I believe I'm not alone in saying Chinese words are never easy to the tongue and recall. Despite practicing with my Beijing based half-Chinese cousins Chloe and Yassy everyday since our arrival, it was only nearing the end of our week-long visit that I became comfortable using the most basic of them all: Sie Sie (Thank you), Pu Haw I-Su (Excuse me), Tuo Shao Tien (How much?).
Names are no different. Chloe and Yassy's driver is named Si Kwan; until our last day, I thought it was Si-Quiao! Nobody bothered to correct me. Just my tongue's luck, Chloe and Yassy call their Chinese help not by a tongue-twisting name, but by the general Chinese endearment for house help, an easy two-syllable, Ayi (yaya).
We took the 11-hour train ride from Beijing to Xi'An for a 10-hour visit to the historical place in Beijing's West that's famed for the Terracotta Warriors. Tita Chona's only instruction was to look for Shen Chen Chen at the train station upon arrival. I bet the easy recall of that name helped in placing us in a giddy start-of-the-tour mood.
Shen Chen Chen, at the time of our visit, has just finished university but has been working for a travel agency for almost a year. She studied English because she loved the language and because she knew she wanted to become a tour guide. "I want to do this forever," I remember her saying.
As a neophyte tour guide, she could have been better. But I didn't really mind that her delivery of the fascinating stories of Xi'An seemed scripted or that she sometimes walked too fast and away from our group. She was the first Chinese I met who had enough English in her pocket to engage in an English conversation.
Of course I abused this. I found Xi'An very old and limiting, and as it was soaked in fog on the day of our visit, it looked sad and suicidal. I wanted to know how it treats young people like Shen Chen Chen.
She told me that kids her age go to the spa and the karaoke for fun. ("Do you know karaoke, singing?" she asked me. We created the Karaoke that it is now, sister!).
"Do you know Beyonce?" I asked randomly.
She gave me a quizzical look.
"Michael Jackson?" A second try.
She smiled. "I've seen posters of them."
She did have enough English in her pocket, but apparently, her pocket is small-sized. I did most of the talking. I told her my father has 9 siblings, a revelation that elicited a wide-eyed grin from her. She probably thought I was kidding and waited for me to get serious. By truth, not a chance, sister.
"Have you ever been out of Xi'An, Chen?"
"Yes, I've been to Beijing."
"Do you want to go and live somewhere else?" I asked, wrapped up in my uninformed certainty that of course, all young kids want to be anywhere but home. I was disappointed. Or, shall I say, my question disappointed Chen.
I swear I saw a slight bewilderment in her face. Was I the first person to ever ask her that? "I cannot leave Xi'An," she said w/ a quickly-revived assurance that embarrassed me. "I cannot leave my parents. I'm their only child."
Then it hit me.
"You know, China has a one-child policy," Chen reminded me before I could form the logic in my head.
Oh yeah. A lump of admiration for Chen grew in my throat. How many Chen's are there in China? How many kids are stuck not necessarily out of love for their home but out of honor and respect for their parents? How many Chinese hoard dreams that are bordered by this honor? My only consolation is that Chen made me see this reality without a hint of resentment. Her dreams may be contained, or she may not have dreams, but she is happy. She is already doing something that she is certain she wants to do for the rest of her life.
Me and my big dreams, I don't even know what I want to do for the rest of my life.
***
Naturally, so many questions weighed me down throughout that entire opportunity to know China from a pure, English-speaking Chinese. Chen did not show much or any interest in my Philippines so I had the microphone all to myself.
I took my chance and asked her if Christmas is being observed in Xi'An, or in any place in a country that acknowledges no religion.
Her answer and the clear excitement in it surprised me. She explained that Christmas is a relatively new tradition but one that she and her friends really look forward to and celebrate by exchanging gifts. Still fresh in my mind how most kids I came across in Australia do not know that Jesus is born on Christmas day, I wanted to know if it's the same with the youth in China and dared to ask her.
Chen nodded. "I heard about that."
I remember about the Moon Cake festival, which China celebrated the day before our arrival. I thought Chen would have more to say about this genuine Chinese tradition. By then however, she was on tourist guide mode. We were running out of time and needed to be on the way to the airport for our flight back to Beijing. She inserted in the half-hurry that she was with her family on the night of the festival, but did not have any moon cake.
"I don't like it," she confessed.
"Same here." At least we've got that one in common.
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