This doesn't happen often anymore, although at one time it was a daily occurrence. I'm exercising (that's not the daily occurrence) and the phone rings. I check the number: work? kid? embassy? Nope. It's a number I don't recognize but what the hell, it's not a blocked number so I answer. A voice I don't recognize screams at me joyfully and rapidly for about a minute, then pauses, then asks, "Hao ma?" I stand stunned under the blitzkrieg of sound and tones and blink. The voice repeats, "Hao ma?" ("Ok?") and I stammer, in Chinese, "Please say that again, more slowly." The caller sighs, then launches into the verbal assault again, no slower, just a LOT louder. Then I get it: this person saw me, wrangled my phone number off someone (probably my landlord) and called me in order "to make a foreign friend." This is code for "free English lesson."
In this case, it was my dog groomer: she did a superb job on the Peke's coat, but cut a pair of fat pants on the terrier that look like something you'd choose for a plump niece you secretly hated. (Oh, by the way, Aunt Kathy, thanks for the outfit.) I don't feel I owe anyone friendship because they performed a service for me, particularly one which I paid handsomely for, although I owe them courtesy and kindness because that's just the right thing to do. My refusal to make "new friends" via the telephone is not snobbery, it's just that my time is so very limited. I have two jobs, graduate school, and I live in the butt cheek of Beijing where it's a 45-minute taxi ride just to get cheese. Do I really have time to have people come over where I slowly and painfully make conversation about "This is the pen of my aunt" and "ABC, 123?" No. I don't even have time for a cocktail now and again with good friends--just to manage a dinner party, I have to give up the second job this weekend and I'm only ordering pizza at that.
I dread speaking on the phone in Chinese, as I can't get those non-verbal clues that are really more than half of the conversation. I have to speak loudly for one thing, as my phone is very cheap, and this means anything I say has an automatic audience--either the pretending-they're-not-gay gay couple next door (they're no fun, and have absolutely no sense of style) or worse, anyone walking by when I am forced to speak Chinese in public. I hate the crowd that gathers and listens in, jostling for position as The Foreigner says rapidly and badly, "I do not understand. Please repeat." I also resent being "collected" and labeled as "The Foreign Friend I Made." I think every immigrant has the same dread, of being the token anything. I do have close friends who are Chinese--and South African--and British--and other nationalities. I don't think of them as nationality or ethnicity first--I think of them as friend, then add the other attributes as they come into play. For example--I recall that Gilly keeps kosher and don't have her over for pork chops in cream gravy. That's what I cook for my Texas-born friends. (I don't eat it.) In fact, I use disposable plates and tableware for most guests as a lot of my friends have religious concepts regarding food and drink: they're bending them plenty just to sit down at a table with me, so I try to go the extra mile and cater around their preferences the best I can. They're guests: they're friends: I hope I don't ever stop trying to make guests and friends feel comfortable and happy in my presence.
As I had never met the dog groomer--she deals with my ayi -- I can only surmise that her desire to add my scalp to her belt was motivated out of a kind of curiosity. That's not a bad thing, it's just that I don't have the time to play Foreigner on Parade. As much as I'd love to have a friend nearby, I don't even have the time for the ones in town. Perhaps if I were the New Kid in Town in a less diverse area--for example, some small town in the US--I wouldn't be so quick to say "No" to offers of friendship. But given my record here--Token White Chick--I'm almost grateful for a frantic schedule which precludes adding more friends to an overcrowded dance card.
In this case, it was my dog groomer: she did a superb job on the Peke's coat, but cut a pair of fat pants on the terrier that look like something you'd choose for a plump niece you secretly hated. (Oh, by the way, Aunt Kathy, thanks for the outfit.) I don't feel I owe anyone friendship because they performed a service for me, particularly one which I paid handsomely for, although I owe them courtesy and kindness because that's just the right thing to do. My refusal to make "new friends" via the telephone is not snobbery, it's just that my time is so very limited. I have two jobs, graduate school, and I live in the butt cheek of Beijing where it's a 45-minute taxi ride just to get cheese. Do I really have time to have people come over where I slowly and painfully make conversation about "This is the pen of my aunt" and "ABC, 123?" No. I don't even have time for a cocktail now and again with good friends--just to manage a dinner party, I have to give up the second job this weekend and I'm only ordering pizza at that.
I dread speaking on the phone in Chinese, as I can't get those non-verbal clues that are really more than half of the conversation. I have to speak loudly for one thing, as my phone is very cheap, and this means anything I say has an automatic audience--either the pretending-they're-not-gay gay couple next door (they're no fun, and have absolutely no sense of style) or worse, anyone walking by when I am forced to speak Chinese in public. I hate the crowd that gathers and listens in, jostling for position as The Foreigner says rapidly and badly, "I do not understand. Please repeat." I also resent being "collected" and labeled as "The Foreign Friend I Made." I think every immigrant has the same dread, of being the token anything. I do have close friends who are Chinese--and South African--and British--and other nationalities. I don't think of them as nationality or ethnicity first--I think of them as friend, then add the other attributes as they come into play. For example--I recall that Gilly keeps kosher and don't have her over for pork chops in cream gravy. That's what I cook for my Texas-born friends. (I don't eat it.) In fact, I use disposable plates and tableware for most guests as a lot of my friends have religious concepts regarding food and drink: they're bending them plenty just to sit down at a table with me, so I try to go the extra mile and cater around their preferences the best I can. They're guests: they're friends: I hope I don't ever stop trying to make guests and friends feel comfortable and happy in my presence.
As I had never met the dog groomer--she deals with my ayi -- I can only surmise that her desire to add my scalp to her belt was motivated out of a kind of curiosity. That's not a bad thing, it's just that I don't have the time to play Foreigner on Parade. As much as I'd love to have a friend nearby, I don't even have the time for the ones in town. Perhaps if I were the New Kid in Town in a less diverse area--for example, some small town in the US--I wouldn't be so quick to say "No" to offers of friendship. But given my record here--Token White Chick--I'm almost grateful for a frantic schedule which precludes adding more friends to an overcrowded dance card.
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