Friday, April 20, 2007

Ich bin ein Beijinger

Sitting in the stark black and white office of the German operated internet company Jabgo, it is hard not to notice the reality behind the stereotypes that we often use. The office bleeds efficiency. Within the single room, computers block sight lines so that the employees can see nothing but their own work; at the same time, the boss has a large desk from which he can attend to everyone no matter where they are sitting. The only sound is the persistent tapping of keys and the occasional phone ring. It's not an unhappy office, but it serves only one purpose: work.

Compare this German workspace with the chinese setting of Hutong school. There, five of us work in one office. We each have our own desk with plenty of space, and interdesk communication is often enjoyable and encouraged. When I suggested removing a wall to allow the back room (barely more than a closet) to be more included, Jan started trying to arrange it immediately. People at Hutong school frequently leave the office to sit in the sun in the courtyard, walk down the street for a bottle of water, or just to chat. Lunch breaks last from 12:30 to 2, or whenever you feel like returning to work. It is not an inefficient workplace, but it is certainly more relaxed, and definitely more in synch with Beijing life.

I have learned more about cultural stereotypes in Beijing in the last two weeks than I ever knew before. The dutch always seem a bit embarrassed by their nationality; the Germans have no sense of humor; the French are inefficient; and surprisingly, Americans are romantic. Jews are a novelty in China, and in the last 3 days I have explained my religion several times to curious Chinese who were shocked to discover that I was a walking talking Jew.

In Beijing, we are all expats. We all speak English to each other, and we are all united as outsiders in the Chinese world. Perhaps this is the reason that we harp on cultural stereotypes and even embrace them as symbols of who we are. Most of the time, I just think of myself as a foreigner in China, but sometimes its good to be the one who calls fooball "soccer" and impatiently waits for my Big Mac and fries. It's also fun to crush people's stereotypes by having less of an appetite for my Big Mac than my French friends.

The stereotypes are reassuring, and an endless source of amusement--especially when someone discovers that they have always held a false belief about someone else. We will never be chinese here, but we can at least live like the stereotype of Hutong life: relaxing and enjoying life as it comes.