Just a few days ago I reflected that I couldn’t imagine a warmer welcome with more interest in us than from the Chinese. Except Beijing, when ever we stop for a fruit break or to buy water in a village, small market town, or even larger cities, it takes no time to attract a crowd of 20-70 people, mixed ages, from babies to the elderly. At times it’s a bit nerve wracking to be surrounded by so many people staring at me, yes, (and my 1.98m / 6′7″ height perpetually attracts people far outside the crowd) but these people are all friendly, extremely welcoming, and simply curious about us, with perhaps 2-3 exceptions during my entire 3 years in China. If they’re not already similing at me, my own smile can usually change a skeptical-looking face into a smile in an instant, though some people are just so shocked to see me all they can do is stare. Certainly in the rural areas and market towns where we spend most of our time, foreigners never go. At best, upon asking if other foreigners have been through, someone will say they saw one or two come through a year ago.
Of course the crowd attraction is just the start. The questions start to fly as soon as they know I can speak some Chinese. ”What country are you from, how old are you, are you a student, are you married, what are you doing, where did you start, you really biked here from Beijing!?, America has alot of money doesn’t it, are you all from the same country - certainly she (Nakia) is from a different country, etc.” I answer and explain our bike trip and our goals of building understanding and peace as best as I can to their interest and entertainment shown by their intensive listening, leaning forward to hear me, their smiles, and laughter at this odd sight of a tall lao wai speaking Chinese. My answers produce more questions and I’ve never worn a crowd out; its always I who must say, “Ok, it’s been great meeting and chatting with you, but I really must be going.”
With some people, I only have to say “Ni hao” (hello) and they begin overly praising my Chinese ability. But for all Chinese, from the Lao Bai Xing (Old Hundred Names or the common people) to the new and growing upper class, it seems to be just short of a miracle that a foreigner can speak Chinese with them.
I’ve found Chinese to be very proud of being warm, friendly, and hospitable, often saying directly, “What do you think about Chinese people? Aren’t we warm and hospitable?” This, while they’re pouring more tea in my cup, putting more food on my plate, or holding a glass of beer in the air signaling yet another gan bei (bottoms up or literally, “dry glass”). What can I do but agree with them? “Yes, you are very hospitable and friendly,” I tell them, while smiling to myself about our cultural difference on humility and bragging.
In our 2.5 weeks of biking so far, we’ve had 4 major generous offerings:
1) In Hebei province, An Kong, a middle school student, invited us into his family’s home for dinner and to spend the night for free. Although we though his parents would oppose hosting 5 of us, his mother was very welcoming. An amazing and humbiling experience of generocity.
2) In southern Shang Dong province, a couple days ago, a man in a new VW Jetta pulled up next to me while biking, asked what we were doing, and immediately offered to take us out to lunch, his treat. Though it was only 10am and we’d only been biking for little over an hour, we took him up on his offer. He was in his late 30s, boisterous, though friendly. He first took us to the small company he worked for, where we drank tea for 15 min at his and his co-workers’ insistence. I didn’t know exactly what his plan was, there was alot of talking between him and his co-workers, and began to think I had mis-understood his offer of a free lunch. But sure enough, after our tea time, he lead us down the street - us on our bikes and he in his Jetta - to a typcial market town restaurant, where we tasted some of the local specialties, with fresh and very potent garlic from the surrouding fields.
3) In Gaofengtou, Shangdong prov, (a small village) the family owning the lu guan (hostel) we stayed at gave us a free dinner on our first of two nights there. Jianbing, a kind of very thin bread like a crepe with little flavor, is the speciality that they had us try by putting the dishes in it and wrapping it.
4) Just last night in Shu Yang, Jiangsu prov, I was talking to a group of people on a street corner during an afternoon walk, and a young man took me aside and said he wanted to talk further with me. An older gentleman joined us, Mr. Wang, and they both took me to a newly opened restaurant where they both work, richly decorated in bamboo, specializing in ancient Chinese gourmet dishes. After a photo shoot with the well-dressed staff, Mr. Wang offered a free dinner for all 5 of us. He met us at 7pm at our lu guan (hostel), dressed in a suit, and escorted us for the 7 min walk to the restaurant. There were many people outside, and the inside was full except for one table for us. The food was amazing, much higher quality than we’re used to eating. Mr. Wang introduced the owner to us, a surprisingly young-looking man, 32, who sat down with us for most of our meal though had already eaten. He was a bit nervous and distracted by all the activity happening in his new restraunt. Dishes seemed to keep on coming, each one very different from the previous but all with the same high level of quality and richness of flavor. He would briefly explain each dish, most being a speciality from ancient China, at times seeming more interested in assessing how our presence at his restaurant and photographs of us during the meal could boost his restraunt business. “Isn’t the flavor delcious? You can’t find these ancient dishes even in Beijing!” both Mr. Wang and the young owner said repeatedly. Again, what else could we say? The food was in fact delcious, so we politely and readily agreed with them dispite, again, the awkward and continuous promting and bragging. Photos were taken during and after our meal, no doubt to be used in advertising of some kind. A small price to pay for a wonderful meal.
After dinner, the other fueledbyricers went back to our hostel to rest, but upon the young owner’s insistence, I went with him for a brief tour of the center of town. He brought me to two small Chinese name-brand athletic stores on a newly built high-end shopping street. Pointing at himself, he said, “Mine.” “Really,” I said, “wow.” He proceeded, “I own 10 shops on this street selling Chinese and Japanese name brand athletic shoes and clothing.” Again, in his two shops we took the time to do a photo shoot with the fuwuyuan’s (servers or staff). He told me later that he owned 3 cars (even for most white collar workers in Beijing, one car is a far-off dream), and apparently started with a little money 10 years ago after graduating from high school. Similar to the US, a college education is not necissary to become rich in China. Both he and Mr. Wang were very proud of Shu Yang’s central shopping area, full of neon lights and typical gaudy Chinese guilded gliz and glam. This is China’s new booming economy. So different from the laobaixing we’ve talked to harvesting corn, potatos, cotton, and garlic. Just another symptom of China’s dangerously large and growing income gap between rich and poor. The lack of NGOs and other non-profit charity organizations (or lack of trustworthiness of the few that do exist) make the distribution of this new wealth nearly impossible, even if the wealthy want to give money. However many are optimistic about this changing in the next decade.
Besides the warm and generous welcome of the Chinese where ever we go, I have on occasion been dumbfounded by the behavior of a few Chinese tourists - of which there are many at most Chinese tourist sites, usually middle to upper class. Perhaps I am misunderstanding something about the culture, or perhaps, as I fear, among some there is a lack of respect for the sacred, with some possible connection to new and seemingly unlimitless wealth, but this is meer speculation.
Our recent brief visit to Confucious’ tomb in Qufu, Shangdong province stands out in my mind. Adam, Jim, and I were standing a little ways from the enormous burial mound of the Great Teacher. A Chinese tour group with guide came up to the alter and large tomb stone in front of Confucious’ burial mound. There was a 3-foot high brick fence between us and the burial mound. To my surprise, I watched as 4 or 5 of the 40-something male Chinese from the group jumped up onto the alter, looking around causually. One of them, walked to the edge of the alter, and jumped around the tomb stone, over the fence, into the grass and weeds at the base of Confucious’ burial mound and proceeded to climb the 30 foot high mound. Funny, I’d noticed just a few minutes before all the spider webs on the weeds and grass, as if the burial mound hadn’t been distrubed in ages. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I watched this slightly obese man climb Confucious’ burial mound in a very non-chalant manner, the act itself in my mind atleast, disrespecting Confucious and myself as a foreign tourist at a sacred site. Adding to my surprise, the tour guide and all the other Chinese tourists paid no attention to him and in the end, no one told him to come down. After arriving at the top of the mound, and having a good around look from the top, the man came back down, and hopped back over the fence. “Did that just happen?! Is it somehow acceptable in mondern Chinese culture to climb burial mounds, especially those of famous people?” I asked Jim and Adam. All I could do was watch. I was shocked, feeling perhaps similarly to the hundreds of Chinese who watch us pedal through their towns each day. I only hope that we come across as being a bit more respectful than this man. Only when walking out of the large tomb sight, did I realize that we should have interviewed the man to learn of his perspective and motivation for doing such a thing. During a time in China’s last 40 years, Confucious wasn’t such a reveered teacher. Perhaps this is part of the explanation.
