Part of the reason for my drastic move to Shanghai, was to “get back to my roots.” After leaving Taiwan at the age of 12, I had yet to live in Asia again. So, I naively thought, “Okay, Taiwan and China can’t be that different. They share the same language, more or less, and the general Chinese culture must also hold true.
Boy, was I in for a shock. Upon landing in Shanghai, I quickly realized that
a.) I am definitely more American than Taiwanese and
b.) Taiwanese is definitely not the same as Chinese.
I find myself identifying with my surroundings through a Western eye. For the most part, I am just as confused as newly arrived expats when I see women walking around the street in their PJs, or bouquets of teddy bears rather than flowers.
I look Chinese, and I speak Chinese, so I am treated as Chinese. Makes sense. Once, I was met with the most bemused looks when I asked a lady who sells pork buns if I could take a photo of her steamy bamboo crates. She looked at me strangely. Now, if I didn’t look Chinese, she would simply be amused that the foreigner is curious. But now, why does this Chinese girl want a photo of such a simple thing? Truth is, just like other foreigners, I’ve never seen it, and I wanted to document it as a foreigner would.
When I attempt to tap into my Taiwanese past in order to relate to my new surroundings, I’m once again lost. Maybe time fades the memory, but I really do not recall the Taiwanese spitting or publicly urinating on the streets this heavily in Taiwan. And where are all of my favorite Taiwanese snacks? As it turns out, few of those favorites have made their way across the strait to Shanghai. And while it’s easy to figure out simplified characters after being educated in the more elaborate, traditional writing of characters, I sometimes find myself completely lost reading the simplest things because the characters have been simplified to an unrecognizable degree.
I walk around the city everyday under the cloak of my Chinese face. For the passer-by, I am just one of the 1.4 billion of people who roam about this country, but to me, I feel differently. The ability to communicate in Chinese puts me at a better position than most Asian Americans who are in China, whom can neither understand nor be understood. To the locals, you are either a full-fledged foreigner with different color skin or you are a Chinese. Race and culture is one and the same. The idea that you are Chinese looking yet unable to neither speak the language nor understand the culture is perplexing for many.
As such, my attempt to “get back to my roots” so far has left me more confused than before. Not only do I look Chinese, but I also speak the language, so surely, I understand all of the culture intricacies of this foreign land. Not so much. Perhaps it is precisely because China, despite the politics, is largely different from Taiwan. It would be as if a long-term expatriated American attempts to find her roots in England – just because two places share the same language and similar-ish culture doesn’t make it the same at all.