Life in the fishbowl

In the world in which we live where streets are sidewalks and sidewalks are streets, where everywhere is a bathroom --or at minimum a trashcan, the respite we should have found last Friday in the sprawling Wuhan Zoo was limitless. After all, there are multiple exotic species of animals which we had never seen before and needed to be photographed. And, in many ways, I would consider the trip a success. Yet, there definitely came a point where I was tired of everyone photographing the exotics.

And by exotics, I mean us.

It is probably far too easy to find myself constantly comparing life in China to my life in the United States. And while I can get overwhelmed by the lack of crackers in the store or fresh air outside, I think with time, maybe even by the time I leave here, those things will not be annoying anymore.

In effort to enjoy this country for what it has to offer, I am going to have to depart from the daily attack on its differences. Was the zoo crazy different? Yep. Do they treat animals contrary to how I think they should? Yep. But you can read about those things elsewhere online. 

Looking as a whole, the Wuhan Zoo is a gorgeous, spacious, botanical heaven in the middle of an industrial city. We got to see kangaroos and camels and pandas and yaks and a ton of familiar animals ridiculously closer than I have ever been to them before. I saw an animal that looked EXACTLY like the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz. Minus the wings. For real.

They have swan pedal boats which I think is super cool and the boys are dying to try. The habitats of several of the animals were very well arranged and quite beautiful. We got to feed a ton of different creatures for less than $1.

But if I am to record true history of our voyage, I am not in a complete comfort zone yet. The photographing and touching and staring, the relentless staring, wears on me. I notice it more when I am too hot or too tired or too hungry. Friday was just like any of the 14 before it: we were watched like monkeys in the cage. My ability to brush off people staring at us through restaurant windows while we eat or gawk at us (instead of the amazing animal right in front of them) while we are at the zoo has been an incredibly difficult aspect of life. As the Queen of Passive Aggressive I unfortunately know I can be, it is one thing for me to body block the kids from their cameras. It is another to bust out my phone camera and start taking pictures of them. You want to photograph me? Awesome. Because. I'm. gonna. photograph. YOU.

I really wish I could speak to our driver, Mr. Song, about this. Not only could he provide maybe some cultural insight into the curiosity that is displayed, but I wonder what he thinks about being on the side of the watched. Because, of course, he was. Carrying around the curly blond or pushing the big blond in the stroller caught him a whole wealth of staring as well. Was it bothersome to him? Or does he just understand something I don't.

Maybe he gets it. I am the exotic here. Yes, it is shocking to this someone from a melting pot like Logansport, Indiana (insert sarcasm) but we are new and different. We are worthy of curious looks and since the staring is never confrontational or aggressive, what is my problem anyway? Maybe I should just start waving like the celebrity movie star (or recently released local felon) they make me feel like I am.

Maybe there are things about this culture that are not what I think they are. And if we can't talk about Jesus here, maybe I at least should act more Christ-like.