In Which Louder and Slower Make No Difference

Just over the Construction Bridge in downtown Korla, on the east side of the road, is a tiny cafe sardined between a place to get your hair cut and a place to buy faux American sneakers. This cafe is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it sort of place, squat and windowless and seven feet wide. It serves the best bao-zi (steamed dumplings) in China.

So, I eat there a lot -- so often, in fact, that I don't have to order anymore. I sit down and one of the ladies who work there brings me a basket of vegetable bao-zi. Then we grin in understanding: She knows I can't read the menu, but she also knows that doesn't matter because I don't want soup or stir-fry or anything else. I come for the dumplings.

Today, like every other time I eat there, I finished, sighed contentedly and pulled three yuan from my pocket to give to the woman who owns the cafe. This time, though, she approached my table.

"Hao chi (delicious)!" I effused.

She said something I didn't understand, so I smiled and gave her my "Eh?" expression. She repeated herself, and I confessed I didn't understand. Third time, and I saw that human nature runs true. People are people, and our very essence transcends geography, culture and every other conceivable artifice.

The third time she repeated herself, she... slowed... waaaaaayyy... down... and PUMPED UP THE VOLUME, beaming all the while.

This made me think of all those "Things to Do Before You Die" lists I've read in magazines, pretentious things that insist I should swim with sharks or climb K2 or run for public office. They also generally advise living overseas, to broaden my horizons and expand my mind and be exposed to the Grand Panorama and blah blah blah.

Those are worthwhile reasons, I guess, but not entirely honest. The most startling thing living abroad has done is expose me to myself. It's been one giant, humbling mirror. Today, I vividly recalled every time I tried communicating with someone who doesn't speak English BY... TALKING... LIKE... THIS... LOUDER... AND... SLOWER. Surprisingly, this has never succeeded in making my message understood.

I was gratified to learn today that it's not just my bad habit, but a human constant. The lady at the cafe was trying her hardest to make me understand. And it turned out that all she wanted to do was give me a souvenir pair of chopsticks.

I may not have understood the words, but I recognized the kindness of her intent and, extremely touched, accepted them with a heartfelt thank-you and good-bye: "XIE... XIE... ZAI... JIAN."