I’m staring at the little TV screen across the subway car. It’s a video recipe. Baked apple stuffed with shrimp. Ew. What? Never mind. I’ll just play Tetris on my phone. I bend my head. And…okay I’m now stuck in this position forever. A woman has seen my head leave its resting spot in the air and she’s claimed that space for her shopping bag. I crane my neck to avoid colliding with her cabbage. Only twenty-five more minutes left in my route.
Unsurprisingly, the Beijing subway has proven to be the best place to reflect on my cultural experiences while simultaneously generating new ones. The duality of my 外国人 (foreigner) status is blatant. On one hand there’s no escaping the fact that I’m usually the only white person in the subway car; a fact I’m unable to ignore given the amount of times I’ve realized the woman next to me is brazenly taking my picture. But on the other hand, amidst the throng of Chinese subway-goers, the little foreign student is just an inconsequential being with no responsibilities or loyalties to anyone in the car. I’m given license to stare, and through this I’m given the opportunity to learn.
*visibly uncomfortable*
Perhaps the biggest hurdle I’ve had to overcome since my arrival is learning how to effectively take up space in public. Funnily enough, a crowd of people in Beijing bears a striking resemblance to a family enjoying their Sunday night pot roast. There’s a lot of moving pieces, and if you’re not willing to stab cousin Grace in the hand with a fork, then you’re just not going to get to the potatoes in time. Similarly, it’s borderline impossible to reach your intended destination in the city without a few casualties on the way. It would be comical if it didn’t make you so indignant. To provide an example: there are security screenings at the entrance of every subway station, where you drop off your handbag on a conveyor belt and wait for it to come out on the other side. Multiple times, I have had people behind me in line shove their bag so it gets on the belt before my bag; all the while waiting in line behind me so I can walk through first. Naturally, their bag goes through the belt and lies there unattended- but at least they managed to get it in before mine, right? Not to be hyperbolic, but this is truly the most ridiculous thing that has ever happened to me in a public arena.
And yet what each of these curious experiences does, is provide you with more clues on how to navigate your new environment. I remember the first time I chose to order handmade dumplings at a restaurant. There was no line, just a mess of arms, cell phones and wads of cash. The mere prospect of this 外国人 reaching the counter and meekly pointing at the food she wanted was enough to twist up my stomach. I left. But last week I walked right back in with exact change and my order written down on an app on my phone. I yelled it out in as commanding a tone I could muster and just waited for my dumplings to appear. And after glaring at the young man behind the counter for twenty minutes, they did. Granted, instead of submerging my pork dumplings in vinegar and chili oil like they do for everyone else, they gave me separate sauce packets in order to spare my fragile, white taste buds. But the point is, I took up space. The Chinese way.