December 11, 2000
Dear All,
Before I left Colorado Springs, a wise friend advised me to be attentive to sounds and smells as well as sights in China. I have appreciated the suggestion because it has caused me to notice things that I might not otherwise observe. Turning smells into word pictures exceeds my capacity for description, but let me try to transform some of the sounds into words.
Auto horns: Night and day, in the countryside as well as the cities, beeping horns are part of the Chinese experience. My first reaction in Tibet, when I heard the constant honking of our Chinese driver, was that this was some kind of ethnic commentary by a Han Chinese man in regard to the local Tibetans. Since then I have come to realize that drivers do that everywhere regardless of the identity of the parties involved. Conditions vary somewhat, from the taxi driver who honked about once every seven seconds to another who did an entire trip from downtown to the university with only about three beeps.
Some drivers honk every time they come up behind another vehicle or a person on a bicycle. Since the roads are full of people at all hours, this theory calls for almost constant horn exercise. Others only honk when they see the possibility of unwanted interaction; this also threatens to happen often, given the chaotic (to American eyes) traffic. Apparently the overriding rule of the road, after “You should at least slow down when you see a traffic light,” is “Get where you want to go by the most direct means possible” combined with “Size, horsepower, and chutzpah prevail.” Sometimes this means driving on the left rather than the right for a stretch, sometimes using the bicycle lane, sometimes turning a corner in a motion that doesn’t match with any system I have been familiar with in the past.
There IS one good reason for honking-people walk around without the slightest glance at the traffic. They often wander out into the street, or stroll across, or stand and chat with a friend without any regard for bicycles or automobiles, not to mention trucks and buses. Chinese mothers must not remind their children, as American mothers do, to look both ways before crossing the street. Even as a regular bicycle rider (since that is the main way to get around) I am amazed at the frequency with which I ring my bell.
Which brings me to my next sound…
Bicycle and pedicab bells: There is a particular intersection in downtown Chengdu at which the density of bicycles and pedicabs reaches its high point. The effect to my ear is quite lovely. The bicycle bells are a gentle tinkle, interspersed with a horn that comes from squeezing a rubber sphere. Pedicab drivers indicate the availability of their vehicles by rocking a larger bell attached to the handlebars, much like an old fashioned school teacher’s bell. The three sounds come together in a lovely cacophony.
Crickets: In the summer and early fall, the crickets chirped every morning and evening. I could hear them even when staying in a high rise hotel my first few days in Chengdu; their love songs persisted up 23 stories and through sealed windows. Many Chinese poets have written about crickets and given their ubiquity I am not surprised. Once the weather turned cool, however, the crickets disappeared. I miss the rise and fall of their unique and distinctive sound.
Birds in cages in the parks: Exotic birds seem to be popular pets in China, especially for retired men, perhaps because they are of a scale appropriate to small apartments. The birds seem to be chosen as much for their song as for their plumage. Many days the men “walk” their birds to the park and hang the cages from the trees, then sit with their friends and chat about whatever. In popular gathering places, the trees are filled with cages, some of them lovely bamboo constructions with little blue and white ceramic dishes for the birds’ food and water. The birds, in turn, chatter to one another, filling the air with the avian equivalent of Chinese tonal syllables.
Chickens and ducks in the market: A different kind of bird sound comes in the small market street I walk through almost every day. Most of the vendors there sell food products, from packaged goods to fruits and vegetables to meats. One particular vendor has live chickens, ducks, pigeons, rabbits, and a kind of fowl I don’t recognize. At night the birds are herded inside a small building but during the day they sit in an area outlined by a wicker fence. Chickens and roosters in one large wicker circle, ducks in another, pigeons in a cage, and a few rabbits hanging around. I assume these creatures are all tethered or restrained in some way although I cannot see little strings around their feet or anything. In fact, they seem to exude resignation. Maybe somehow their little bird brains know that they are close to becoming Kung Pao Ji Ding or some other Sichuan delicacy. The only resister I have observed in the months I have walked through the market was one rooster who was REALLY unhappy about having his throat slit. As he hung upside down in the hands of the vendor, he squawked and flapped and made a big fuss. Otherwise the creatures just accept their fate.
Sweepers: The Chinese must hold the world record for sweeping. Everywhere I have been there are people, usually old women, sweeping the streets and always with twig brooms. It is a good method for disposing of leaves and litter, an important consideration in a country where people just drop anything and everything on the ground. But otherwise it just moves the dirt around -- it doesn’t get anything really clean.
The indoor equivalent to the twig broom is a plastic broom and a dustpan. Each morning the attendants in my building go carefully through the carpeted hallways and sweep up crumbs, little pieces of paper, and the other detritus of a student dormitory. Then they mop the carpeting. Yes, they use a wet mop. As far as I can tell they never vacuum anything. As a result the carpet is really disgusting although I try not to get close enough to notice the details. When I have used the lone vacuum available to the students I have been surprised at the change in color in the carpeting before and after. Even with the windows closed there is a lot of dust and dirt in the air. But sweeping? I don’t do it even though that is the Chinese way.
Traditional music: About a month ago I was given tickets to a concert of contemporary music played by a traditional orchestra. How fascinating to hear an entire ensemble composed of traditional Chinese instruments! One of the most unusual was a bagpipe sounding instrument that I first heard in August being played by a monk in Tibet. What a lovely mournful sound. When I described it to a Chinese person, I was told that the instrument was used especially at weddings in the countryside.
The recreation room: I live across the way from the rec room for this dorm so I hear whatever is happening over there. The events that I notice regularly are pool, ping pong, tai chi, and ballroom dancing. Tai chi doesn’t generate any sound but the others do. There is a pleasant rhythm to a ping pong game-tadunk, tadunk, tadunk -- somewhat syncopated but regular if the players are well matched. Pool is more punctuated. A long silence and then clickclickclick as the balls ricochet around the pool table. But the ballroom dancing is the most amusing because of the choice of music. I am particularly fascinated by the 1960s protest music transformed by the passage of years and the cultural divide to sweet mindless elevator music suitable for a foxtrot.
Cold weather sounds: Now that the weather has changed from autumn to winter, there are new sounds in my life. Apparently there is a large generator in the outer yard beside the building which provides the hot water/steam for the radiators. When the generator is on, it is ON. It feels a bit like living next to a factory of some kind. But, as is often the case in such situations, it becomes part of the background quite quickly. The first day I despaired for my sanity; will I have to listen to this thing for the next two months? But now I only notice it when it is particularly grouchy. Besides, when I realize that Chinese students and faculty members don't have heat at all, I can't complain.
Another related sound is the hot water coming on. About 7 a.m., and then at other intervals during the day, there is a very loud CHUNK pause CHUNK pause CHUNK which has a vibrating quality throughout the building. Apparently the workers fire up the boilers for hot water several times a day and the starting sound is what I hear. It also explains the unpredictable water temperature.
And another usual sound is the whoosh of the puffy plastic toilet seat I found in my bathroom when I moved in. "How tacky!" I thought. But now that the weather is cold, it makes more sense. In unheated rooms, porcelain can be mighty cold; puffy plastic is somewhat warmer. Hmmm…even tacky has its charms.
Spitting: One of the least savory habits in China is spitting. Paul Theroux, the famous travel writer, gave a good word picture when he described the enormous amount of preparation -- harumphing, coughing, almost gargling -- that some people do, followed by a disappointing splat. Or even a dribble. I have gotten used to the spitting because it is constant. What I find really gross is the way some Chinese blow their noses. They close one nostril with a finger and then just blow out the mucus onto the street, or even onto the floor inside a building. I had one guy do that and then assist me in a shop. The sound isn’t very loud but the sight. Ugh!
Also on the street: I love to hear vendors’ cries, even though I have no idea what they are selling. Someone, usually riding slowly on a bicycle, will call out the goods or the service he is offering, from fresh vegetables to small appliance repair to collection of old newspapers. Each cry is different, of course, but they are all rhythmic in their own way. A different vendor sound is the shoeshine lady. She carries a small wooden stool and knocks her shoe brush against the stool five or six times in a particular rhythm. She walks through the restaurant and teahouse area looking for customers.
Incidentally the most interesting vendor I’ve seen doesn’t say anything. He is a well dressed man on a fancy motorcycle with two milk cans affixed to either side of the rear wheel. I only see him on the mornings I go early to class because he is selling portions of congee, the rice gruel that many people eat in the mornings. He always parks in the same place; people walk over with a bowl or a pot and get their breakfast.
Another sound on the street is more striking as a sight -- the Platform Shoe Shuffle. Several years ago platform shoes were big in the U.S., but the fashion has gotten out of hand here in China. The things these young girls put on their feet look quite outlandish to my American eyes. Maybe I am especially distressed by the contrast between the delicate bodies of young Chinese women and the enormous weights that they are carrying around on their feet. Some of them cannot even lift up their feet, so they shuffle along rather than walk normally. It looks especially bizarre when they ride their bicycles wearing big platform shoes.
Sounds of children: One of the most pleasant sounds on the street is the laughter of children. I hear much more of this than I do at home because universities, like other organizations, provide housing for their workers. Thus I am in the midst of a multi-generational community. When I walk to class, I walk along with the fourth and fifth graders going to school in the morning. When I pass the university kindergarten, I see parents and grandparents escorting their children. Some even drive their kids to kindergarten, although it doesn’t seem that anyone on campus lives that far away! Lots of parents have their kids, even little kids, riding on the back of their bicycles holding on to the parents’ coats, or standing on the rear fender and holding onto dad’s shoulders. And then during the day, grandparents are taking care of the children too small to go to school. I often smile at grandmas and grandpas and little boys and girls, the children with the open crotch pants that allow them to squat down and pee in the street. Much more practical than diapers but I do worry, now that the weather is cold, about them freezing their little buns.
My favorite kid sound was the little girl, all dressed in pink with pink barrettes, who greeted me as I ate dumplings in a streetside restaurant. “How do you do?” she said with an almost British accent. I smiled and said, "How do you do?" in return. This, of course, was hysterically funny and she went and hid behind her mother. But curiosity prevailed and she came back to my table. We had a simple conversation about her name, my name, her age, not my age, each exchange punctuated by giggles and a run back to mama. I suspect she was getting coaching on what else she should say in English. After a while her little friend came along, not with as much courage but with a shy smile. I wish I had had a camera and a tape recorder but I will have to rely on the memories instead.
In a few days I will travel to Yunnan Province, the next province south of China and one that borders on Laos and Vietnam. It is known for its beautiful scenery and its diverse ethnic cultures. I am looking forward to seeing an area that I have read a great deal about. I suspect I may also collect some additional interesting sounds while there.
Then back to Chengdu to finish my classes, and in less than a month, back in Colorado Springs.
Cheers,
Kathryn
