The Ministry of Kind Souls

Friendship and romantic love are indeed universals. (Nothing quite like stating the obvious right off the bat.) I’m sitting in the Pacific Hotel lounge, sipping Jameson, puffing away on some robust English tobacco (Shanghai is civilized and allows a nice pipe in pubs, unlike some east coast American cities who fancy themselves “progressive”), and watching hundreds of people pass by on the street below. In the midst of the Chinese New Year celebrations, couples stroll hand-in-hand, many of the women carrying bunches of roses. Yep, it’s Valentine’s Day even in China, and while many scurry to various tea ceremonies (one of the three major festivals for the Chinese New Year), the adoring beau buys roses from a street vendor and gives them to the young woman on his arm. Who knew St. Valentine touched hearts here in Shanghai (thankfully, though, minus the Hallmark advertising blitzkrieg). It’s charming and heartwarming to see such tender affection in the young and the old alike.

We often think that high adventure comes through action. I discovered that sometimes the sweetest of quests comes from inaction. After visiting the Shanghai Urban Planning Center (which is far more impressive a structure outside than what it offers inside), I was feeling rather disappointed and a bit glum. Spending a vast majority of my time essentially alone in my own thoughts, isolated from the mass of humanity swirling around me due to language and culture differences, is quite a challenge. And for other reasons, King PITA was feeling rather lonely on this Valentine’s Day. So, I took my book and my pipe and headed for the People’s Square, found a quite bench by a small pond, lit me pipe, and began to read (for those interested, I’ve started Cancer Ward by Aleksander Solzhenitsyn—quite an interesting book, indeed). Ah, this was nice, just enjoying the moment, reading, and piping as Shanghai lived on around me.

“Hello there! How are you?” I looked up, and there were two smiling, giggling Chinese students. “I’m fine, thank you, how are you?” And suddenly I was out of my isolated thoughts and establishing human connection through broken English. Like myself, these two young women were visiting Shanghai. One was studying English education, and the other had graduated from university with a degree in business. They were on holiday in Shanghai for the New Year. They asked me what I did, and when they found out I am a professor of English, their eyes got big and they shook my hand with great reverence (boy, I can get used to this…). We talked about festivals, sights to see in Shanghai, what I’ve seen thus far, what they have seen, and they gave me some nice recommendations while I warned them not to pay too much for a tea ceremony since they are on a student budget. They wanted to know if I knew of Arnold Schwarzenegger, and we talked about some of his movies. They also described the plots of various American movies they’ve seen, and I tried to guess the titles (one was Big Mama’s House starring Martin Lawrence). I then offered up Jackie Chan and Jet Li, and there were so excited that I knew who these Chinese actors are. “They are, how do you say, world famous,” the one woman noted.

As we were talking, an old woman peeked around a bush, slowly waddled up, sat down next to me on the bench, and joined our conversation. (She got a kick out of my pipe.) The two students had to be going, but the old woman tried to persuade them to stay, since her English was not so good. They politely said their goodbyes and wished me a fun time in Shanghai, and there I was sitting with this delightful old woman who could barely speak English. Through broken phrases, elaborate hand gestures (she was fond of the thumbs up), sighs, and lots of staring as she explained things in Chinese, I learned that she used to be an acupuncturist but is now retired, and in her spare time she is trying to learn English. One of her daughters is married and lives in San Francisco, and her other daughter married an Italian man and lives (I think) in Rome (she made many gestures of praying and making the sign of the Cross, so I assumed she was referring to Rome and the Vatican). She was also making breast stroke swimming motions, so maybe her son-in-law has a nice swimming pool? I don’t know, or she could have been talking about how beautiful the Mediterranean Sea is?... Oh yeah, and this daughter who married the Italian man has a baby, whom this delightful old woman loves very much. Suddenly, an old man all bundled in a coat, hat, and gloves came over. I’m not sure if this was her husband or just an interested bystander. His English was a little better (very little), and they consulted in Chinese and he tried to translate. Again, my being a professor was a big hit. We discussed some of the sights I’ve seen. I pointed to my tour book to show them, and the old man’s eyes must have been bad, because he would thrust his head about one inch from the page and then say, “ah, ah, ah, yes, in Chinese we say….” After a while, they bid me farewell, and off they shuffled.

My heart was becoming full, and I resumed my reading. A couple of pages later and, “Hello!” I looked up and didn’t see anything. “Over hear!” I looked over to my right and there was another young woman smiling. “How are you?” “I’m fine,” I said, “how are you?” Then a young man came over, and two of their friends (another young couple). “You look like a teacher, because you are wearing glasses,” she said. “Yes, I’m a professor of English.” Well, that was just the bomb. (That seems to be the key. Just say you are a professor, and you have fast friends.) The young man lit up, “Hemingway! He’s an American writer.” And he made a gesture of putting a gun to his head. “Yes,” I said, “sadly, he killed himself with a rifle.” “Old Man and the Sea,” the woman announced. “We have read some American literature,” she said with a big smile. They, too, are students visiting Shanghai for the New Year. We talked about the sights we have seen thus far, and they recommended some other places to visit. Bidding each other a fun stay in Shanghai, we said our farewells.

God is indeed gracious. In my moment of quiet isolation and loneliness, I believe He brought kind souls to grant me an afternoon of human connectivity to remind me that He fashioned us to be relational. Despite the barrier of Babel, deep down, people are people and we long to connect. If we are willing, different languages and cultures do not have to be walls that divide but, instead, can be curious obstacles that, in the striving, become bridges that connect, if only for a moment, in a chilly, quiet park in the middle of Shanghai.

[I’ve added some pics to the Web photo album. Click to view. New pics start at “In case you didn’t believe,” which is a short video of the five motorcycles in the cage. Enjoy.]