Play the Game of Life
Ryan Petersen's Blog

Even when you have a walk signal, crossing the street in China is a delicate game, involving you, a half-dozen biciclysts and any drivers thinking about running the red light. Understanding the rules to this game will help you get where you're going faster, while minimizing the risk of an untimely death in a strange land.

For example, one key to getting across a busy street safely is to rely on peripheral vision only. Do not turn to face vehicles that might be contemplating running a red light.

If you look directly at a car, the driver may perceive this as a call to direct confrontation. Once you make it known you have seen his car, you grant the driver the right to ignore any red lights and assume the right-of-way granted them by the laws of physics.

However, I've found that if a Chinese driver does not think you have seen him coming, he is far less likely to try to run you down in the street.
This means that you should rely entirely on peripheral vision whenever possible. Keep your head pointed straight ahead in the direction you are walking, and act as if you don't care that there is a double-decker bus about to hit you.

Odds are that bus driver doesn't actually want to see you die today. He just acts like he does to scare you out of the road. But if you can convince him that you don't care if he hits you, then he won't hit you. It's when they see fear in your eyes that they try to pancake you.

As with any bluffing game, you need to know when to concede your bluff and get the hell out of the way. So you need to be constantly scanning your peripheral vision for vehicles and get out of the way without a moments hesitation if one is coming for you. By avoiding looking straight at the cars though, I find you can avoid most incidents before they even become close calls.

This whole game leads to interesting--and frustrating--circumstances for tourists who don't understand the rules. Because they are accustomed to looking straight at cars and acting as though they care if they are hit by one, they are effectively wearing a sign around their neck that says "Please Try to Hit Me!"

Labels: china, China traffic

Barbershops are not a place I will add to my list of places to demonstrate your courage in learning a language. The risks are just too high.

It's been some months and it was getting a little shaggy. My Chinese teacher got a haircut over the weekend, so when I told him I was afraid to get my haircut by a Chinese barber he laughed at me. "What could go wrong?" was basically his message. So, after being ridiculed in class I decided to get up the courage and brave a Chinese barbershop.

As with most events in my life, there was very little planning involved in this. The strategy was this: walk around aimlessly till I find a guy who looks like he might be gay cutting someone's hair. Surprisingly this only took about 5 minutes, as there was a potentially homosexual barber just around the corner from my apartment.

I made one pass to review the situation then told myself to just go for it. Within 5 minutes several things struck me as quite different from American barbershops. First, they don't have alcohol or whatever is in those jars where they keep the combs. The guy just picked the comb off the table, kinda tapped out the last person's hair and began using it on me. I thought, okay, I'm in China; I can handle a little Chinese hair mixed in with my own. The second thing that hit me is they don't have guards on their razors. This was a devastating blow to my haircut strategy, since I had planned on saying "number 4" and pointing to the clippers.

Now I was in over my head. Sitting in the chair, with the towel rapped around me there was no turning back. Yet I had no chance of describing how I wanted my haircut, since I don’t know the words for "fade," "longer," "shorter," "hair cut" or just about anything else. (I do know how to say "hair" but I couldn't find any reason to use it while I was in there). I quickly resorted to sign language, indicating that I would like it shorter on the sides and a bit longer on the top. He seemed to understand and reached to pick up the electric clippers.

Next I discovered another glaring difference between American barbershops and this one in Shanghai: the electric clippers are generally kept on a shelf, perhaps in a cabinet or some sort of a box in America; here the clippers were kept on the floor. Honestly though, I didn't care if the clippers are covered in a dozen random people's hair: I just wanted to get a normal looking haircut.

Unfortunately it wasn't to be. The guy seemed very professional. He did an excellent job on the sides of my head, displaying enough skill with the razor/comb combo that I decided I was in good hands. He switched to the scissors for the top when I asked him to (side note: I don’t think you really need to learn the word for scissors in other languages, because the two fingers cutting motion is probably the most universally recognized hand gesture). When he was done I thought, cool, it looks good and was very proud of myself for getting such a bargain on a haircut (12 kuai = $1.50).

However, leaving the shop I realized the last difference between the Shanghai barbershop and the Paraguayan and Vietnamese ones I grew up with in Bethesda, Maryland--they don't have one of those mirrors to show you the back of your head. For years and years American barbers have been showing me the back of my head and not once did I have a problem. I often wondered why they bothered.

Running my hand through my hair as I walked down the block, I realized that my hair was twice as long in the back as in the front. I'm thinking that maybe my hair is very different from Chinese people's hair so he didn’t realize what a butchering he was giving. The only other Chinese barber I've ever used was Garrett, and he always did a great job. Then again, he's a banana so that doesn't really count.

The last two hours I've spent clipping my hair with a pair of dull scissors in the bathroom mirror. Unfortunately I still don't have a hand mirror to see the back, but the chrome lid to my trashcan provided enough reflection to kinda see what I was doing. Nonetheless, I'm confident there are several large bald spots on topof my head somewhere. The good news is, as I've noted in previous e-mails, I am more than 5 inches taller than almost everybody else here, so it is unlikely that anybody will be able to notice anyways.

(Garrett, when you come visit me in June, please bring your clippers. I am going to have to call in a favor)

Labels: china, my favorite posts

Right now I am nearly unable to sit down, get up, walk, move my arms or any other part of my body wihtout intense pain. The other day I got an email from a new friend from school inviting me to pizza. I haven't had good pizza ina long time and he said he knew the best pizza joint in Shanghai, so of course I was down. At the dinner I met a Fillipino guy who is into"dragon boating." This sounded like a lot of fun, the images in mymind involving a leisurely sightseeing ride on the historic Yangtze River...

We met up with our crew, about 15 people from around theworld, at a local Starbucks where our bus took us to the Shanghai Acquatic Center. I was in good spirits as we began the day with a 1mile jog, did some brisk jumping jacks and stretches and distributed the paddles (no life vests since this is China). As I walked onto the boat I naively thought how my experience canoeing all summer in Annapolis would prepare me and that I would show these people a thing or two about paddling.

Soon however, I realized the reality of dragon boating is far closer to internment on a Viking slave ship than any boating we do on the Severn River. For the next 2 hours we paddled full steam ahead, in unison, as though there were some important purpose to what we weredoing. I found out later there is an important purpose. Rather than a pleasure cruise, I had in fact signed up for training with a sponsored dragon boat team that travels all around Asia for competitions. I think I did okay for a beginner and certainly felt good about myself for toughing it out till the end. And I made several new friends and at the end of it all I decided I would go back next week for more slave-driving. But, I just took a nap and, waking up, realized that both my ass cheeks are severely bruised, my back will not bend properly, and my arms barely reach above my head. Major second thoughts about pursuing this new sport...

Labels: china, my favorite posts