My first dinner with locals all I remember (besides the delicious food) is people putting food in my bowl for me. They wanted to make sure I got the best of what there was to try, and when I had finished they made sure to replace what I had eaten. Going out to eat with local friends these days is a similar situation; they handle the ordering, make sure there is plenty of food (usually more than necessary), and let the foreigners simply enjoy the meal. Upon my return, I’ve to adjust my mindset and let go of control when dining with friends to simply appreciate the hospitality. I might not have been able to order exactly what I think I wanted, but I certainly ate some delicious food I never would have tried otherwise.

At restaurants, turntables are common in the middle of the table, which are usually round and preferred because they equalize any sort of status.  What we call the “Lazy Susan” in the West is simply an easier way to share with others as you eat family style. When going out with friends, dishes are shared and either a bowl or individual servings of rice is ordered. It’s best practice to order at least one more dish than the number of people there are eating, and favorite dishes are double ordered. There are always drinks to be shared; orange juice or soda for friends who don’t drink alcohol, and a classic light Chinese beer for the rest, Qingdao being a favorite. A few bottles are ordered for a large group and small cups are filled with your beverage of choice. When it’s time to toast someone or something, we say “gan bei” or colloquially “bottoms up” or “cheers”but literally means “dry cup.” Everything is shared, from food to drinks, it’s rare for someone to order a meal for themselves without the intention to share.

In the office, people were always keen to share their lunch and let you try new things. One former coworker shared her mother’s chicken wings with me one day (the best you’ll ever have), and even shared the recipe, a month long process of salting and marinating usually done for Spring Festival at the start of the new year. Obviously I was more than honored to taste this delicacy let alone receive the recipe, but that is how things are done. “Have a try” is a common phrase in most office environments, with coworkers sharing whatever they have with those around them. Usually refusing isn’t an option and it’s expected to take what you are given. Even students are ready to share their snacks, especially with a favorite teacher. A tiny human handing you a lose chip might not be appetizing but it’s certainly the thought behind it that matters. Fruit is commonly shared and though students may not give their teachers apples in China, I did receive a peach once!

When it’s one’s birthday, it’s a common practice to take friends out for dinner. As opposed to the Western tradition of receiving gifts, it’s a time to share with one’s friends and recognize that their presence is a gift. I had the opportunity to attend a few of these dinners, one of which was in a very fancy hotel restaurant and I attended as a friend of a friend. There were easily 20-30 people at this dinner, all sitting around a large circular table with a huge turntable for passing dishes. I felt out of place not knowing anyone besides my friend and being the only foreigner, but quickly I was made to feel right at home as new friends filled my cup with wine and made sure my bowl was always full. 

This hospitality extends far beyond the table, and though it’s not always apparent to Western eyes, Chinese culture is nothing but welcoming. When I arrived at the airport in Wuhan, using Google translate and struggling to fill out my immigration and health declaration forms, I was assisted without question or an attitude one might get for not knowing the language in the West, and sent on through customs. I was picked up by a representative of the school assigned to help me getting settled with all the necessities of living in a new country. When I arrived at my new apartment, the table was filled with snacks and drinks so I’d have something to eat without going out (though almost immediately I went out for reganmian, or hot dry noodles, a Wuhan specialty). Old friends arranged a welcome party the Sunday after I arrived at Brussels, and I didn’t pay for anything, including the late night snacks on my way to a taxi. My friends went out of their way to make sure I felt welcome and secure, helping me how ever they could as I transitioned to my life here once again.

Most recently, I suggested a trip for the Mid-Autumn Festival at the end of September (the 29th to be exact, a lovely coincidence with it being my birthday– a perfect time to celebrate the new season. Thank you PR China for the welcome holiday!). A local friend who coordinated a hiking trip to Enshi when I lived here last, and well-known for his planning expertise took the suggestion and ran with it. He found the perfect route for a short getaway to see some of nature and some new cityscapes in the Jiangsu Province (stay tuned for a future post about this adventure!). He has taken care of all the coordination and reservations–the rest of us just have to arrive at the airport on time and reimburse him for travel costs. He has also arranged a small gathering with ice cream cake and friends at Brussels before we leave to celebrate my birthday. Though I was gone for nearly eight years, it feels like I never left. We’ve all grown and advanced in our careers. People are married and have kids now, but coming back to this city feel like home and these people feel like family.

Leaving any sort of shop or business, whether it’s the local noodle shop at breakfast or a late night KTV, it’s common to hear the shopkeeper say “men zou” or  “walk slow.” Almost a term of endearment, this phrase has become one of my favorite in the language. It’s a good reminder when you are walking out with a  hot bowl of noodle soup, but it’s also a reminder of the collective care apparent in the culture of China. Some days, it’s easy to feel isolated in a city if 13 million, especially speaking so little of the language. Hearing this phrase as I leave my favorite noodle shop reminds me that I’m not alone here, but that I’m welcome.