The Great Gawk of China

One of the most unnerving things for new arrivals here is that we're constantly being stared at. I got pretty used to this in Japan, but the Chinese have elevated gaping to an art form. For the most part this involves a motionless, open-mouthed gaze, with an expression that seems to indicate that the observer is struggling to piece together some sort of explanation for what they are seeing, but failing because the sight of me is ultimately inexplicable to them.

While I don't necessarily mind being the center of attention, one never quite gets used to being the focal point of every person within thirty feet. Grabbing a box of snack cakes off of the store shelf provokes a flurry of whispers from the checkout girls. Dropping your water bottle produces looks of genuine concern on the faces of onlookers (everyone). Quite commonly, people will shout "hello!" to me from across the street, to which I unfailingly respond in kind. Usually this causes them to adopt a facial expression which clearly says, "You called my bluff. I totally don't speak English."

Then there are those times when I do things practically guaranteed to draw attention.

I am leaving the cafeteria the other day when a man approaches me. Naturally, he is speaking Chinese. He alternates between asking unanswered questions and positing unquestioned assertions. He keeps pointing at a jade pendant he is wearing, a carving of a goddess.

Soon we are joined by a third. A young Chinese boy politely waits by the man's side until I make eye contract with him. "Hello. Are you American?" I confirm that I am. "My name is Jun Qiao (June Chow). Do you want to play basketball?" I confirm that I do. "Okay. Let's go."

Our departure draws some sort of protest from the man, whom Jun Qiao silences with a wave of his hand and a few words. As we walk off, Jun Qiao explains.

"You no trust society people. He want to sell you a girl, but is not for real."

"A girl?"

"Yeah, he wearing."

"Oh . . . you mean his necklace."

"Yeah. Is not for real. You not trust society people."

I am assuming he means the locals and not the characters of the Great Gatsby.

We go back to his room to get his basketball. It is the first time I have seen the inside of a student's dorm room. To call it "spartan" would be like calling Schindler's List "a downer". There is a walkway that is perhaps three feet wide and eight feet long. At the end of the walkway is a sunken concrete pit with a showerhead about it. There are two pairs of desks on either side of the room, and directly above the desks are bunk beds with mosquito netting. That's it. Four people live in this room. There is no toilet, AC, or television. No place to put a television. Sailors have more personal space.

Jun Qiao grabs his basketball and we head down to the courts. I am initially expecting a little one-on-one, or perhaps a game of horse, but as we approach the courts it becomes clear that they are thoroughly occupied. Perhaps sixty guys for three hoops. One of them sees me coming, and grabs his friend's arm. Suddenly, like the turning of the tide, sixty heads full of black hair turn to stare at me. One of the three ongoing games actually stops.

I wave.

Jun Qiao tells me that since the courts are busy, so we will have to wait our turn. He explains that the courts are crowded because China has so many people, and that he is sorry for that. Jun Qiao is constantly apologizing for the current state of China.

We make a team with two other guys and soon it is our turn. Those of you who have seen me play basketball can probably predict how it went. For those of you who haven't - I am to basketball what Laura Bush is to ice hockey. We lose, three to five (games only go up to five for faster rotation).

It's one thing to be a terrible player and lose in front of your friends. It's quite another to do so in front of sixty strangers who are scrutinizing your every move. I decide that this is unacceptable, and that I need a new strategy.

I have one, solitary skill when it comes to basketball. I can board. I can rebound over guys who are five or six inches taller than me. Since I am in fact five or six inches taller than these guys, my path to victory becomes clear - I will post myself in the paint and refuse to move.

Which is just what I do. In the next game I basically grab every ball that hits the board and pass it out to anyone but myself. My teammates find this a little frustrating, but they don't know about my history of air-balling lay-ups. In any case, they can't argue with results - five to three, team Foreigner. The highlight of the game is when I pack this guy who tries to do a lay-up and about fifty people break out laughing all around us. Sucks to be him.

After the game my teammates and I compare hand size. They can't believe that I can even hold a basketball (I have small hands), much less grab a rebound. I indicate my height and then theirs, and they get the picture. They are happy to have me on their team. We pass around a water bottle and watch the games together.

I've played basketball with Jun Qiao a few times since then, and I'm still the center of attention every time we go. It gets a little old sometimes, but Jun Qiao is really cool and it's fun to be outside playing basketball. I figure I shouldn't let something like a little ogling get in the way of doing what I enjoy. Besides, whenever I pack somebody they get to have a little taste of what it's like.