Minding my Manners

The hacking cough pre-warned me, and I shortened my stride to avoid the phlegmy spit that arced past me to detonate on the footpath. The grin of the throat-clearing chef beside me reminded me that i wasn't strolling past an oncology ward, but a city street in China. As he returned to his shift  we followed him inside - while I was hoping that his culinary expertise were at least as good as his lung-butter ballistics.

As surprised as i was by display of mucous-management outside, my western sensibilities were further assailed inside. Years of social conditioning (as well as covert kicks and death-stares from my mother when eating with company) has drilled into me habits like chewing with my mouth closed, not slurping drinks, and not picking up bowls.

Chinese manners are different.

Chewing with an open mouth is fine, as is picking up your bowl to shovel rice into your mouth. Draining the soup from your noodle bowl doesn't require a spoon, and burping seems best appreciated at the dinner table (an indication of being satisfied by the meal). 

My first impression was that Chinese meals are entirely unmannered. However, as my friend explained throughout the meal, Chinese culture is deeply respectful and superstitious, and contains traditions and eating customs that predate western eating etiquette by thousands of years.

While spitting bones onto the table will have nobody looking askance, whoever is ordering for the table would never risk the embarrassment of people going hungry, and will always order at least one more dish than the number of guests (preferably rounding up to avoid an odd number of dishes, which is considered unlucky). If dining with elders, younger guests will invariably honor their older 'auntie' or 'uncle' by serving them the choicest parts of a dish (which seems to always include the head of whichever animal).

Chinese manners are certainly different, but as i catch myself slurping soup from the bowl i wonder if i'll ever be able to revert back.