The other day as I was browsing around my neighborhood supermarket, I found a summer skirt I liked in the clothing section. I visit this supermarket nearly every other day, but I had never bought clothes here before. I waved over a supermarket worker and asked her where I was supposed to pay for the skirt (you often have to buy clothes & some beauty products separately from your regular groceries.) She filled out a paper and escorted me over to a small cashier hidden in the beauty & hygiene department. I paid a whopping $4, tucked the skirt in my bag and walked home. Later I saw that the security tag was still attached to the waistband.
Although I was a little worried that I did not have sufficient vocabulary to explain the situation, I returned to the store the next day. I showed the security tag to the girl minding the security gate (the one that should have alarmed when I left the store…) Immediately, she understood and directed me to the cashier who would remove the tag. No one wanted to see my receipt. Evidently, everyone in the store was aware that the laowai had purchased a skirt yesterday. I actually understood when someone said, “oh, yeah, that’s the skirt she bought yesterday.”
After the supermarket, I stopped at a vendor selling bread. It is a husband and wife operation. The husband rolls out the dough pieces and places them to cook inside a tandoor-style oven while his wife sells the finished product. When she saw me coming, the wife remarked to the other customers waiting for the bread to finish that I always buy from her and I always buy 1RMB worth. (Which amounts to 4 small flat breads, kind of like pita.)
More and more I realize can’t do anything in this neighborhood without the whole neighborhood knowing. 
On my walk home I passed a group of old men who habitually sit on the sidewalk together, gossiping and people watching. I pass them just about everyday. I always nod or smile at them, occasionally telling them ni hao. Everyday they just watch me, saying nothing.
Yesterday, there was a “new” old man in the group and when he saw me, he exclaimed to his friends, “Hey! There’s a laowai.”
“Yup,” replied the other men. And then, miracles of miracles, they all smiled and told me hello. I suspect they wanted to show off a little to the new old man, but I couldn’t help feeling a little victorious, that finally they had acknowledged me in a friendly manner.
Even though I am obviously the “laowai,” I am a part of this neighborhood.
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I wish blogs had a “like” feature like FB, because I definitely “like” this post. I can truly relate to what you’re saying! You fit into your unique neighborhood in your unique way. I “like” it! Thumbs up!
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globalgal Reply:
July 28th, 2009 at 13:31
Thanks! Now I’m just trying to get one group of ladies who sit together and shell peas to acknowledge me!
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Hi, thanks for coming by my blog, I am enjoying yours. This post makes me think of my first days in Mexico, living on the small island of Cozumel. Walking down residential streets after two weeks there I heard someone say “Hola Kelly!” and smile and wave. I asked them how they knew who I was and they replied that everyone knew “la guera” (the white girl). He knew where I had been and who I had been with the night before, apparently everyone did.
CancunCanuck´s last blog ..Es Un Pingo
[Reply]
globalgal Reply:
August 7th, 2009 at 17:32
That is funny! Sometimes I feel like I’m living under a microscope!
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