I am sitting in at my hotel lounge in Shanghai China , enjoying a good cigar. It is the forth week in Asia, and my second in China. The first week here my wife was able to join. She did the sightseeing, and I heard the exciting report after my day at work. Being my last full day here, I was feeling a little reflective.
Being a westerner in Asia can be quite an experience. It has helped me to better appreciate what God did when he confused the languages at Babel. This city has about 20 million people in it, I am told. Most of them speak little or no English. For weeks I have been hearing people chatter away, not able to understand most of what they say. It can be a little surreal.
After a while one just tunes it out like white noise. What else can you do? The few westerners I do see are not necessarily going to speak English either. You hear a lot of French and German. Still one goes about one’s business, as if there is no language barrier. I talk to people in English, and expect them to understand. Amazingly, many do.
People overcome the language barrier in many ways. Shop keepers all have calculators nearby to punch out prices, which will usually drop perhaps 50 percent before you leave. All the essentials are understood. “Come look and see…” the shop keepers plead. At most restaurants they know what to do when you say “Check.”
If I get tired of it all, I can always go to one of the ubiquitous McDonalds or Starbucks – home away from home. There the menu is the same regardless of how foreign the setting. All I need to do is to point to Number One, Big Mac, and the picture of the upgrade in size for fries and drink, and then the Coca Cola logo. Order is understood and delivered. It was always rather cute the way the Japanese girls would cheerfully chatter away at me, saying whatever they say to everyone else, not blinking an eye at the fact that I did not know what they were saying.
Pretending that people understand you works to a point. When I order a “Grande Coffee” at Starbucks, I usually get what I want. However, if I vary my order slightly, and order a “Grande Sumantra” (which is what is brewing), sometimes confusion ensues. Asking them to leave room for milk, will often result with milk being added. Some things just don’t translate. When you order a bowl of “soup” in America, you get a single serving of soup. When you order soup in China, you get a bowl about ten inches in diameter and about 4 inches deep, which will feed about four to six people. You quickly learn to not order soup. Many of the meals in China are meant to be eaten with others. You get maybe six courses, which you share with four or six others. Somehow that seems better than the American custom of each person ordering for themselves, and everyone asking if their meal was good.
My hotel is a sanctuary where most employees speak some English and there are a few English TV channels. It is harder when you are at a place where they do not get as many foreign visitors. TV is unintelligible, and even the room controls can be a challenge.
One thing that stands out though is that English is clearly a universal language. If there is anything in a language that is not the native language, it is in English. Most of the street signs, and many of the menu alternatives are in English. When you meet a fellow western traveler, you speak to them in English and they speak back, even though it is clear that English is not their first language. Sometimes I feel guilty for not knowing other languages. Obviously, I am missing out on a lot. Still, if it were not for English, I wonder if we would all be like the residents of Babel and scatter to the winds, looking for people who we can communicate with?
There is a lady singing in Chinese with piano accompaniment. It sounds like a lot of ballads to me. The locals seem to be pleased. It is peaceful. Tomorrow I leave for India.
