First Impressions of Shanghai (Mike)

This post was written at the end of the day on August 24th. I wasn’t able to post it immediately after writing it because we hadn’t yet fully established internet access then, but the particular date is important because it marks my first day of navigating Shanghai without Nicki, who was attending a certification class throughout the day.

As many readers probably know, Nicki’s grasp of Chinese is exceptional, but I didn’t realize until this past week just how much she has mastered the language. Like most people who become fluent in a second language as adults, Nicki speaks Chinese with a bit of an accent. In her case, however, the accent is Taiwanese, not American or foreign at all. Indeed, taxi drivers have had trouble finding us after speaking with Nicki on the phone because they are convinced that she is a native Chinese speaker and have no idea that they should be looking for Americans. I don’t think I’ve met—I’m not even sure there exists—a person who has mastered a second language as much as Nicki has mastered Mandarin.

So, I’ve been relying on her almost entirely so far, not only to do heavy-duty things like opening bank accounts or discussing the terms of our apartment lease with our landlord, but even to get food at restaurants and to explain who we are to the guards at our school and apartment complex. Being on my own today was therefore a challenge.

The experience was mixed. My interactions with people were, for the most part, unsuccessful and even embarrassing. The exception was when I met with some colleagues at the school, but those conversations were in English, and I can presuppose a certain amount of sympathy when I do speak Chinese around them since they’re my coworkers and understand why I came to China without knowing the language.

When I tried to order a steamed bun from a local chain for lunch, I couldn’t hope to understand or respond to the cook’s questions; I think that the conclusion of our conversation was that they didn’t have any vegetarian options available. In any case, I walked away bunless. I did manage to get lunch at a café that had items in cases that customers could take themselves. Even in this place, however, I needed an assist from an English-speaking employee. When I ordered a coffee, I had to specify two things: that I wanted it American-style (i.e., drip coffee rather than espresso), and that I wanted it hot rather than cold. I managed the first in Chinese, but my language skills are nowhere close to being able to understand the Chinese-language question that the woman taking my order asked me. Furthermore, I hadn’t yet learned that rè is the Chinese word for ‘hot’. I know it now, though, and the coffee was good enough that I’ll go back to try again without relying on English.

Something similar occurred later. As I was entering our apartment building, a neighbor was walking in and had his hands full with several boxes. I held the door for him, and we had a basic conversation with stock phrases that I do know (“Nĭ hăo.” “Xiè xiè”, i.e., “Hello,” “thank you”). When we entered the elevator, I gestured that I would push the button he needed so that he didn’t have to put down his boxes. I couldn’t understand his response, though, because I hadn’t learned many number words yet. (It turns out that he needed floor 8, but I figured that out only by waving my hand over the buttons until he nodded.) Again, this motivated me to get to work learning new words, and I’m proud to say that I can now count to 10 in Chinese, but the event that provoked my numerical crash course was a bit embarrassing.

The silver lining of experiences like this is that they serve as anchors to remember the associated words. I’ll easily remember words like rè and bā (‘eight’) because I can recall these times when knowing them would have been useful.

Two other incidents were a bit more curious. Although Shanghai is very cosmopolitan, the area where we live and work doesn’t seem to have as many foreigners as the districts closer to the center of the city. In particular, we’re pretty sure that we’re the only non-Chinese residents of our neighborhood, and I’m not sure what our neighbors think about this.

At one point today, a man was waiting outside the elevator in our building as I was getting out of it. He looked at me and said something in Chinese, but I couldn’t understand him. He waved his hand and got in the elevator, and the tone of his speech and demeanor suggested that he wasn’t happy with me being there. Similarly, later in the day, I was walking along the street outside of our building and passed by a woman going in the opposite direction. At the exact moment we passed each other, she spat on the ground. It wasn’t in my direction, and the timing may have been a mere coincidence, but I have had trouble dismissing the gesture as something other than a deliberate expression of disapproval. Similarly, my encounter with the man at the elevator may have been totally benign—but I find that I can’t consistently think of it as such. I’ve been brainstorming ways to make clear to our neighbors that my presence here is legitimate, e.g., by carrying my keys somewhat conspicuously when walking outside so that I’m clearly on my way to lock or unlock our apartment’s front door. I also hope that, before long, word will spread that two perfectly decent Americans who are teaching at a local school have moved in (and one of them speaks impeccable Chinese). The high esteem in which teachers are held in China is admirable in itself and may also help us to ingratiate ourselves to the neighbors.

Of course, these kinds of hostile reactions are things that immigrants to the United States deal with all the time, and often without the kind of support network that I already have in Shanghai. When this thought struck me after my encounter with Elevator Man, I realized that I ought to be sensitive to this throughout my time in China, and it’s a theme to which I plan to return in future posts.

For now, though, it’s time to get to sleep so that I’ll be ready to finish preparing my syllabi tomorrow. My big Chinese challenge will be when the router we ordered gets delivered. I need to pay the carrier for the purchase when he or she arrives, so I can’t just wait for it to be dropped off at the door. It’ll be a good test of how well I can conduct a phone conversation in Chinese, and I’ll report back if anything interesting happens in the process.