fascinated because I can read a western book or the fact that I am African but can decipher western text. I will never know. I once was asked by a taxi driver, while waiting for the hotel to pick me up- since it was too complicated for me to find the place on the narrow streets on my own with only 'xiexie' and 'ni'hao'- if I had a book. Amazing how much you can communicate with gestures hah! He flipped through it, running his fingers over the words for about five minutes before handing the book back to me with such solemn gravity on his face like it was a book of wisdom. In China it is perfectly OK for strapping young Chinese guys to carry the dainty little Louis Vuitton bags for their girlfriends. Wish all men were like that! The famous Beijing Peking Duck is to die for. It absolutely melts in your mouth. The tourist sceneries are incredible, even if I have to share them with 3000 other Chinese tourists chattering and screaming at each in Mandarin. I love the fake 'ancient' cities of Yunan- old towns that were torn down by the government in favour of modernisation, only to realise their mistake and rebuild them anew using the old architecture- I don't care! I love them all, right down to the fake red Chinese lanterns! I must also add that I have been pleasantly surprised by how helpful Chinese people are, right from the moment I stepped on the plane bound for China. People will even walk you to the place you need to go to if you cannot understand the directions. Taxi drivers, who can also be great white sharks, will even call your hotel for the hotel to explain to you why he can only take you to a certain place. I found these moments of kindness extremely moving. 

HIGHS AND LOWS

The highest moment has to be shared between Yangshou- Guilin and huffing and puffing up and down the Great Wall of China. Although I wish someone had warned me about how steep and slippery the wall is. I may have cracked my coccyx in a fall! The most embarrassing moment was accidentally locking my host in her home in Beijing while I went touring the Great Wall. A few shameful facts that I can actually mention here: despite lugging around 2kg fake India and China Lonely Planets, I have no clue which dynasties shaped the history of China or which different empires occupied India, or what that recent Nepali civil war was all about. I only used the Lonely Planet as an emergency service when I landed in a new place with no idea where to go. After using the name RMB (Chinese currency) around for three weeks, I only found out two days ago what it actually stands for. The most shocking moment: finding underwear, condoms, dildos and massage oils for sale in hotel rooms- I thought a communist government which is capable of banning Facebook would never allow this kind of stuff to happen! And of course the 'shower date'. Most worrying thing: I am still coughing a month after the high altitude sickness in Ladakh- India; I hope it’s nothing serious. Highest achievement: I almost conquered my fear for the subway, almost. I am, was, absolutely petrified of the metro. My fear for the tube developed way back on the London Underground and I do not talk about it. But the straight-forward Beijing subway allowed me to travel around without breaking out in sweat each time. 

As I wind down my trip, and start looking forward to all the things I have missed in Phnom Penh, not to mention the panic of not having a job, I can't help but reflect on how truly blessed I have been to have travelled and experienced the ghastly, horrid, stinky beautiful, serene, incredible India, Nepal and China as a fumbling clueless traveller.