The Streets of Tianjin (My First Day of Freedom)

The people of Tianjin are not happy on a Tuesday. It is a busy, dry winter day. Most coldly scuttle by, some glance at the tall, white foreigner, but not many--because today is a workday. Delivery drivers dart past on scooters padded with a thick cloth windshield, to shield the wind for the body, not the face. Nearby the hotel, there are two homeless people in front of the Daoist temple, one male and one female, both in their 50's. The man shakes a small pot with two coins and a one yuan bill inside. He says hello in English, so I gave him more than anyone else has all day. I gave him a five yuan bill, or roughly 80 cents. It will buy one bag of chips. There is an interesting balance with giving to the homeless in Asian communities. The taboo is quite high, to the best of my knowledge. One reason you will not find them with many large bills, or people who give them, is because of the shame factor. It is certainly not as bad in Tianjin as it was on the streets of Seoul (so far). This may come as a surprise to those of you that know anything about Chinese and Korean politics, but they share a similar work ethic. In Korea, you would not be allowed to shake a pot of coins, the cops would stop you-- in Korea, the homeless don't show their faces. They bury them on the concrete sidewalk outside of the subway exits, both hands held open in the gesture of a pleading bow. This is not Tianjin, so far. Here the homeless get just as little, but sometimes shake pots and say hello. 

Everywhere I want to go: the market, the restaurants, and stores, have all made a requirement for you to pay or check-in with a QR code from WeChat or Alipay, the two massive apps that direct daily life in China. When I say massive, I mean bigger than you can imagine - imagine combining Amazon with Facebook, the DMV and your banking APP,  your file exchanges, everything except email - and you have WeChat and Alipay. At this point, I am brand new - I have no bank account, or way to verify my identity through these actual apps, because I have no Chinese phone number. All I have is cash, and a Chinese vocabulary of 10 words, but I have been cooped up for 21 days, so I am hitting the streets, baby! 

I walk into a place with delicious-looking hot pots brimming with meats and veggies in a red sauce, and the very kind owner points to the QR code on a table at the front. I shake my head, and open my wallet, showing cash, hoping he understands I want to pay with physical money. He says 'sorry,' and I nod and leave. It was a full week later that I realized he was asking me to scan my 'health code,' a QR code that shows you are not sick, or have a chance of spreading Covid or SARS. I laughed and wondered if he thought I was trying to pay him off, instead of just get a meal. Also, why didn't my school explain this to me? That would have saved countless hours of embarrassment. 

 It's late afternoon at this point, and I walk into another restaurant. There is a gathering of about six people all crowded around the register, taking a picture-- I am certain it is a family-owned restaurant. They all freeze and look up at me. I smile and once again point to my wallet, and the owner shakes his head, while the others laugh. I don't exactly understand, but am almost certain they are not open until the evening, or the restaurant is brand new not even open to the public yet. I laugh and say "再见,"

(zài jiàn) or goodbye/see you again. I am the ignorant foreigner, at least for now. Communicating as a language learner is a humbling experience. However, let me say this - I'm glad I'm learning Chinese in China, or that I was able to learn Korean in S. Korea, as opposed to English in America. Many of my fellow Americans treat language learners and ESL foreigners like dirt, and ridicule their broken English, but over here people are kind and understanding to my broken tongue. They are happy you are trying. Please don't say things like "learn the language!" in a country where nobody speaks a Native American tongue in public, you sound like an asshole. 

Naive to the health code situation, cash only appears to be working at the convenience stores and little "mom & pop" quick serves that don't have pictures of the food, and probably make 90% of their menu from wheat products, so I stay clear. I get some Kimchi chips and a Snickers bar for 14 Yuan, and head back to the hotel. I need to find a better source of food-- I'm not worried, but more intrigued that it is this different to eat here. Years of having Celiac's Disease trained me to be patient and organized with food preparation. So-- don't worry about me. On the return home, I remember how normalized it is in Asia to hock up a big loogie on the street. 50% of people just do it. 60 year-old ajummas do it-- the sound is the second most common, one down the list from car horns. However, the third most common sound, is one of my favorites. It is the pigeon call. Followed by number four, the flap of their wings.

The pigeons of Tianjin are not the same 'flying rat' of a bird described by New Englanders-- they are a surprisingly majestic creature here. They are more akin to flying dolphins. The Tuesday pigeons are the opposite of the people in mood. I can only assume Tuesday is a social holiday for pigeons. They are excited, happy, loquacious and they are beautiful-- white and gray with a chromatic teal. They house themselves on abandoned window sills and rooftops, but they belong more than anything else. The Daoist temple is closed for maintenance, so I call it a day. 

The Local Bus Schedule: 

Chinese cigarettes are so colorful! 

The temple from the streets, and from my window at the hotel: 

(Written on January 12th, Events on December 28th - still playing catch-up)