Thursday, June 07, 2007

Your Beijing Butterfly

I find myself in the middle of what looks to be the most sociable week I've had since Hong Kong. Everyone seems to have got wind of the fact that I am leaving soon, and wants to see me before I go. This gives me a warm feeling toward them, toward the place, toward my time here, just as it has meant to. It's easy to forget how stressful and problematic every one of these relationships is for me, and how lonely my life here is overall, when this nostalgic sense of ending is so thick. Of course this socializing is also very stressful for me. At least my progress can be measured by the fact that it is almost as big a stress to go out and speak English as it is to go out and speak Chinese.

On Monday, lunch, there was YHz and Army Gal, the latter of whom conducted us to the fancy Sichuan restaurant in the Zhongguancun building in her ubiquitous car. Once there, I found myself commanded by Army Gal to attempt to order a faithful reproduction of the last meal we'd had there. I got some right and some wrong while YHz looked on rather curiously at what surely must be something of a breach in manners, even by Chinese standards? I got my own back by triumphantly remembering the last dish Army Gal had ordered on the previous occasion, and saying, "But last time neither of you ate any of this and I had to have it wrapped up, so let's not have it this time." But it was rather a hollow triumph. We talked about India, of all things. Then about Army Gal's step-mother, whom she despised as being low-bred and a poor substitute for her own mother. That topic went on for some time, winding itself cyclically through Army Gal's brain and out her mouth with only the smallest of variations. I managed at least to pay the bill smoothly and subtly enough.

I would have resented Army Gal's complete domination of the conversation had it not been for the fact that I had gone early to see YHz in her office and had a good long chat with her there beforehand. Among other things, I had talked with her about the problem of class discussion, and of students seeming to be unwilling to do their own work. I humbly offered a suggestion or two because YHz seemed earnestly puzzled and eager to hear them. She actually announced that she would try one of them; we'll see how it goes.

Tuesday, I had some further dealings with Army Gal as regards some CDs she had copied for me, some of which had proved to be corrupted. That and treating them on Monday were my last obligations to her, and I think both of us were rather glad of it. Army Gal is disappointed by my coldness, I sense, and guilty though it makes me feel, I find her company unbearable. Hammer wanted to go to lunch with me but I got his message too late. This is not the first time this has happened with Hammer. He'll call to see if I want to get dinner when I have just finished eating. I feel bad about it, but I can't help it. He won't plan ahead, and puts me off if I try to. In the event, I ended up eating a pork and cabbage flatbread as I walked to class.

Wednesday (yesterday) I dined with HJ, who has been silent and invisible this past month as she finished up her thesis. She is done now, and full of confidence and newly organized knowledge. She looked rather lovely in a delicate pale yellow dress. She does often dress nicely, and knows how not to overdo it. We discussed Strauss and Gadamer, Plato's Symposium, also the stories of Edgar Allen Poe and the films of Alfred Hitchcock. I am currently working my way through Vanity Fair while she is planning to read Flaubert's Three Tales. She does seem to belong in the Ivy League, at least as far as taste is concerned.

Then today it was a classmate whom I shall call Gather (in allusion to his Chinese name). I had chanced to converse with him once after class, and we had got on rather well. The next week he said he'd intended to ask me to dinner (this does not have the underlying meaning in Chinese culture that it might in the U.S.; it can be perfectly collegial), but I'd had another engagement. Then he had been visiting his home, and had only just got back. Over the weekend he texted me renewing his invitation, though offering me the out that if I didn't remember him or didn't have time, no matter. I actually thought it over for about 24 hours, unconscionably long for a text exchange, then decided that I had best go. I am coward, especially as Chinese men are concerned, but after all this is how contacts are made. One must be brave. I proposed lunch, and that is what we did.

Gather took me to the newish Guangdong restaurant, and peremptorily commanded a private room. He quizzed me on my dissertation topic, and I asked him haltingly in return about his research. It turns out he is a post-doc, which is a rather more formal matter than in the U.S. One has an advisor just as a PhD student does, and is expected to produce a post-doc thesis at the end of it. Not a bad system really, almost like an apprenticeship after one's schooling--after one has already the credentials to be taken seriously, but before one is really slammed with the work of teaching and committees and such. We discussed the state of American sinology, and he mentioned a few names I had heard of. We debated the pros and cons of different scholars, the way American sinologists were educated and how they are educated today. I did my best to be fair, and did not disparage American sinology as much as Hammer would have (and regularly does), but nor did I do any trumpet-blowing or banner waving. In a lot of ways we almost are all frauds as regards the nitty-gritty of textual scholarship, though in our methodological insights and conceptualizations of things are at times valuable. That at least is what I tried to convey.

We also discussed the weather (he said with complete nonchalance and no intention whatsoever to injure, "you're so fat, no wonder you don't like this heat"--fortunately I'm used to this by now and was only a little startled), the relative merits of Guangdong versus Sichuan cuisine, and my career prospects. He suggested (approvingly) that my manners must have been influenced by my Asian father because I was becomingly modest, just like a Chinese person and not at all like other Americans he had met. (He was ever more complementary and I proceeded to say ever more modest things. It's a funny thing about insincere modesty that in inflates the coin of honest humility to a preposterous degree. All I do is admit my deficiencies, and get more credit than if I had twice my present ability and said so. If I really were so able, I would not make a secret of it; but no one can tell the difference....) He said I must often come to China, and that he would certainly invite me to give talks. He is contemplating applying for a visiting position in the States, and I clumsily offered assistance.

I'm not sure what Gather's goal was, but I don't actually think it was English proof-reading. I'm not sure if I disappointed or fulfilled his expectations for the occasion. Here's one thing that I will say though, most immodestly: I had a superb spoken Chinese day. Sometimes I amaze even myself. Here I was lunching with a stranger, and an aggressive, highly critical person at that; I had every reason to be nervous and tongue-tied, but instead I not only managed to say what I wanted to say clearly enough, but even embellished it with the few literary references and elegant idioms I can command, as appropriate. Things just fell into place. I never speak with perfect fluency; there are always grammatical mistakes and infelicities. But I think I at least managed to convey that I was not wholly uneducated. He told me I was the future of American sinology! Which piece of flattery, one hopes (for the sake of American sinology), was highly exaggerated, but a pretty compliment still.

He was rather cool upon parting, however, which perhaps means I did not quite measure up. I don't bother to worry about these things, though. It was a learning experience, networking practice. If it happens I hear from him again, so much the better. If not, nothing lost. And after all I got a very fine lunch out of it.

This lunch with Gather does not even complete my social calendar for the week, which still includes dinner tonight with a fellow American, CC (an artist) and possibly some kind of Friday or Saturday meeting with the Lama, who is back in town briefly in between his journeys.

Regarding the Lama, I should add: now that I have got used to the idea that I shan't see him every day or every week, it is really pleasant to get an unanticipated e-mail from some exotic locale, or a call saying he'll be gone again in a few days but would I like to hang out while he's here? He is always full of new sights and stories, and at the same time he works very diligently, so we can talk shop as well. Though his field is different from mine, there is something deeply similar about the kinds of problems that interest us. The same room as seen through two different windows.

Well, what a long post! And I did not even mention my book-shipping adventures, about which, I know, at least one of my dear readers is deeply concerned. More on this soon.

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