Leaving China – Anthropological Goggles and Surveillance Cameras

I wasn’t sad to leave China.

The culture of this country has captured my fancy for decades—traditional Chinese medicine, martial arts, calligraphy, the five phases, feng shui, spicy stir fry…the list of enticing inventions and concepts goes on and on. I’ve studied China extensively, written scholarly papers, even a summer camp curriculum.

Given this familiarity, I guess I expected it to feel like home. It didn’t.

You know, I think I had figured my studies in anthropology built up my immunity to culture shock—as if I had special anthropological goggles that would help me to see differences in a measurable, scientific, unemotional way.

Overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of people here.

Instead, I was repulsed by the spitting, offended by the jostling, jarred by the shouting, and overall, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of people here.

I realized the enormity of difference yesterday when, in Uzbekistan, a man apologized for bumping my toe as if he had made some gross, offensive error.

Meeting her was worth the entire trip!

Now, already, I’m feeling guilty for saying these things aloud. We met many wonderful people in China. There were scores of folks on the street asking amiable questions about our family. Our gracious landlady saved us when the ATM machine kept our bank card. Our friend Blair searched for an hour to find us amidst the crowds in Tiananmen Square. And our friend Jiang Jiang? Meeting her was worth the entire trip!

Scan your phone to receive toilet paper.

Maybe what had me most feeling oppressed was the watchful eye of the Chinese government. Cameras were scanning for good citizenship at the crosswalks in Shanghai. Heavily armed guards were standing attention at the subway stations in Beijing. At the Great Wall, we were asked to scan our phones in the restroom to receive toilet paper.

In Xinjiang, especially, security was high—traffic cameras flashed at every intersection, metal detectors guarded the entrance to every store and hotel, passport checks occurred at all the tourist sites. We met a Swiss family traveling to Tibet in their motorhome. In this “sensitive area,” they were required to pay for an escort, a guard who would accompany them at all times and ensure that they stayed on the permitted roads.

At the time, these vigilant devices seemed like peculiarities. Really, aside from slight leanings toward jaywalking, I have nothing to hide from the Chinese powers that be. After three weeks, though, I was aware of a subtle discomfort. My life did not feel my own here. I was one of many, many others being shepherded by the state.

The effect was profoundly unsettling.

I’m unaccustomed to feelings of suspicion where governments are concerned. I think in the future, I will be enjoying the many commendable accomplishments of Chinese culture from the comfort of my own country.