Or, said quickly: Pan Chelsea
So the title means Pan Qiao Xi (Chelsea Pyne) pulls another stunt.
In a way, I'm used to being the minority. Often I've been the only female on the team or American in my group of European friends. And I've always stood out, but never quite like being the lanky, green-eyed girl surround by millions of dark heads.
I was warned before I arrived in China that people would want a photo. I thought, "great, this will be hilarious." And it was, to a point. It happened quite often that I couldn't keep a straight face when my bright, bulbous eyes caught people by surprise. We both shocked each other to an extent.
But the stares became exhausting. I guess because when American men stare at me, it’s because they like me or they don't like me. Or it’s possible I’ve got some leftover ice cream on my face. Either way, their interest in me can become unnerving.
In China, the men (and women and children) have an innocent curiosity. But I cant help but feel just a little bit violated by their gaze. If I lived in a city of 10 million tall, big-eyed, white faces and had a tiny Chinaman wander through my streets, I’d probably stop too. I might even call out “Ni Hao!” and giggle and run when he responded with a polite hello.
But the staring became exhausting because I had to stare back. And for longer. Because after a few seconds it turns into a contest of respect. “I’m not afraid of you.” “What you looking at?” “You looking at me?” “Nope, I’m looking at you. All the way home. Go on. Git.”
It’s funny because they’re not looking at me because I’m picking my nose in public (which is totally normal in China), but because I have light hair. I have to assume it is my hair, because even when I wore my sunnies they knew I was foreigner– and they started creeping hard.
Anyways, a lot of my time was devoted to this don’t blink or look away first contest. I wanted to make the onlooker feel the same uncomfortableness. He would look away, and then glance back. Catch my steady gaze, turn away again. Sneak one last look just to see that I’m still on fire. Finally, he would retreat back to his day.
The men were bad with their gaze, but the women at least knew how to give a compliment.
“Where you from?”
“USA.”
“Ok, I know it. You very beautiful.”
“Yes,” I agreed.
The people, however many, are truly kind. Chinese people are sort of like onions. Sometimes they are so pungent and seemingly unsweet that after a good whiff I want to cry. The constant spitting and yelling ("talking") is overwhelming. I’ve seen enough women squat down and let it rain in front of me. The men like to lift up their shirts and cool off their big bellies in the middle of the mall or train station or wherever they see fit. I can't help but draw back my face in disgust. Not to be rude, but reflexes– you know. On the other hand, after I had spent time with individuals, they became caramelized into the sweetest and most accommodating people I've met.
Once I peeled back the rough exterior and got down into their layers, the air started smelling more of the sweetest monk tea fragrance and less of smog.
I had so many Chinese friends and strangers go far out of their way to make sure I got whatever I needed. A bus, a meal, a ticket, a translation, a beer. Didn’t matter, they really meant well and did their best to help out this giant goofy girl. Granted, I usually ended up doing them a favor as well.
“Ok, Ok. Picture?”
“Sure. Say Cheeseeee.”
Silence.
We review the picture, they nod.
“I am very beautiful,” I tell them.
They smile at me blankly and say thank you and bye bye.
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| This is the owner of a famous restaurant in the capital of Hunan. She gave us a huge bag of egg rice krispies to take home for breakfast. Weird, but good. |
My dad and I had lost our friend Kurt in the Zhangjiaije National Forest Park. This park is ginormous. We were separated and told to meet at a certain mountain entrance. Of course, we got off at the wrong bus stop. I flagged down another bus and got off at a different bus stop (still not the one we needed). We were put on a third bus headed in the opposite direction, and alas, got off at the wrong stop again. It was here we decided to frantically search for our friend, or find a way to contact him.
I approached a long line of people to see if Kurt was waiting among them. I had to step up onto a platform and poke my head out a window to look over a crowd. As I did, I ascended over a group of 30 school children in bright blue jumpsuits. They looked like a gymnastics team.
It took but .5 seconds for a little girl to spot me. Almost breathlessly, she said “wooowww” when she saw me. She even did a little hand gesture like she was forming a rainbow in front of her. When her classmates heard and saw her, they also looked up.
In a choir of awe, they stared excitedly at me. Taken aback, I quickly smiled and shouted, “Ni hao!” They erupted. Cheers took over and I felt like Britney Spears on her comeback tour.
They screamed Ni Hao back to me and one little boy pushed his way to the front of his Olympic-bound team. He pointed to me and said “You cheerreader?” No… I shook my head, “Wo shi bu cheerleader.” Their disappointment was almost palpable.
Never have I regretted a word so much. If only my parents had given me pompoms as a child, damn it! However, I still think the encounter wasn't a total loss. But the boy's hurt was obvious as he slunk away, no longer interested in me.
There was another girl who was dressed in traditional Chinese garments. She donned a bright pink top and long, flowy skirt with silver headwear. Her hair was straight black that reached her bum– as was fashionable back in the day. Of course, she was just working the 9-5 and wanted 20 RMB for a photo. Although I did not want this, I nodded to her “No thank, but very pretty.” To which she replied very seriously, “You’re very beautiful.” To which I replied, even more seriously, and incorporated a point to emphasis my words, “No, you’re beautiful.” Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as she giggled hysterically.
I never knew I was so funny or beautiful until I came to China.
One girl we met followed me on Instagram. After I returned to censorship-free Saint Martin, I was able to check out her account. I really loved seeing a photo of us together in a random cave in China. Even though all we knew about her was that she spoke English from working in a Hooters in Shanghai– at least we have that memory recorded in a selfie.
^My friends who made China great. My experience in China was a thousand times better thanks to their invaluable information and kindness.
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