Eleven foreigners and I
by Sherry Paik
When I was eleven, my mother took my sister and I to Auckland, New Zealand. For the first time in my life I was living in a foreign country full of foreign people who spoke a foreign language. Eight years have passed since and I am now in the US. I have no trouble understanding people, strangers they may be. The younger me would have been shy and reluctant to speak up for sure, but I had forgotten about that – until I was in China, once again surrounded by foreigners speaking a foreign language.
Well, to be more precise, I was also traveling with eleven foreigners. If anything else, I should have felt closer to the Chinese people because I am Korean. However I could not communicate with them, unless they spoke ten times slower than they normally do and I managed to pull some simple Chinese from what I had learned in high school, whereas I was perfectly at ease with my fellow travelers because we all spoke the amazing English.
Aside from the language barrier, I did feel much more at home in the streets of Beijing, Hangzhou, or Shanghai, especially in the old, traditional ones, than I do in, say, the State Street in Ann Arbor. Though they are narrower, streets in many Korean cities bear similar look to their counterparts in China: small shops with narrow interiors; tall, very tall apartments; roads on top of roads; congregation of cheap street food places and clothing shops near a university; and so on and so forth. The subways operate almost identically, though I imagine all subways are alike in any metropolitan city. Dryers are not yet common and mothers and wives often hang their clothes in their terraces or even out in the streets to dry. And the old streets - the traditional markets are just as hectic and unruly, the traditional neighborhoods just as dull yet simmering with life. The hole-in-the-grounds actually exist in Korea as well and the last time I checked, many schools have kept them till this day (which means I had a head start, but does not mean I can stand them). Culturally and historically, Korea is heavily influenced by China’s Confucian ideals. Filial piety, yes; emphasis on academic achievements, yes; the tendency to prefer sons to daughters, oh yes, although it has noticeably declined in the last few years in Korea my country. When it comes to food more readily recognizable differences arise, nevertheless we agree on the importance of rice. In the end, however Korean and Chinese landscapes are strikingly different; I only wish to point out that for all the dissimilarities out there, Hangzhou is still less foreign to me than Ann Arbor is.
It was then almost ironic that I felt so distant from the people because I did not understand them. Even more so when the hotel staff or waiters often talked to me directly in Chinese in the absence of the much-appreciated CET guides, because they assumed that I was one of them. I never imagined – on the contrary, I most likely did imagine but had forgotten that language could be such a significant factor in fully immersing myself a foreign culture. Because of this, I have begun to think about where I am in a larger sense. The places I feel comfortable in, like Seoul, Auckland, and Ann Arbor, are only the tiniest bubbles compared to the land of China or the rest of the world. This time I left my bubble voluntarily; it may not be so in the future. There are more people who do not speak the same languages as me than who do out there and while this thought is scary, it also reminds me there is much to explore in this world. I felt confused and frustrated at times in the midst of foreign people trying to communicate, however as the saying goes, all’s well that ends well.