Hwrrraaawk, Ptui

Today, just one the way from the SPR kafeiting to my bus stop, no fewer than five Chinese (all men) felt the need to clear their throats and spit loudly on the street as they passed me. In each case, the noisy expectorator made a clear point of establishing eye contact either before or after their performance. This is one of the things I'd rather not know while living in China: that I'm usually the cause of these disgusting little displays.

A few months ago Dawei informed me that Chinese commonly use this gut-churning sound (gut-churning and entirely unnecessary sound, since this drawn-out hawking is made in the mouth more than the throat and doesn't, therefore, produce any more sputum to be expelled) as a sign of contempt. Initially, I was skeptical of this--the very idea that people were even possibly doing this as a commentary on me. Then I took the time to repeat Dawei's own experiment: every time I heard this sound, I repeated it. Just as in Dawei's experiences, every time I made the hawking sound after hearing it, the person I was mimicking would repeat the sound, again and again; as many times as I "cleared" my throat, he or she (but usually he) would repeat the sound again, as though being the last to hawk were the final word in expressing contempt. In the week or so that I played around with this little phenomenon, my personal record for the number of times I prompted one person to make the hawking sound was eight.

After about a week, I gave the whole experiment up as a stupid waste of time. After all, by responding to the noises in any way, I just reinforce the disgusting little habit and give the stupid little people who treasure this insult more reason to use it. (Granted, even if I don't give such people a reason to despise me, they probably will anyway, but I don't have to justify their pettiness.) Now I do my best to ignore the sound and not look up when I hear it, figuring that without the eye contact it loses much of its power. Today was just a weak point in avoiding looking. I also try to relish the almost laughable irony built into this particular means of communication: namely, that in order to express contempt for a foreigner, so many nationalistic morons find spitting on their own country to be most effective.

"Quick Notes: Heartbreak, Earaches, Floodgates"
Originally posted: 07:25, 2007-10-28

1) Bad news this evening: I was planning on going to Andes Cafe tonight for a good cup of coffee and maybe a slice of cheesecake to unwind after class. Unfortunately, the cafe was locked up. Inside the furniture is piled up in a way that suggests more than a nightly cleaning, and a sign on the door says something about "zai 12 yue" (in December). It looks as though it's closed down, at least for a month or two. Just when I was learning how to say fajitas in Chinese, it seems I have no reason to say it. I only hope my reading of the sign is terribly wrong. [Note: Andes is of course now open again, much to my joy. 08-01-17]

2) I've compiled my list of the Seven (auditory) Habits of Highly Annoying Chinese people. First, the honking; while some think, "To be is to do," and others think, "To do is to be," it's very clear from even a moment beside a road that the Chinese think, "To honk is to drive, and to honk is to drive." Second, the English; whether shouting, "Hay-lu," "Hello," or "Howahyu," Chinese couldn't be more annoying than when trying to communicate with a waiguoren in English, usually from a distance of at least ten feet, and the practice is made none the less irritating than their often choosing to walk past you on the sidewalk, only to shout at your retreating back. Third, the hawking; as though it weren't bad enough that they chose to spit constantly in the street, the Chinese who do so cannot do so quietly, but instead precede each spit with a painful sounding, drawn out and completely needless "Hwraaaaak," as though advertising their own contribution to poor hygeine. Fourth, the put-upon xiaojie voice; this high-pitched, whiny, and completely feigned voice, used only for complaining, sounds more like Beaker from the Muppets than anything else, only Beaker rarely talked for half an hour at a time. Fifth, the reverse snort; I've recently noticed a habit, primarily among men, to blow short bursts of breath out through their nostrils at irregular but frequent intervals, and as one of my students noted yesterday, it's not unusual for this habit to cause flakes of dried mucus to dislodge and spray wherever the guilty nose happens to be pointed. Sixth, the lip-smack; when stopping to think while speaking English, most Chinese do not mutter, "Ah, um," but open their mouths wetly, producing a moist "tick" that just grates on my nerves. Seventh, the eating; most Chinese eat with their mouths open and as loudly as possible (creating a steady rhythm of "tick"s much louder than the thinking pause), and matters are not helped by their slurping noodles with a sound like the one made by a dental vacuum.

3) On Friday night, my post-nasal drip developed into a full-blown cold, making me, I'm sure, just as annoying a source of sounds as any Chinese person could ever be--snort, sniff, sniff, cough, cough, sniff, snort. There are some advantages to living in a country in which you can spit anywhere you want, at least when you're sick. By the time I got home Saturday night, I had a pounding headache from the congestion and had to sit under a hot shower for a full thirty minutes to feel a bit clearer. After the shower, I sat on my couch a while, listening to music, and promptly fell asleep. I woke around midnight and had to immediately take a shower again and do some laundry: while I slept, my sinuses had spontaneously drained themselves, down the front of my shirt. Today, at least, I've been feeling much better and have only had to blow my nose a few times.