A New House for a New Year

The neighborhood is abuzz with the news of the little foreigner (小老外) moving into town. When I got up this morning to go to the public toilet, I was stopped by people on the street to ask if I was all moved in to my new house. One of the shop owners called out to me, "Hey, you're not wearing the hat that you bought from me! Aren't you cold?" As I was walking back, Grandpa Cao called out to me from his tiny chair on the side of the street surrounded by his caged birds: "I heard you moved here!" I responded with an affirmative and asked him if he knew my roommate, Xie Rui. "She and I live together," I told him, and he nodded in approval.

One of my mahjong friends, Grandma Tang, asked, "Will you be going home to celebrate the Spring Festival [Chinese New Year]?" I responded that I'd be staying in Nanjing for the Spring Festival because Americans don't celebrate that holiday, so going home in the middle of January would actually be quite meaningless. Besides I couldn't afford the plane ticket. She was shocked. "You don't celebrate the Spring Festival?? That's terrible!" I explained that we celebrated Christmas and the Western New Year instead. She still couldn't believe that we didn't celebrate something as important as the Spring Festival. Her friend responded that it was terrible that I couldn't afford the ticket, and that earning money is bitter and laborious (For my Chinese speakers, she said "苦钱," which means 辛苦的挣钱 in the Nanjing dialect).

My friends in the neighborhood all knew I was moving, of course, since most of them either helped me find a house or helped me move. There is often a lot of neighborhood gossip, since people frequently will tell me things in a whisper about other people's family situations, and it seems like I've been the hot topic these days; everyone knows about me moving to Old Nanjing.

Many of them don't understand why I moved into an old house (老房子), though they usually nod in agreement after I explain to them that I'm researching the culture and social behavior of the people of Old Nanjing to better understand how urban reconstruction affects Chinese society. They always agree when I say that high-rise apartment buildings changes interpersonal relationships and I'm investigating this change. I explain I want to better understand the person-to-person relations (guanxi, 关系) in Old Nanjing, which I can only do if I myself am a member and resident of the community and can personally witness the affects of demolition on residents' day-to-day lives. Luckily my friends now understand this really well (they've heard my schpeal probably more times than they would like), so they will explain in the dialect or in better Chinese than me if we are together and someone asks me. At first this annoyed me because I wanted to explain myself, but then I realized that they can explain it better in a way that other residents can more easily accept, so I always let them explain for me if it's appropriate.


 

I am now known by most as the "little foreigner" 小老外, though my friends call me by my Chinese name or according to the appropriate family address, usually "little sister" if they are older or "auntie" if they are younger. When I was walking by Grandma Wang's shop this morning, two of the little 5-year-old neighborhood girls, Katie and Hannah, referred to me as "little foreigner." Grandma Wang scolded them saying, "You really shouldn't call her that. Call her 'auntie.' You're old enough to know this by now." They just giggled and sped away on their scooters.

One of the funny things about moving into the neighborhood is that it takes longer to do everything--eat, go to the bathroom, practice qi gong, shower, grocery shopping--because I get stopped everywhere I go to have a conversation about who I am and why I am here. Where I lived before on the Nanjing University campus, I was one of hundreds (maybe thousands...) of foreigners and no one even blinked an eye at my presence. Here I am pretty much it as far as daily foreigner-sightings go. As annoying as it can be sometimes, these little moments are exactly the reason why I moved. 

Moving not only shows my neighbors that I'm serious about becoming a part of the community, but the little conversations as a part of my daily life will allow me to make more friends, connections and relationships with the residents, even if it's just during my daily routine. For example, when I went to check out the shower house with my friend and neighbor, the receptionist asked what I was doing here, and my friend explained that I was here researching the culture of Old Nanjing, and we got in a lively discussion about it. It also gives opportunities to chat with locals, or even just to overhear a conversation, on a daily basis. I'm constantly collecting data. When I was practicing qi gong in the park today, I overheard a conversation between two middle-aged men: "Are you on vacation these days for the Western new year?" His friend replied, "Ha! What a joke, taking a vacation for the Western new year. That's not our tradition as Chinese. We shouldn't celebrate this holiday." When I was waiting at the bus stop eating a steamed bun, a woman asked, "Do you have the same kind of food in America? Is it the same price or is it more expensive here?" and we had a conversation about how the food is actually quite different in America (sadly, McDonald's was the only example I could give her that she understood). People are fascinated by me and I can usually incorporate something about urban reconstruction if our conversation lasts long enough. The men and women at the breakfast, lunch, and dinner carts and in the grocery markets already know me by name and I'm slowly learning their names and their stories (how many kids, where they are from, if they like their jobs, how much money the make, ect). It's fascinating.  

I'm pretty excited because I'm picking up the local dialect pretty fast. The dialect, Nanjinghua, has picked up really heavy influences from Mandarin in recent years and the locals say that they are just speaking Mandarin with a Nanjing accent. I have to disagree with this because my Chinese friends from other cities say they can't understand anything that's being said in Nanjinghua. Although I wouldn't call Nanjinghua a completely different language, since people do use a lot of words from Mandarin, it still has a different grammar structure, tones, and vocabulary. Good thing I'm picking it up fast since Xie Rui's mom, my landlord, only speaks Nanjinghua. If I don't understand what she's saying, Xie Rui will translate it into Mandarin for me, and then yell at her mom for speaking in the dialect. I didn't even realize I was picking it up that much until I realized that I now incorporate parts of the dialect in my head when I'm thinking in Chinese. I can now tell if someone is originally from Nanjing or not by the way they talk. It's going to be a while until I can really speak it fluently (I can only say a couple of words and phrases), but I can understand more and more each day.

I went back to my original apartment today to get my bike. I gave my awesome roommate, Li Hua, his key back and said goodbye (even though I'm sure we'll go out to eat all the time next semester). I'm sad to leave him because he is like an older brother to me. In accordance with normal Chinese customs, he always makes sure I've eaten, I'm not cold, and I've slept well. He also has provided companionship on countless evenings when we stayed up late watching TV and eating kabobs together, while chatting about American and Chinese politics, housing prices, and cultural differences. As I was leaving, he said to me, "I know that living in a foreign country must be really hard. I know that life here in China must be so different from life in America. And yet you are so familiar with Chinese customs, I think pretty soon you're going to forget which country you're from, China or America!" I responded, laughing, "That might actually happen..."

When I first moved in on New Year's Eve, I had a bit of a culture shock-homesickness attack. The reality that I wouldn't have my own toilet or bed for the next 6 months set in, and I just kept thinking to myself, "What have I gotten myself into and how can I get out of this?" and "I miss my Mom and Dad. I miss indoor heating and big refrigerators and clothes dryers and sandwiches." After spending the night, I felt much better in the morning. I spent the better half of the day cleaning with the front door open, just like freshman year on college on move-in day. Residents poked their heads in periodically, introducing themselves, inviting me to dinner, and reminding me that I can always come to them if I need anything. My neighbor, an elderly woman of over 80 years of age, said, "Your surname is Tian 田, right?" I responded with an affirmative, and told her my full Chinese name and asked her how I should address her. "Oh, just call me Grandma (奶奶)" she responded. Needless to say, that made me smile, and I couldn't ask for better neighbors.

The biggest piece of culture shock that will probably remain until the summer time is my shower situation. Below is a picture of the shower. When I told my neighbor that the shower situation is what I'm most worried about, he replied, "Really? Don't worry about the shower situation, it's not that bad. I'm worried about you getting enough to eat." I responded that I would definitely be able to feed myself, and he shouldn't worry that.

Xie Rui's mom insisted that I shouldn't shower here because the water doesn't get that hot and it's freezing downstairs since there isn't a closed shower room where steam could at least trap some heat. She told me that she would give me the key to her apartment about 5 minutes away, which I could go to anytime to shower. This seemed like a pretty good deal to me, so I agreed. Later, her neighbor told me that she was actually just being polite, and she didn't mean what she said when she invited me to shower at there house (this is the second culture shock moment that I know I will have a hard time dealing with--people not meaning what they say). 

He said I should definitely not take her key, and shouldn't shower all the time there because that would be very troublesome (麻烦) for her. He told me that I should actually shower at home because it wouldn't be that bad. He said if I felt that it was really uncomfortable, I could go to the local shower house instead, which would be warmer, although that is 10 yuan (RMB) each trip. I can also shower at the gym where I practice jiujitsu. So I actually have 4 options for showering, at home, at my landlord's house, at the public shower house, or at the gym, and I know I'll get over being a baby in a couple days. I just need to toughen up. As Calvin's dad always says, it builds character. I sure hope so. I showered at the gym yesterday, and they didn't have any hot water (no one knows why). It was a painful 5 minutes, but it didn't kill me. I figure if I can do that, I can shower at home. I showered this morning at home, and it was somewhat of a success. I bought two-in-one shampoo and conditioner to cut down on shower time. When I got out of the shower, my entire body was steaming from the temperature difference. I have to say, it really wasn't that bad. About 5 minutes of pain with me saying to myself "This is all be over soon, this will all be over soon" and I was dry again, warmly wearing 6 layers.  It's going to be an interesting next 6 months. I have to say I didn't realize how incredibly comfortable I was in my old place. Maybe a little too comfortable. It feels good to challenge myself again. It's exciting and I really couldn't be happier.  

My dressing room with a balcony and bamboo poles for hanging my laundry

Xie Rui and my bed (we share a bed, but she didn't want to share a blanket)

My roommate and bed mate, Xie Rui, at her computer

Our study space, hers is on the left, mine is on the right.

My "stove"

The kitchen, with my bike inside because "there are a lot of thieves around and you should put your bike inside when you're not using it."

Kitchen

The shower in the middle of the kitchen

Shower

This is my favorite part of the house- the ladder going upstairs.

Chinese word of the day:

过敏- guo4 min3- literally "to pass through sensitivity," aka allergy