Can They Tell? (I'm a Foreigner)

I obviously know I'm a foreigner. And the customs officer who ushered me into Beijing obviously knew I was a foreigner. But what about the locals here? In Beijing, I look just like everyone else. So the question is: Can they tell I'm a foreigner?

During my first few days here I felt like I got a couple of stares (definitely not to the extent that Jason gets stared at here) - but why? Why are they staring at me? I had a couple theories...
1) Is there something about my polite mannerisms that tip them off? (Like the way say "sorry" in mandarin when I walk through the crowded subway. Or how I cross the street timidly instead of aggressively while cars, bikes, and motorcycles swerve past me?)
2) Is it something about the way I dress that gives me away? (Do army green chinos and a lace camisole make for an unusual outfit choice? Is my haircut uncommon here? Is my shirt sitting too low on my bosom?!?)
3) Or am I just so vain and so incredibly beautiful that people just can't stop staring?

All these questions flood my mind as I people watch, and as people watch me.
But the truth is, all the people I've encountered can't tell I'm foreign. That is, until I open my mouth - or rather, until they open their mouths and I respond with a blank stare or an expression that reads: "?!?!?!" (That would be the contents of my cartoon thought bubble if gloriagoestochina were a comic strip instead.) It's surprising to me sometimes how many young people here don't understand English, but I guess they could say the same about me - not being fluent in Mandarin.

When I go anywhere, like a restaurant or a shopping mall (without Jason), the staff greet me and serve me in Mandarin. If I think I understand what they're saying, I usually respond with a nod and smile. But if they ask me a question, then we're in trouble. I resort to my limited botched Mandarin, sometimes trying to use Cantonese in hopes it will sound similar, or I try to use gestures and pointing if all else fails (but sometimes it's like playing charades with a really incompetent partner). I'm really thankful for all the pictures on most menus that I can point at, otherwise I wouldn't be able to communicate what I wanted, nor would I know what I was ordering (because sometimes the English translations of Chinese menu items can sound very unappetizing - like soup with pig trotter jelly? No, thanks.)

On some days that are particularly frustrating, I would imagine what life would be like if I were Jason... strutting down the streets of Beijing with my blonde hair blowing in the breeze, my blue eyes twinkling in the sunlight, and my Roots backpack flashing all my onlookers with a Canadian flag... Just somebody speak English to me! Speak English AT me! I don't care. I just want somebody to understand me! PLEASE!

On other days, I'm very impressed with myself in terms of how much I can understand, or how my limited knowledge of Mandarin can manage to get me by. I feel that when I'm forced to exercise my Mandarin, I find myself digging deep for some phrases I may have heard during my childhood. My mother used to speak some simple Mandarin to me when I was a kid (thanks for doing that, mom!), and I was exposed to some Mandarin television growing up (thanks to my T.V. addict dad - it's a good thing dad, I promise!). Until a few days ago, I didn't realize how hard it was to just order a sub from Subway (yes, they have those here!). I had to tap into my Chinese comprehension skills all the way back from Chinese Saturday school days (that I'm very thankful my parents forced me through) in order to tell the Beijing subway sandwich artist that I wanted "Turkey." Good thing I've ordered at Subway enough times to recognize that they were asking me if I wanted my sandwich toasted. And luckily I was able to just point to my choice of bread, toppings, and sauces.

It's true that I know some Mandarin, but sometimes it's just not enough to get me by. Sure I'm fluent in Cantonese, and there are some phrases that sound similar in Mandarin, but often times the two can sound very different. I learned from Jason's Chinese exhange partner, Darren, that the Chinese refer to Western languages as "bird language" for its unfamiliar sounds. But being here in Beijing, Mandarin sometimes sounds like a "bird language" to me.

There's a common saying in Cantonese that roughly translates to "chicken speaking with duck." I feel like that phrase perfectly describes my situation here. Though the locals and I may look alike, we speak different languages - which can lead to both hilarious and frustrating misunderstandings. But who is the chicken and who is the duck? You decide.

Note: The picture was taken when I was packing for my "Great Adventure." I bought head lamps (from Dollarama!) for both Jason and I to use during our trip. Jason thought the picture was symbolic of my self-exploration through China...