The Piano Boy

Today in language class, our topic of dating-related vocabulary digressed into a discussion of the differences in Chinese and American courtship.  My classmates and I explained to our Chinese teacher the concept of chivalry in it’s more or less entirety – holding open doors, paying for meals, seating dates: the works.  In China it’s not as standard for the man to pay for the woman at all times.  I imagine this stems from the desire to promote gender equality – as if a trickle down dating system could really take effect.  (In actuality, it probably can in China as their Confucian-inspired academic curriculum cultivates following orders at the price of creativity.)

But while they won’t hold open doors for ladies, or always pay the bill, one thing is beyond prevalent in Chinese society: guys carry purses.

A guy carrying a purse equivocates to his having a girlfriend or wife, and the less manly the purse, the cuter the girl.  Walking on the street, you’ll see men from adolescence to almost old age swinging their pink pouches back and forth with a big grin.  My teacher tells us that this practice originally acted as a preventive against thieves stealing the girl’s purse since the girl is dainty and apparently defenseless.  She then went on to say that the man is expected to hold the purse in whatever way the woman would – therefore if she would have a cute bag hugged to her side on top of her shoulder, so would he; a messenger bag should be as a proud sash draped across his man bosom.

I’m not quite sure when the dating age comes into play but from what we’ve been told, the Chinese stereotypes regarding study, study, study, are apparently accurate.  Kids go to school in some cases for upwards of 12 hours until they graduate high school.  They go back home to study, do homework and in some cases help out with the family business.  I can’t fathom them having time to have hormones.

The only child I have spoken to in China, I met in a coffee shop-style Western restaurant, complete with library.  He was playing the piano when I walked in – a true champion of the instrument and a boy after Beethoven’s own heart.  After he played a few tunes, he made his rounds to each party to introduce himself.  Being three Americans, our couch was of special interest because he could practice his school-mandated English.  At 8 years of age he was far better at piano than I am at anything in life and his comprehension of English is years ahead of my understanding of Mandarin.  (We can tell ourselves that it’s not our fault – children naturally learn language faster than adults but personally that makes me feel about as much better as a pat on the head and a pinch on the cheek.)  As we hammered out our ages in belabored Chinese and explained that we were studying at University.  This was followed by exchanging names, which is a favorite in Chinese-to-American introductions.  This is because anyone Chinese studying English adopts an English name and vice versa to avoid confusion – not unlike in middle school where my Spanish teacher would awkwardly dub each student with a new name like, “Pablo,” or “Margarita,” as if we were at a group knighting ceremony for prepubescents. 

My Chinese name, which I give out sparingly should I find I want to change it, is 节课 pronounced “Jie kuh,” similar to, “Jake.”  Clever, right?  But literally it means “a class,” which is sort of boring.  However in Chinese, the same exact pronunciation can have several different meanings, so it’s possible the pianist thought it was some different, cooler meaning. But I know.  I know it’s lame.  So when he asked our names, we told him, and when he asked for our Chinese names, we told him.  He told us his Chinese name, which was semi-indecipherable.  And then he told us his English name and I can safely say, I now no longer am self-conscious about being called, “a class.”  The little boy, this master of piano at the age of 8’s English name … was “Elephants.” 

Rare are the times when I smile so wide that it hurts, but this was the first time that I had met someone whose name was both an animal and plural.  I began to think of what this Elephants’ life would look like.  He was on his way to becoming fairly bilingual, and a piano rock star.  Before I left, I took one good look at him because I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I saw him.  Elephants was on his way to glory, to riches, to fame; he was going to be on the cover of magazines and you know what?  Even if that falls through, one thing is certain: Elephants will be able to hold any purse he wants.