A Fat Chinese Person is a Normal American
On returning home, one of the first differences that struck me between the US and China was the size of the people. Americans are big. They’re taller, stronger, fatter, just… bigger all around. In China, you go to the store, and it’s packed with people who all look like super thin supermodels. There’s not a single fat person to be found anywhere.
Well, fat Chinese people do exist, they’re just very rare. I only saw one or two truly obese people the entire time I was there. Maybe it’s their diet (of KFC and ice cream) or all the walking they do, or maybe Asians just got lucky in that sense. But not everyone is scarily thin. Some of my students were obviously spoiled and well-fed, and, in the summer, the men do like to roll their shirts up to reveal their beer guts.
Because the majority of people are thin, though, they have a twisted view of what normal weight is. Anybody who has any bit of meat on them is labeled fat, and the only thing that garners more chuckling and pointing than a white person getting on the bus is an obese person. It’s sad how a beautiful Chinese girl by American standards faces constant ridicule for being “chunky,” and it’s sad how people have no qualms about informing said girl she needs to lose weight.
This is the part I will never understand about China. Why is it acceptable for people, even first acquaintances, to tell others they’re fat, that they need to lose weight, that they need to eat less, that their boyfriends will never love them if they continue to eat so much? Yes, these are all common jabs. Even more obnoxious is how my students would always refer to their slightly bigger classmate as “the fat one.” Those kids loved pointing out fat people. It was an obsession.
Apologists like to bring up that China is simply a more open society. And that’s definitely true. Frequent comments were made about my acne and my big nose and even my lack of weight. Open or not, though, if you call somebody fat, even a Chinese person, you run the risk of hurting their feelings. Nobody likes being reminded of their physical flaws. Remember the “chunky” but beautiful Chinese girl? Yeah, her feelings get hurt, too.
Smokers are a Special Kind of Asshole
I never did like cigarette smoke (which classifies me as normal), but after being in China for an extended period of time, I’ve adapted a very strong, physical intolerance towards it. This problem has been one part Chinese cigarettes smell like smoldering crap and one part smoking is everywhere. It’s to the point now that if the smell is too thick, I get teary-eyed and start gagging and dry-heaving. Needless to say, I spend much of my free time on the verge of throwing up. Thanks, smoking douchebags!
Don’t worry, this isn’t going to turn into a moral lesson on why it’s important to quit. I understand smoking is a free choice. I also realize that, if we’re in a public, open area, making a scene out of a smoker’s habit makes me look like the asshole. What pisses me off is how so many smokers in China knowingly and apathetically ignore No Smoking signs, particularly indoors where the smoke doesn’t dissipate but just lingers forever. You already know my feelings about this, though. I’ve complained about it enough times.
When someone starts smoking in a place they’re not supposed to, nobody says anything. Too many people are of the mindset that bad people are bad people, and you should just let them be. After reading so many stories in the newspaper about Chinese citizens beating each other to death over silly issues of personal shame, maybe not getting involved really is the best solution. Nevertheless, it drives me crazy, especially since I, not being fluent and always fearing retaliation, am too scared to be the one to take a stand. But I have my limits, and they’ve been pushed many times.
When I finally do decide to call smokers out on their rule-breaking behavior, I am always surprised by their willingness to completely ignore me or treat me like an idiot. They will actually try to hide their lit cigarette from me, thinking that if I can’t see it, then there’s no harm done! A few of the other guys I’ve confronted simply said, “I know I can’t smoke here,” before taking another puff and showing no intention of stopping. Wow. All of my anxieties over talking to people about their smoking were true.
I went rollerskating a few nights ago. They have No Smoking signs posted everywhere, probably because the ashes could ruin the hardwood floor, and probably because nobody wants to inhale nasty cigarette smoke when they’re doing sports. One guy didn’t care and was sitting on the side, right underneath the sign, blowing smoke in my face every time I skated past. Three times, I told him (in Chinese) that he couldn’t smoke here. Every time, he’d say, “I know,” but do nothing about it. Even after I smacked the cigarette out of his hand, he lit another one as soon as I left.
Before things turned to fisticuffs, a few other guys stopped skating to join the light up, and I knew the only way I was going to restore peace was to inform the attendant. I hate being a nark (and I rue the day my middle school classmates realized nark rhymes with Clark), but this was getting ridiculous. This needed to stop. I know smoking is sort of a Chinese tradition, as apologists like to note, but when businesses establish rules to help propagate healthy changes, people need to pay attention. Assholes included. And out they went.
My Other Carry-On is Swine Flu
The scope of the swine flu in China is much smaller than it is in the US (500 cases compared to over 21,000), but the response has been drastically different. Even when there were just a few reported cases in faraway provinces, people here were pretty nervous about the virus and had resolved never to go to the Americas, where the flu was surely laying waste to major cities one right after another. The Chinese government is even quaranting random travelers coming into China, as though my family’s summer plans haven’t been riddled with enough problems already.
Sometimes it feels like the hysteria is a bit uncalled for, but then maybe it just hasn’t become personal yet. A foreign couple I know went on a Yangtze River cruise last week and ended up on the same boat as a group of California high school students. While on the boat, some of those students exhibited signs of the flu and were whisked off to a hospital where the infection was confirmed. My friends’ travel agency went wild trying to locate these two foreigners from Changzhou in order to verify their health. Luckily, they’re fine, but I’m surprised they were able to just walk away considering the government hasn’t wanted to take any chances.
New Job, New Visa, New Medical Exam
Finding a new teaching job in China turned into a much bigger hassle than I had planned on. The good news is, the fight is over, and if the 12 hours of sleep I got last night is any indication, I’m feeling pretty relieved. The contract I signed with a local high school may not have been what I was hoping for, but this close to my visa’s expiration date, why argue?
They actually gave me the job last week. I’ve just held off on announcing it, because there was still a lot to do to secure my new residence permit, including getting a letter of recommendation from my current school (you know, the school that hasn’t been of any help the past two months) and a new health certificate from the clinic. I’ve spent the last week running all over Changzhou, trying to fill these requests. I’m so burned out, 12 hours of sleep may not have been enough.
Originally, the high school asked for a copy of my health certificate from last year’s medical exam. The clinic really dragged its feet on this request, though, saying my old certificate had already expired and had been “filed.” But this was what the school wanted, so I finally told them to call the school’s foreign affairs representative and talk to him directly. On the phone, he replied, “I never asked for that.”
I ended up having to pay for a new exam and go through all the uncomfortable tests again, meanwhile baffled by the school’s change of heart concerning the old certificate. My Chinese friend, who accompanied me to the hospital, thought maybe the school was only trying to save its relationship with the clinic, since asking them to dig up my old records would have been such an “inconvenience.” And business relationships are very important in China! The clinic was very adamant about not being able to use the old certificate, anyway, though my friend also thinks they just wanted to make me pay for a new one (700 RMB). I’m inclined to believe him.
Now that I finally have Fall semester figured out, I’m still left with nothing solid to do over the summer. I’m going to travel in August and will probably work at a training school again in July, but before I came to that conclusion, I asked my current school if I could stay here for a few more weeks. I even offered to pay 1,000 RMB for the apartment that is otherwise going to collect dust over the summer. Not surprisingly, they said no. Wow. They really want nothing to do with me once our contract ends! I’m not sure who will say “good riddance” first.
The Hospital Waiting Game
I went to the hospital yesterday for a checkup. Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong with me now that wasn’t already wrong with me before leaving for China. I asked my supervisor if she could find a doctor who spoke English, so nobody would have the uncomfortable task of translating my personal problems to the only guy who really needed to know. The following week, as the two of us walked into the hospital, she turned to me and asked, “So can you explain your problem to the doctor in Chinese?”
She ended up with the uncomfortable task of translating my personal problems to the only guy who really needed to know. And now the two of us can never look at each other the same again.
Anyone who stays in China longer than a month week day will probably have to go to the hospital, and, oh boy, it’s a fun experience. It can easily turn into an all-day ordeal, since you’re not allowed to make appointments ahead of time. It’s first come, first serve, and people are still trying to cut in front of you at every opportunity. I found it amusing, too, that, when I went into the doctors’ office, none of them looked very busy. In fact, one of the doctors was playing Solitaire on the computer. And you thought they only pulled that gag in the movies.
The bottom floor of the hospital was like a bank with several cashier windows. Every time there was new insight into my checkup, we were sent back to the cashier to pay for the next treatment/examination/medicine. The overall process cost me 500 RMB, or about $70. That’s pretty good, considering I don’t have health insurance here, and back home, the co-pays and prescriptions would have run about the same. For China, though, these checkups are considered expensive. My supervisor said she had to pay 1,000 RMB just to have a cold treated. Some people barely make that much in a month! If hospital visits run such a high gamut, it makes you wonder why everyone is so eager to head to the doctor whenever they get sick.
The nice thing about being at a Chinese hospital is that everyone’s so preoccupied with their own illnesses, they don’t much care that a foreigner is in their midst.
Gotta Get Some of that Fresh Chinese Air!
Back home, I would only get sick maybe two times a year, which is kind of odd, since I’m not opposed to sharing food and taking naps on the floor. So when I do get sick, even just a cold, it usually puts me out. Lucky me, in China, I’m getting sick on an almost monthly basis. I just got over another cold, but I sort of deserved this one. I mean, what do you expect will happen when you pass out flashcards to a bunch of dirty ten-year olds, collect them again, and take them home with you? The cards, not the kids.
There are a lot of theories about why people get sick. One of the most common ones seems to be that you’re not getting enough fresh air. The solution to this is to open a window, despite that it might be rainy or windy or rattling cold outside and regardless if the building is trying to run the heater or air conditioner. My friends who work at training schools tell me how they have to keep shutting the windows after the Chinese tutors keep opening them, because it’s too cold to justify “fresh air.” And yet this is what the fresh air everyone’s always talking about actually looks like:
To be fair, some of that is probably natural, but there’s no denying pollution is a serious problem. Nothing staves off a cold better than the heavy, collective smell of cigarette smoke, car exhaust, construction dust, and human waste that permeates through a big Chinese city. Mmmm, mmmm!
China is a Smoker’s Paradise
This picture is amusing. They labeled the entrance to the mens’ restroom with a picture of a pipe. Inside, there is a no-smoking sign. But nobody in China ever pays attention to those things. I think businesses just hang them up, because they like the look of the little cigarette with a red line through it. They don’t really want people to stop smoking. And who has enough decency to put out their cigarette, anyway? In China, the non-smoker is the outcast who has to accommodate to everyone else. So what if you’re at the arcade, surrounded by kids, or at the hospital, surrounded by sick people, or on a stuffy train where fresh air is already dangerously low. People don’t give a second thought about lighting up.
And it drives me absolutely crazy.
I hate smoking. I can’t stand it. And so it’s very hard for me to get used to this country where it’s more socially acceptable to have a cigarette in your mouth than a toothpick. I mean, I’ve been told that 60% of Chinese men smoke (while only 3% of women do). Read some of these statistics; it’ll make you never want to come here. Honestly, the smoking issue is reason enough why I couldn’t live in China forever. Chinese cigarettes simply stink too damn much. They smell sooooo bad, far worse than American cigarettes. It makes me gag every time.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like much is being done to fix the problem. Very few places enforce no-smoking rules, regardless if signs are posted. Young people continue to pick up the habit. There’s no push to inform the masses how unhealthy it is. In fact, a lot of them think there are benefits to smoking. And since you can buy a pack of cigarettes for as little as 5 RMB (though nicer ones run into the hundreds), it doesn’t really set you back much. What have you got to lose? Besides 1.2 million Chinese people a year, that is.
Sick Teacher Needs an IV
I’ve had a miserable cold for the past many days. Coincidence would have it that the book’s dialogue this week is about having a stomach ache or a headache or just being plum ill. As difficult as it is teaching with a sore throat, it’s been kind of amusing, too. I play Tic-Tac-Toe with the students to help them build sentences like, “Amy’s got a cough,” or, “Sam’s got a sore foot.” I always throw myself into the game as a joke, so the kids end up saying, “Mr. Nielsen’s got a headache,” and I nod and smile and say to myself, “Yep. I sure do. I sure do…”
When I admit to others (or they just notice; it isn’t hard) that I’m sick, though, their first suggestion is to go see a doctor. I’ve noticed the people here are very quick to run to the hospital whenever something is wrong, even if it’s just a cold. Back home, you would never bother a doctor over a cold, or if you did, all he/she would tell you is that you need to drink more water and get some rest. In China, the answer to everything is an IV. You have a cold? Here’s an IV. You have food poisoning? Here’s an IV. Your leg is caught in a bear trap? Here’s an IV.
I’ve had this miracle IV before when I was sick in Wuwei, and while it probably played a big part in my speedy recovery, I don’t particularly like sitting in a dirty, smelly hospital room full of sick people who all have a needle stuck in their wrist and a bottle hanging over their head. I’ll take my chances with my own immune system, thank you very much.
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