Worst Kept Secrets

We’ve developed a raging addiction to ice cream bars called Magnums. And yes, they do have a sultry female on the packaging shooting a come-hither look. The logo is Desire, 2008. And yes, the size is about what you’d expect from the name. And it’s just funny to say, “ok, I’m going out for some trash bags and magnums.” “Did you pick up any Magnums?” etc., when you’re actually talking about ice cream (and I’m still about twelve years old in my head).

So today, I was in charge of picking up the magnums, since I’d eaten the last one and Chris was away doing night duty (sitting around the school watching students study for two hours). While I was walking down the street looking for places that sold ice cream, it started pouring rain. I found a place that had ice cream, tea, and wine, and ducked inside. I bought enough magnums to lend credit to the idea that foreigners are inherently bizzarre, unknowable creatures, and the man running the shop wouldn’t let me leave without an umbrella. I didn’t know how to explain in Chinese that walking around in the rain on a hot day is one of my favourite things in the world, and kept trying to communicate that I didn’t need to take his pink floral umbrella. He began to get a little upset, and was probably giving me a lecture about walking around unprotected in the rain wearing sandals (additionally, he might have thought I was pregnant, due to how much ice cream I was buying and the poofy shirt I was wearing), so I took his umbrella, walked back to my apartment, got my own umbrella, and walked back to the ice cream store to return it. I wasn’t sure if it was a gift or a loan, and had a huge moral debate with myself on the walk home as to whether or not I should return it - I never know what’s going to be rude here, and it seemed like failing to accept a present might be a breach of etiquette. On the other hand, the man was really nice and I wanted to buy ice cream from him in the future, which I couldn’t do if I inadvertently stole his umbrella (he took it back without a fuss, so I don’t think I screwed up).

And that’s basically how I’ve been treated in China. People help me out, language barrier be damned. When I was struggling to carry an oven home from Jin Run Fa (my Chinese version of Wal-Mart), total strangers stopped to try to help me. If I don’t have enough small change in a restaurant or at a street food stall, I wind up with a one to four yuan discount. People point when I look lost, help me open doors when I’m pushing instead of pulling, and teach me Chinese words with a smile if I ask (learned umbrella yestereday - yu san). One thing that I will definitely say for China is that it’s a damned hospitable nation.

I guess it’s stating the obvious to say that most Chinese people I’ve met have a MUCH stronger identification with China as a whole than I ever did with the United States, and I think that’s why I get the guest treatment. I’m a guest in their enormous home, and on a daily basis most strangers seem eager to make sure that the guest is happy. The dark side of this, though, is that as far as I can tell, I could live in China for the rest of my life, marry a Chinese man, speak and write the language fluently, and every time I walked down a street, I’d still be a Guest.

Regardless, though, the ice cream tastes good and it was a very sweet gesture.