You Want Culture? Yeah, I’ve got your culture right
here. Take a line—180º—and visualize American and Chinese cultures on opposite
ends, then there are a few places in between. Our newest friend from Xi’an, Zhou
Zhenglv, chatted me up on WeChat (a smart phone app that I’m slowly getting
used to) that my MoWest colleagues were getting anxious to read more about what
I am experiencing. Well, it’s been a month now, and during that time I thought
I’d let the wave of it flow over me, savor it, and then try to put it all in
some kind of order. So here we go, from the soothing and simple, to a mild
reminder of how easy it is to be U.S.-centric, and lastly to the sublime.
Of the many things I wish to cross
off my to-do list as an American in China, one is to drink more green tea and
less coffee. I had heard about a tea shop across the main highway and wanted to
go, so our friend, Tiantian, took me there one day. The experience was relaxing
and informative, yet also allowed me to just “be” and take it in. One tea shop?
No. The mall had a whole wing’s worth of amazing shops. They sparkle and shine.
They’re filled with clay tea pots, porcelain tea pots, hand-crafted tea pots, large,
small, glass tea cup sets, strainers, heating pots, tongs--enough bric-a-brac
and tea sets to dazzle and make even the person least interested in buying a
tea set (that would be me) want to shell out a few hundred Yuan just to have
one. Beautiful stuff. Of course, there are the tea varieties that range in
quality—extremely expensive puer tea (from 300 year old tea trees) to the much
less expensive, but very pleasant, flowered jasmine tea. Yes, I may not have
bought into the pitch that a small brick of puer tea from the old tree was
worth me shelling out 1,000 Yuan (about $160), and I’m not much for
accumulating “stuff,” so I didn’t buy a tea set, but I did end up buying plenty
of lesser-quality-but-still-very-good puer, green, and jasmine flower teas.
As Tiantian and I roamed the halls
and peered through glass doors and windows, the man pictured beckoned us into
his place, inviting us to sit and talk and simply pass some time. I was
hesitant because I had already purchased a few grams of tea from another shop
and didn’t want to insult him by sampling his teas and then leave without
buying anything. Tiantian assured me it was the custom to sit and enjoy and not
to worry. I wish I remembered the proprietor’s name because he was pleasant and
funny and warm and, I think, happy to have an American sitting with him. I
liked him almost immediately. In his shop he only carried puer tea, which he
explained was the real deal from ancient trees maintained and cultivated by the
ancestors. I asked about caffeine content (he didn’t laugh) and he was taken aback
for a moment, as if that was something with which to be concerned. He went on
to say that puer has less caffeine than, and the medicinal properties far
outweigh, what is found in green tea. His tea lowered blood pressure,
had more anti-oxidants, and even helped stop male-patterned baldness. I was
sold. I’m now drinking more tea and taking fewer trips to Starbucks.
Then there are the KTVs. Where to
start with them, eh? Over the past few weeks, whenever I went anywhere with
anyone, I kept seeing signs like New World KTV or Sunshine (committee?) KTV,
and some others. I honestly thought they were television stations until
Tiantian informed me they were karaoke establishments. Oh! Oh, oh, oh goody. However,
they’re nothing like the karaoke bars we find in the states. These places are
clubs that are laid out like hotels, with waiters dressed like bellboys (complete with vests and white gloves),
beautiful receptionists greeting patrons at the reservation desk (yes, you have
to have a reservation for karaoke), private singing rooms, sparkling disco-ball
lights, polished floors, glass and brass and overpriced beverages.
A group of wonderful young graduate
students who are part of the Xidian University debate team invited me for an
afternoon of karaoke. How could I turn that down? Chen, the president of the
team, and Summer, John, and Simon booked three hours during a late afternoon. After
the initial pleasantries, John, in a sort of non sequitur, asked about my
favorite NBA team. I told him I am a Lakers fan. He said, “Kobe Bryant!” “Yes,” I said, “and Magic Johnson and Kareem...”
to a blank look. I can’t imagine his look any blanker if I’d said Wilt
Chamberlain and Jerry West, so I asked him about his favorite player. Lebron
James, of course. So, John has challenged me to a game of 21. I accepted (the glutton
for punishment that I am). It should be fun. I liked them all, immediately. Their
ease around me made me feel welcomed and wanted, despite the age difference. Even
though I thought I’d stay for an hour, maybe two, and then head back to the
apartment, I spent the whole time with them. It was a blast.
Imagine this: being in a 10x12 foot darkened
room, with multi-colored lights moving in patterns over the walls. A wide
screen TV is a few feet in front of a comfy couch, an electronic, touch-screen
monitor is to the left. Thousands of karaoke videos are at the singers’
fingertips, 90% of the lyrics in Chinese. A waiter comes in, drops off some
bottles of sweetened tea, a couple of bags of peanuts, and a plate or two of
popcorn.
That
was the beginning. The waiter tried to up-sell us on alcohol or sodas, but, of
course, being students, my four hosts were content on the freebies. I offered
to buy anything they wanted, but they would not hear of it. I was their guest. I
could pay the next time (which I have found out is the way everyone gets around
splitting checks). The waiter gave us two wireless microphones and left the
room. Chen sat at the monitor and scrolled through the offerings. Everything
was in Chinese. I asked if there was anything in English, you know, by
Americans. Yes. He flipped through the screen—Usher, Eminem, Shakira, Lil
Wayne, P. Diddy, and quite a few others, names that I knew, but their music?
Ummm…No. Phew! I was not going to have to sing. He kept scrolling. Ah. There we
go. Michael Bolton and Don McLean and John Denver. All right, so I did sing. Not
a bad rendition of Michael Bolton’s version of Otis Redding’s “Sittin’ on the
Dock of the Bay” if I do say so myself.
Most
everything that afternoon was sung by my companions. Chen loves to sing and
sings everything with gusto. John has a nice voice for ballads and love songs
(I explained what a ballad is). Summer has a lovely, sweet voice. Simon and I
had our moments in a duet of “Take Me Home, Country Roads.” Yet, the highlight of the day (for me, not
for them) was what turned out to be a sort of dueling karaoke. Another example can be found here. (You
MUST click and watch. I mean it. Eyes wide, I held my chin up with the palm of
my hand much like I did the first time I saw “What Does the Fox Say?”.)
Like
I said, in between those two gems there was my failed attempt at “American
Pie.” You see, I thought they’d all be
interested to know what the song meant. I thought, yeah, they’re gonna want to
know the significance of moss growing fat on a rolling stone. What is a lonely
teenaged bronc’n’ buck? Can music save
your mortal soul? But all I got was John telling me he likes the blues. I explained
the roots to him. Nothing else seemed to stand out for them in Don McLean’s
lyrics, though, and I knew I was SOL the day the music died.
However, I wasn’t too deflated. No. The afternoon was filled with hours of
amazing videos, most of them filmed in China, Taiwan, Korea, and other gorgeous
areas of Asia. There were humorous songs, upbeat/fun songs, and love songs with
beautiful people, all very much like our Youtube music videos. I took it all in
and thoroughly enjoyed my time with my new friends and look forward to more
unique moments with everyone I have met so far and will meet in the months to
come.
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