The Kindness Of Strangers - Luoyang, China
Luoyang, China
Sometimes, it really is the little things that matter. In a place that moves around you in a confusing blur of unintelligible words, sights, sounds, colors, and smells, a simple act of kindness to bridge the language and culture gap can be enough to make you float on air the rest of the day.
I went grocery shopping today. If you read last weeks post, grocery shopping is not my favorite activity in China. Today, however, wasn't so bad. I didn’t go in the wrong door. I didn’t forget to have my produce weighed. I managed to match up the Chinese characters with the posted sign in order to finally purchase ground sugar. I didn’t leave the store in a flush-faced, confused, traumatized state.
What really sticks out at me was a short interaction I had in the produce section. I was standing in the fruit section, picking out dragon fruit. I already had several in my plastic bag when I felt a touch on my elbow. I turned to see an older Chinese woman standing there. She was pointing at the dragon fruit in my hand and shaking her head no. She then proceeded to pick up several dragon fruit, and through pointing and stroking, showed me the difference between the two, indicating the good points with a smile, and the bad points with a shake of her head. She handed me the good one, and I promptly emptied my bag and placed it inside. I then looked at the fruit in front of me, and, following her short lesson, selected several of my own. With a smile, and a nod she indicated that I had made good choices. I thanked her in Chinese, and with another smile and small bow, she walked away. She didn’t get any of the dragon fruit, or any of the surrounding produce.
That simple little interaction left me feeling happy, satisfied, better informed, and in some small way accepted. Every once in a while it really does feel amazingly good to have someone be sincerely nice to you for no reason. There wasn’t any pity or exacerbation in the transaction, and I still have no idea why she decided to come help me, because I hadn’t been giving off any distress signals.
It isn’t the first time this has happened. The majority of the time I have to ask for help. I am met with either pity or annoyance. There are the occasional instances where people delve in to help and guide with absolutely no prompting or apparent motive, and these simple little mundane occurrences are some of the most memorable and interesting. I am thinking specifically of the other night, when Chris and I went to get dinner.
It was later in the evening, after I got off work, Chris met me, and we decided to look for a little dumpling shop we had been told about. We looked, and we wandered. And we looked and wandered some more. As we got further away, we came to the sinking realization that we had, in all likelihood, gotten ourselves completely lost. We were ravenous at this point, so we ducked into the nearest restaurant. It was cafeteria style, and deserted, except for a few older women and one family, as well as the workers. As Chris stands there trying to translate something on his phone, I started to look around at the various food options. Chris goes to the cashiers station to ask them how we get food, and I, of course, just plunge in head first. As I am walking around the perimeter, perusing the food options, I realize that I have drawn some attention. Next thing I know, there is a woman at either elbow, smiling at me and chattering in Chinese. I think they assumed that because Chris could speak some Chinese, I could as well. The badly accented doi-bu-chi (sorry) and apologetic shoulder shrug I gave them soon corrected their assumption. Nonetheless, they continued to steer me around, pointing at various pots and pans and talking to be. I, of course, understood nothing until I heard the word for steamed buns, at which point I shouted baut-zuh (the incorrect pinyin spelling for steamed buns). The woman looked at my excited face and started laughing in a good natured way. I got a plate of steamed buns, and then a bowl of some kind of sweet rice gruel. At the women’s prompting, I spooned various things into the stew, all the while having no idea what I was about to eat, what I was putting into what I was about to eat, or how much what I was about to eat would cost me. All of this before Chris even finished his discussion with the cashier. You can believe that I was feeling very proud of myself for managing to get an entire meal without having to point and grunt. Chris eventually ordered the same gruel, and ascertained that we had arrived late, and if we wanted more options, we needed to get there earlier another night. The buns were tasty, but somewhat lukewarm. The gruel, while not distasteful, was not something I would eat again. It was somewhat flavorless, if I am honest. My lasting impression, however, was not of the food or the restaurant, but of the people. It was another example of having people help us even though they had no need or personal motivation to do so.
I think the reason these little moments stick out to me is that they feel familiar in an unfamiliar world. They give me a few moments of letting my guard down and sharing the simple human experience of kindness. It spans generations, language barriers, and oceans. It’s a nice reminder that for every dozen or so people that nearly run me over everyday, there are also people willing to spare five minutes to help me pick out decent produce or order dinner, and it’s those really good moments that help balance out the constant barrage of crazy and confusing.