The Changing Face of Communism: Seeing My America through Their Chinese Eyes

Jul 2, 2011 | 3 comments

Beijing: A worker cleans a portrait of Mao Zedong, 
the founder of the People’s Republic of China, at
Tiananmen Gate

When I moved to China I had big dreams of being arrested by Communist soldiers just for being an American Christian.  They would tie me to a wooden chair in a gray, dingy room and demand that I say bad things about God and George Bush.  I would squint at them through swollen, purple eyelids and with my best Clint Eastwood grin break into a chorus of “God Bless America.”  Then (cue music) B.A. Baracus would smash the black van through the block wall and the A-Team would shoot all of the Communist soldiers (in the feet of course), pull me to into the van, crash through another wall and drive off into the sunset leaving a room full of angry, hopping bad guys shaking their fists and shouting Chinese (prime-time approved) obscenities.

Ok, I threw in the A-team for dramatic, blogging effect but suffice it to say my expectations of China (especially Communist China) were painted and tainted by both incomplete, historical facts, and action packed, Hollywood fiction.  Walking through Chinese customs the first time was nerve-wrenching.  I braced myself for the trip to the back room for questioning and light torture.  I resolved in my mind to go peacefully as long as they did not harm my family.  I handed the uniformed “soldier” our passports . . . heart pounding . . . sweating profusely.  He opened each one carefully, studied the pictures and looked back at each of us . . . one by one.  This is the moment.  Will this Communist let us in to Communist China or send us to a Communist re-education camp?  I’ll never forget what he said . . . “thank you.”  He returned our passports and motioned for us to move on.  It was only then that I noticed the “please rate my service” buttons on his desk.  I pressed “very satisfied”.

“Arise, all people of the world, to topple Imperialist America! 
To topple Soviet revisionism! To topple the reactionary parties 
of all nations!” (Chinese poster, 1969)
bold text corresponds to blackened characters

Last week I made a quick trip back to the States.  Checking in at the Beijing airport I noticed an older Chinese woman.  I know she was Chinese because she jumped in front of the entire line . . . and she spoke Chinese (I have finely tuned skills of deduction).  It was obvious that she was not accustomed to airport protocol and I assumed (right or wrong) that this was her first trip to America.  I could only imagine what she was dreaming of and I pondered what facts and fiction had painted and tainted those dreams.  She had obviously lived through the Cultural Revolution, a time when America was projected as enemy number one and a vicious, Imperialist threat seeking to overthrow the world and destroy the noble values that her generation was dying to uphold.  She had also lived in a China where, for many, the highest aspiration has been a new life in a Western nation.  Was she anxious?  Nervous?  Excited?  Afraid?  Did she have the Communist Party A-Team on speed dial?

I didn’t see her again until we landed in Chicago where  I made the rookie mistake of using the restroom before getting in the customs line.  When I came out the end of the line was in Iowa.  Armed police officers were moving everyone to the back by loudly and bluntly insisting,

“Everyone move to the back of the line. This is not the line.  Please move to the back of the line quickly. The back of the line is no longer in Illinois.  It’s in Iowa.  Please go there now!” 


Everyone settled in for the long march and immediately began striking up conversations with total strangers so we could vent about the rude police and the long line.  Then the police (still armed) returned and began yelling again,

“Visitors!  Any non-U.S. passport holders, please come with us.  There is another line for non-U.S. passport holders only.” 

We were jealous and continued venting.

One at a time they herded foreign passport families and marched them away.  That’s when I saw the Chinese woman from the airport.  She was completely dazed and confused, as was the rest of her family.  The officers approached and asked to see their passports.  When they didn’t respond the officers grabbed the passports from their hands and said “come with us.”  They were even more confused.  (I could tell because I have mastered the “I have no idea what you are saying” look over five years in China [and I have finely tuned skills of deduction]).  I jumped in to help and told them in Chinese, “You can go with them.”  They were obviously still confused so I repeated myself, “You can go with them.”  And so they did.

It wasn’t until later that I had time to process the whole scene through her eyes.  This poor woman understood nothing that was happening.  All she saw was people being pushed to the end of a long line by loud, demanding “soldiers” (with guns).  Then the “soldiers” singled her and her family out, looked at their papers and said, “come with us!” which sounded like “flooby shooby doopie poo!” until a big white guy with a thick American accent said, “you can go with them.” It sounds like a scene from Schindler’s List.  What was she thinking at that very moment?  Back room?  Interrogation?  Light torture?  “Is this Imperialist shipping us to an Imperialist re-education camp?” And so went her first twenty minutes in America.

Honestly . . . that was more of what I thought China might be like.  I’m hoping the customs agents were nice to her and that she got a chance to rate their service.

Three statements and I’ll shut up.

1.  The gap between assumption and reality is often broader than it need be.


2.  Seeing yourself through the eyes of the people you are looking at (no matter how Communist) . . . couldn’t hurt.

3.  Little, old Chinese lady:  If you ever stumble across this blog and you have learned to read English (or use Google translate) I just want you to know that I am truly sorry for not being more reassuring about where you were going and I hope that once you got in you enjoyed my country as much as I have enjoyed yours.  God bless America.  God bless China.

Dear Unnamed American Airline

Jul 1, 2011 | 1 comment

Dear Unnamed American Airline, (no relation to the real American Airlines™)

I recently flew with you from Chicago to Beijing and have one small suggestion that might improve the quality of your service.  Please consider banning Chinese people (especially older ones) from boarding your planes.

It quickly became obvious (and more painfully so over the course of our 12 hours and 6 minutes together) that the cultural challenges of dealing with Chinese passengers (especially older ones) were both distracting and irritating to your flight staff.  Repeatedly, flight attendants were placed in an awkward position requiring them to roll their eyes, flare their noses, grit their teeth, raise their voices and repeat themselves over and over and over again.  This level of stress cannot be healthy and I believe should be avoided in an effort to protect your valuable human resources.

May I take a moment to commend you, however, on your commitment to bridging that gap.  It was obvious that your staff had been well trained in the SATLTAD (scream at them like they are deaf) method of communicating across a language barrier which we all know is the most effective way to help people understand a language they don’t speak.

“Sir you need to sit down the ‘fasten seat belts’ sign is illuminated.  SIR.  SIR.  SIR You’re going to need to sit down NOW.  SIR.  SIR You NEED TO SIT DOWN the SEAT BELT SIGN IS ILLUMINATED . . .  IL-LUM-I-NA-TED.  SIR!  SIR! Aw forget it, just stand up.”

It may be helpful, however, to refresh your staff in the more advanced methods of pretending to speak Spanish (to deaf people).  “El SEAT BELTO . . . DE LA SIGNO . . . ES ILLUMINATO!”  Just a suggestion.

I understand the concern of losing ticket sales and am sympathetic to your bottom line so I also have a second option for consideration.  You may consider requiring culture and language training designed to bridge the most obvious barriers and overcome the most common challenges.  I feel that adding this as a mandatory protocol for all Chinese passengers (especially the older ones) would be worth the investment in that it would make the entire flight more palatable and enjoyable for your flight attendants which would in turn lead to fewer disgruntled employees, lower turnover and increased profit margins.  Brilliant.

Your position is a challenging one and I do not envy you at all.  Faced with the global financial crisis that has wreaked havoc on the airline industry you are forced to make the difficult decisions that will give you the greatest return and an edge in a viciously competitive market.  Obviously costly details like translating the safety instruction video into Chinese are unaffordable luxuries in this economic climate but I have one final suggestion that would, no doubt, bring a predictable return.  Simply include in your branding the mantra of the ugly American: “Speak English or Go Home.”

Wait . . . scratch that . . . they were going home.  Ok try this:  “Speak English or Fly Asiana.”

I Miss You America

Jun 29, 2011 | 2 comments

Dear America,

It was great to see you again and even though we didn’t have much time to catch up I realized how much I have missed you.  They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder and frankly . . . I think that’s bunk. I am convinced though, now more than ever, that being away for so long has opened my eyes to a whole load of qualities that I never knew I loved about you.  I love your baseball and apple pies but who doesn’t?  I miss your purple mountains majesty and your fruited plains but China has those too.  Ok, I’m not sure they have purple mountains but to be honest I haven’t seen yours either I was just saying that.  Where are they exactly?  I bet they’re cool.  Point is, I’ll always miss your big stuff but it’s your cute little quirks that really got to me this time.

I miss your gas stations.  I really miss driving a car but it’s more than that.  I feel at home in your filling stations.  We have a bond.  I know that whether I am traveling your highways or trolling your cities I am not far from a giant, well lit sign with removable numbers that inexplicably add an extra decimal point to your currency.  Three dollars and forty three point nine cents for a gallon of gas?  You don’t see that in other countries.  I also know that I will be warmly welcomed by at least eight different flavors of coffee, a shining wall of refrigerated carbonation and multiple thousands of bags and boxes of sicky sweet,  uber-hydrogenated, ultra-processed, slickly marketed variations of corn, wheat, meat and chocolate surrounded by t-shirts and fake license plates that offer brilliant wisdom with proverbs like “There’s too much blood in my alcohol system” and “Did you eat a bowl of stupid for breakfast?”.  I miss you America.

I miss your waiters and waitresses.  I miss that little speech at the beginning of a meal that goes something like, “Hi, my name is Alan and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”  You know why I miss that so much?  Because I really believe that Alan will indeed take care of me.  He frequently asks me if “WE”RE doing okay over here” even though I am the only one at the table.  Why so plural Alan?  You know why?  Because Alan is in this thing with me.  We’re connected he and I and he is genuinely and deeply concerned about how I am doing over here.  And if I am not doing okay then WE are not doing okay.  I miss that.  Some people say it’s about the tip.  Cynics.  They don’t know Alan like I do.  He told me as he gave me the bill (and I quote),  “if there is ANYTHING else I need” just let him know.  That’s a true friend.  Out of respect for Alan I refused to cheapen our relationship by leaving a tip . . . or should I say a bribe?  Alan would never take money to be my friend . . . I know because as I walked away he waved and though I could not read his lips he gestured, “you’re number one!”  No sir my friend.  You are.  I’ll miss you Alan and I miss you America.


I miss your loud mouths.  I have a confession to make America.  On previous trips I have been overwhelmed and even annoyed by your news anchors, your “investigative reporters” and your radio talk show host.  Your obsession with presenting the conflicting argument no matter what the original argument is has, at times, seemed to be spinning out of control.  Maybe it was the brevity of my trip but this time I found myself chuckling and even entertained.  In China the news is accepted with little public outcry but not in you America.  You accept nothing.  You expose it and crush it and beat the living daylights out of it and when there is no daylight left in it you hoist it on a stick and march it through the city streets.  Sure someone fed homeless people but how much did that free soup really cost the taxpayers?  Sure someone’s pet goldfish dialed 911 and saved an elderly man who was having a heart attack but should the price of fish food be covered by medicare?  I miss you America.


It was good to hang out again America.  It was good to be reminded that a nation is not the sum of its stereotypes.  It was nice to remember that you are so much more than the face I see on the news and the conversation I have with Chinese taxi drivers.

Hang in there.  You are missed.

Royal Schmoyal – Now THIS is a Wedding!

May 31, 2011 | 1 comment

Did you watch the Royal wedding a few weeks ago?  BOOORINGGGG!!  No fireworks.  No marching band. No confetti cannons.  And in all of the pomp and circumstance, among all of the Dukes and Duchesses, Mickey and Minnie Mouse were noticeably absent.  The nerve.

China knows how to celebrate a marriage.  Caught this one with my cell phone last week coming in the front gate of our apartment complex.

Waiting patiently
I always had a hunch that Mickey was Chinese but I had no clue that Minnie was a man or that Tigger was a chain smoker.  Live and learn.

A Confused Groom
I have no idea what is happening here.  I can only assume that the groom has been drinking and thinks this is Daisy.  This marriage can’t last.

Engaging the Senses
A deafening marching band standing in a smoldering fire started by leftover firecracker gunpowder and confetti.  Do not attempt this at home (as if you’ve got a confetti cannon . . . or a tuba)

No horns please . . . Oh wait
My wife pointed out the irony of this picture considering the sign . . . and the trumpets.



Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Chinese Newlyweds.  Maybe you could pass your wedding planners number on to the Royal Family.

On Smoking Dope in China

May 30, 2011 |

Betcha’ didn’t know.  Tommy Chong (of Cheech and
Chong dope smoking fame) was born the son a a
Chinese truck driver.

Crack kills everywhere but especially in China.  Make a note — drug trafficking is on a list with 67 other offenses that are currently punishable by death in China  (you might also want to jot down espionage, smuggling nuclear materials and killing a panda).  With such harsh punishments you might presume that China would be one big drug free zone.  However, illegal drug use is a growing problem that is fueled by a growing economy.  More expendable income and more free time equal a higher demand for a “higher” state of consciousness.

I had a riveting conversation with two groups of young Chinese professionals last week about drugs in China and here’s what they had to say:

It’s a rich thing
Both groups immediately mentioned pop singers and movie stars (another industry growing rapidly with China’s new found wealth).  They then extended the list of users to business people and others with more money than they know what to do with.  They laughed when I asked if poor people used drugs too.

It’s a party thing
KTV (karaoke bars) and discos are where the cool kids hang out.  Clubbing is another growing fad and just like the rest of the world clubs and drugs go hand in hand.

It’s a “them” thing
Out of sixteen people that I spoke with none of them had ever tried drugs.  I tried to imagine a random group of sixteen urban professionals in the West who had never once even smoked a joint (inhaling or not).  I couldn’t.  I probed a little further and discovered that none of them even knew anyone personally who had ever tried drugs.  I’ve asked this question to at least dozens (maybe hundreds) of Chinese friends and always get the same results.  Obviously China has a growing drug problem but it still hasn’t hit the mainstream.

It’s a new thing
The sixties, in China, were a time of unbelievable challenge, famine and painful revolution.  Not a lot of time for smoking pot or dropping acid.  In contrast, remember the sixties in America?  Then you weren’t there (sorry – old joke).  China may or may not be experiencing a new drug awakening but the drug culture is young and living it up.  They haven’t yet been blasted by the fallout from widespread addiction and abuse.  High crime, poverty, homelessness, prostitution and panda killings are not yet driven (at least on a large scale) by an unquenchable craving for highness.

Drugs may seem new and sexy now but this is far from China’s first bout with substance abuse.  The last one ended with millions of Chinese opium addicts, two major and horrific wars, the loss of Hong Kong to the British and a grudge that may have fueled more than a century of hatred for the West.

It also prompted the passing of a law allowing the death penalty for drug traffickers.  Hmm.    

Scotty and Lauren Got Nothing on These Guys

May 25, 2011 |

Just in case you need a quick break from Idol Mania, here’s a taste of what’s hot in the Middle Kingdom (that’s China).  Gong Li Na was a popular Chinese folk singer already but this song has gone uber-viral on the internet making her a household name.  The song is entitled “Tan Te” which means “perturbed, fidgety or mentally disturbed” (you’ll understand when you watch).  The lyrics are actually untranslatable into any language and hard to describe but listen a couple of times and they’ll be stuck in your head for the rest of the day. Sing them for the rest of the day and everyone around you will be perturbed, fidgety or mentally disturbed.  Enjoy.

This song (like anything popular) has opened the door for knock-offs, remixes and spoofs.  This one is my favorite.  Same song . . . Milli Vanilli style (I miss the eighties).