No births, but deaths and marriages

Yesterday was a beautiful day in Shanghai. I had a lovely walk in the morning around the market outside my hostel. There were firecrackers everywhere strung into heart shapes. Someone was get married. The street was all ready for the bride and groom to return, lots of red paper everywhere, and two of the regular market stalls had a whole range of wedding related fireworks and signs available to buy. Usually both stalls sell socks and tights! I was impressed by the opportunism.

 

Further down the street I found several old men folding squares of silver paper into little origami boats and selling them. I had seen these before but only on TV when there's a funeral. I wondered if perhaps the traditions were linked - perhaps paper boats were for weddings too? No. These little paper boats are for funerals, and as I walked down the street I saw them lift the body into the back of an ambulance. Again, I was impressed that the old men had set up shop right there before the body had even been taken away.

 

I kind of expected to hear about a baby being born, I secretly long to be given an egg painted red (the traditional gift to friends and family from new parents when a bady arrives) and get my hopes up. Alas, no red eggs, no babies, just people going about their business with life going on around them.

The Quest to Find Who Nose

I have been confused about something for almost a week. I have asked numerous Chinese people about it, and I have been getting an even split between embarrassed laughter and claims of not knowing anything about it. In order to elaborate, I must relay a story from the end of my last visit to China.

 

Michelle and I were taking a train to Beijing. The journey is about 12 hours and we could only book the very top bunks of the sleeper train which meant we had fun clambering up and down. We shared our carriage with a young man who was hoping to take an English exam in a few months' time. His Chinese name translates at the Healthy King so that's what I'll call him from now on.

 

The Healthy King was from Beijing and spoke Chinese with the lovely rolling R of the Beijing accent. I used to really hate this sound, but now I love it and tune in to Beijing news here in Shanghai just so I can hear the purring R sound of the Capital. The three of us chatted for a few hours, Michelle will remember my glee at the translation job I was able to do so that she could chat to His Royal Healthiness. Around 11, Michelle climbed the stairs (oh so many stairs) to bedfordshire and the King and I stayed up chatting. It was the first time in a long time that I had a varied conversation with someone in China - usually chats focus on what it's like to learn Chinese, whether or not I like Chinese food and the differences between the West and China. The King and I just had a chat about stuff. Quite late, I clambered up into my vertigo inducing bed and went to sleep.

The next day, HK insisted on walking us to the subway station when we got off the train. Our chat the night before had made us pals and he was very nice to both of us - helping us with bags etc. Then, as we said our farewell, he caught me completely off guard with an incredibly intimate gesture. He stroked the length of my nose with the crook of his forefinger. I was gobsmacked and could hardly explain to Michelle what had happened - she was looking the other way at the time. It's rare to be touched by a Chinese man and even though it was just my nose, it would have been less personal if he's given me a great big kiss!

 

So, moving forward almost 12 months, I was having dinner with my new Big Brother and Big Sister and she stroked his nose in the same way. He was very embarrassed and pushed her away. I asked what the nose stroking was all about and before my Big Sister (usually the one who is very honest about everything) could finish her sentence, my Big Bro said that it meant that Big Sister really really loves him. She slapped him playfully and then tried to explain to me what it really meant - using a verb I don't know - Big Brother stepped in and decided this was not an appropriate conversation for his Little English Sister to have and sent me off to another room!

 

Last night, I was in a taxi home and having a great chat with the driver. He was of the opinion that the best way for me to have fun in China was to have a Chinese fella and an English fella - the Chinese one was to help with my language skills, cultural integration, to make sure I got home at night and to stop me from getting fat and that I should keep my English one so that I can get married and have lots of money. It was entertaining if nothing else. Anyway, as I paid for the taxi we carried on chatting, then he says "English little sister, wait a minute" and stroked the crook of his finger down my nose.

 

So, twice in one year! Two random men have fondled my nose after a nice conversation. But what does it mean?

 

Here are the answers I got today:

 

"A man should never touch a woman's nose"

"It means nothing, are you crazy?"

"Your nose is the key to your heart"

"Are you sure you didn't have something on your face?"

"Why would anyone want to touch your nose?"

 

Who nose!