Chińczycy

 

Yesterday I was walking through Tiananmen Square and this couple came up to me and asked if I could take a picture. Of course I could. I go to take the camera and position them in front of something nice, but before I can get to it, the girl rushes over and puts her arm around me while her boyfriend starts snapping photos. Then they switch places. He’s got his arm around me while she works the camera. They were very giggly. I couldn’t help but be the same. I walked away a little confused. Then it happened again. And again. And again. When I started looking around, I realized I was being seen as a space alien; people doing double takes, stopping their stride to turn around and stare as I walked down the street. Babies that could barely walk were pointing and laughing. I wasn’t exactly sure if they laughing with me or at me. Regardless, I’ve continued to oblige, because they’re so nice about it. We should all laugh more. I’m happy to help

After a group of twenty grade school students in uniform came up to me wanting individual photos I was really feeling like an oddity. Then I spotted four black girls walking down the street, and I actually did a double take. Just then I realized that Beijing is full of tourists, but I would say about 95% of them are Asian, the remainder are white. People were losing their minds over these girls. I have no way to determine the underlying meaning of their looks, but they were powerful. The girls made an excellent show of remaining unaffected, but they were also, all four, wearing Daisy Dukes in a city full of people sweating it out inside jeans and sweatshirts in eighty degree weather, so maybe on some level they were digging the attention.

Aside from the photo takers, there’s another kind of attention that I’m still absolutely dubious about. It appears to be friendly conversation, always women, always out of nowhere, and contextually not making a whole lot of sense. It usually starts with a hello how ya doin’ then moves to whatever weird segue they have planned; “I like your tattoos and your body is very nice.” “You are very beautiful. Where are you going in the night?” Hmm… Should I tell her? Luckily I’m not very friendly, so I end the chitchat quickly and haven’t been robbed yet, but none of these ladies have been aggressive or disappointed when I go, so I just don’t get it. Maybe they just want to practice their English?

Something I really dig here is zero inhibitions when it comes to open displays of affection. I’m not talking about between lovers; I’m talking about between friends. In France and Italy I was always mesmerized by the girls in the street holding hands, the boys and the men with their arms draped over each other. We don’t have anything like it in the US. You only ever see heterosexual couples holding hands in public. In China it’s the same as in Europe; interlocked arms, hands on shoulders while walking, arms around waists. What are Americans so afraid of?

I’ve been testing out the street food here, and had some pretty great tasting stuff, but the locals are fucking with me. When I went to the Night Food Market one of the vendors called me over and said, “Do you know what this is?” I said no. He said “It’s cat.” He and his co-worker went nuts over the hilarity of it. Funny stuff guys. The joke has stuck with me in a very serious way. I went to buy a little bun sandwich that I was told was chicken, and I couldn’t shake the sense that it was actually feline. I had to think long and hard about eating it, and then I decided that it was ok as long as it wasn’t Skeeter or Olive. If it was cat I can tell you; cat tastes like chicken.

I’m impressed by the individuality of the Chinese. I would classify them as eccentric. They all seem to do exactly what they’d like with not much concern for what other people may think; funny exercises in the park, walking around with opaque scarves over their faces, and wearing whatever occurs to them. I can only described the fashion sense here as wacky; neon sneakers with black tights and white ankle sock, goofy hats and poofy skirts. There’s actually a lot of really interesting fashion going on, but all around it’s pretty off the wall, or maybe it’s just not making sense to my westernized mind that needs to meet a 90% quota of jeans and t-shirts a day to feel normalized.

This photo was my view from the Turkish toilet stall in the Summer Palace. The smell of urine was thick, but we must suffer for art, oui?