As a foreigner in China, sometimes you touch people in ways you never realized. Something you say or do in a moment — a small, forgettable thing to you — becomes a lasting impression to someone else.
I didn’t think much about swimming at the Chenjinglun pool in Hangzhou. I’d been going there since September. By early December, 2002, it was just a part of my routine — a way to get some exercise, while my usual gym was closed for renovation.
Chenjinglun was a typical indoor pool in China. It had lanes roped off for lap swimming. Yet, with the evening demand, you often shared a lane with as many as two or three people. I didn’t mind the sharing. But more people together means more collisions — such as getting clipped by a scissor kick, or clobbered by a front crawl.
That’s why my swimming routine also included flexing my language muscles. Because, if anyone got too close to me, or bumped me, I’d let them know with a firm, but polite, “Xiaoxin!” (Be careful) It was simply communication, acting as my lifeguard.
But, in fact, it’s not so simple when you’re a foreigner, speaking Chinese in China. Continue reading “Chapter 31: An Unintended Splash at the Hangzhou Pool”