I knew from online sources that I, someone who spoke no English, would be better off buying a metro card than hoping to ask a stranger for directions. This wasn’t Hongkong that was littered with homesick expats eager for an English conversation, regardless of how brief. I will be hard pressed to find a person who understands English and speaks English. The second part was very important. I have been in way too many conversations where I was understood well enough but their reply just made no sense to me.
So I chose a place within walking distance to a train station on the farthest reaches of the Didie’s subway network. It was China enough to have clothes skewered by the sleeve or pant leg on bamboo poles. But it was modern enough so that the bamboo poles were on frames up to 15 stories up in a residential complex. As such, despite the rush hour traffic I find myself seated on the train.
I have been shrilled at by women who were probably insulted when I offered them my seat by my western gentlemanly ways. I would then be elbowed for being the youngest seated passenger when an elderly person came aboard. I learned filial piety within a few days of my stay.
So seated, I people watched. The leather boots of winter have given way to more fashionable suede ones. The windbreakers and sweaters are for an effect of layering, instead of warding off the cold. And in front of me, a man’s open fly was letting the cool spring air his white underwear, seemingly invisible to everyone but me. I fished out my dictionary and found the entry for zipper. I showed him the page, my finger pointing at the Chinese characters for zipper. He said something fast and frustrated. I pointed at his groin and he got this weird look on his face. I was saying your "fly is open, sir" as hushed as possible. I pointed at my own fly and made a fidgeting gesture as if I was opening in it and he gasped as I was some sort of pervert about to show him my pecker right there in the train. Fortunately a young girl, maybe fourteen, was overhearing us and happened to understand English. She explained what I was trying to say to the man. The man was blushing so hard that his ears could have burst into flames. I got off the next station and took the connecting train to my stop. In that train, everyone was wondering why I couldn't stop from laughing. My friend would later explain that in China, embarrassing situations was politely ignored; I was being a foreigner rudely pointing it out.
