Wait just a booger-picking minute

(Some random thoughts I had on my last day in China two weeks ago, that I didn't get a chance to complete)

I am sitting in a Guangzhou (Canton) Dairy Queen furnished in the style of a Starbucks. Posted on the second floor is a no smoking sign. There are no ashtrays. Yet, I’m the only customer not smoking.

Today is my last day in the mainland. It’s been 113 days. Yes, I’ve been counting. I’m trying to reify what I’ve learned. To be frank, not much, in so far as China is concerned.

I’ve learned that I am simply not the Swiss army knife of cultural adaptability. Hell, I’m not even the dollar knock-off version the street vendor is selling with the DVDs outside my hotel. I can adapt in some ways, but I realize I have no intrinsic desire to “go native.”

I carry America around with me. I seek refuge in places that remind me of the same level of lard-ass comfort. I go to Guangzhou for a day and end up watching “Superman Returns” in a supermodern Cineplex, after hunting down a Slurpee and the local gourmet version of Pizza Hut.

After this four month tour, I have to reexamine my interests. I don’t think I’m particularly interested in Culture X qua Culture X. I might like Culture X’s music and add it to my play list. I might like Culture Y’s food and add it to my digest list. I might like Culture Z’s women and…no, no, every woman is a snow flake (At least that’s what I have to say that so Culture A’s women don’t get totally pissed with me).

My curiosity isn’t fixated on any particular culture, though through the limitations of language my exposure is selective. It’s about examining what are human universals and what are not. It is about finding the oddities, where the difference vives.

If Booger of “Revenge of the Nerds” wanted to find a different nickname, my studies of comparative nose picking suggest he ought to come to Beijing. On a couple occasions I have been witness to mid-conversation attempts at clearing nasal blockages. It’s inspiring really, people being so comfortable with their bodies. They ought to have a play called the Schnoz Monologues (or to give a Mandarin sound, which sounds just as appropriate, the Bizi Monologues).

On the other, less booger-y hand, I’m thinking to write to the World Health Organization to suggest a campaign for the abolition of the handshake. I’m thinking that the Thai custom would be a more than suitable replacement, lacking the hierarchical mindset of the Japanese bow.

From a financial perspective, I think my experience in China has helped me to be more conscious of bargaining, whereas I have generally not been savvy. I think that from now on I will be far more likely to ask for discounts particularly when it comes to services or big ticket items. I will be more likely to just walk away rather than accept a given price.

Sometimes or most times I just let things slide when a business messes up. But particularly after being intentionally overcharged, I am inclining towards the raising of holy hell and dogged firmness.

In Guilin in the South of China I was charged double or more of the price for a simple meal of noodles and a Coca-Cola in a toilet-paper-“napkin”-class restaurant. The waitress thought I couldn’t read any Chinese. I know it enough to have a foggy idea what I’m getting; the problem is that even if I knew the meaning every character, I would be unfamiliar with the dish I would be getting. What galled me was that she was extra-smiley throughout my meal. The only thing stopping me from getting the menu and calling her on the overcharge was that I was happy enough there was no egg or meat mysteriously materializing in my noodle soup.