Fleeting Fame

I’ve noticed there are significantly fewer Westerners in China compared to other countries.

This makes it feel like China is a little less influenced by Western culture, or, as I learned at dinner Wednesday night, it’s not that the Western culture hasn’t come to China; most people just choose to ignore it, preferring their own traditional ways.

But with her flaxen hair, slender build, and striking features, my travel companion, KSPN2 TV reporter Lannie Walker, is the epitome of Western culture. During the five days of the trip so far, she has received numerous stares, several accented attempts at “hello,” and a few requests for photographs.

While walking down Nanjing Road, a man and woman finally deemed me Western enough to join Lannie as she posed for a picture with each of them. It was awesome. I was a celebrity for 10 seconds. But fame, I’ve learned, is fleeting, and the two tour guides pulled us from the eager pictures takers.

Without my tour guides (or saviors as I sometimes feel about them), Nomi and Wonder, I think I would be lost in this country of 1.3 billion. No one speaks English. Of all the countries I’ve been to, Mexico, in my opinion, seems to be the only country that has fewer English speakers. This isn’t bad. In fact, I know I’m spoiled when I can travel to any country and get by not knowing a single word of their native tongue, but I have gotten used to it nonetheless. I thought I knew two Chinese words—hello and thank you—that would go a long way in attempting to navigate this place. To my surprise, I learned that for the last five days I’ve been pronouncing “thank you” incorrectly. No wonder my attempts at gratitude usually resulted in a look of confusion or a fit of giggles.

At one point, I dared to venture out on my own in search of chapstick. I reverted back to the international language of hand signals. I puckered my lips and put on imaginary lip gloss. The store worker acted as my reflection and made the exact same movement, before leading me to a row with every brand of chapstick imaginable. I can never go wrong with miming, although there are only so many things I can act out with my hands.

Earlier in the day, the four of us headed to Century Park in the Pudong Area, where we decided to ride a four-person bike—two seats in the front and two in the back. I was appointed the steerer of the bike. I was a tad nervous. Visions of crashing a golf cart while an intern in college came flashing back. But, apparently, pedaling and maneuvering a four-person bike is not beyond my capabilities, and 30 minutes later I parked the bike with three healthy, non-injured passengers.

The Peace Hotel was one place I couldn’t wait to see on my last day in Shanghai. Many famous celebrities and dignitaries like Charlie Chaplin and Muhammad Ali have stayed there. As I drove by I discovered it was under renovation—major renovations in fact. A little peek inside was out of the question.

I felt a bit like Clark Griswold in the 1983 film National Lampoon’s Vacation (my favorite movie, by the way). The Peace Hotel was my Walley World.

It was OK, though, because I was able to experience true Americana during lunch. There were forks, paper napkins, and unlimited refills of Coke Light(!). Life was good.

And it continued into the night as I worked toward one of my many goals of the trip—to try as many exotic foods as possible (and take a picture of it).

The food of choice was bullfrog, and it was delicious. Using chopsticks continues to be a struggle, and I was self-conscious as I ate in front of strangers for the first time, but it wasn’t going to stop me from my goal.

A few hours before, I asked Lannie about my lack of chopsticks skills.

“It’s endearing, right?” I asked about my embarrassing attempts to use the wooden sticks. She laughed. Maybe not so much.