freak of the week, forever and ever

Sitting here at 4 am in my top floor digs, wondering how I can say what I want to say in a friendly, harmonious way. As an American, it’s difficult to be tactful and considerate. Generally speaking. Cultural norms dictate that Americans blaze their own trail and make their own way. Offend or even insult–no matter–winning is everything.
The novelty of living overseas has worn off. Maybe more specifically, the novelty of living in this country has completely worn off. Being in these special interest, independent English training projects means I must work within a modest budget. (Part of the reason I’m probably so welcome as a coworker and team member is because I’m affordable.) No corporate-cocoon lifestyle here. Modest budgets mean public transport, not personal cars. I travel the subway and walk as much as possible. Being exposed to the people in this way has its pros and cons. The pros are obvious, especially for language learners like myself, and I’ve written about them. The cons are toxic: Staring. Watching. Whispering. Pointing and laughing–like I would do at animals in a zoo. Looking at my mobile phone as I text, reading the book I’m reading, or checking out my grocery bag. I can understand it. The curiosity is human nature, albeit somewhat invasive to Americans. I’m cool with it because I’m a guest in this country. The stares, pointing, laughing, whispering and watching have the most isolating, unwelcoming affect. And it’s not rare and unusual. Again, traveling public transport daily and multiple times a day means that daily and multiple times a day I’m exposed to people who apparently have never seen anything that looks like me.
It doesn’t help that I can usually understand what people are saying about me, which adds to the frustration. Apparently, foreign objects like me don’t have the capacity to speak or understand (Mandarin) so it’s perfectly acceptable to talk about it as your standing next to it. Speak loud enough for it to hear you. No problem; It’s ignorant.
I’ve been given the best anecdotes by a variety of foreign and domestic friends. Say hello. Smile. Start talking. Don’t worry about it. Read a book. Listen to music. I’ve heard and tried it all, and I would support any one of these anecdotes if I only had the energy and time to practice them without rest. For example, it’s easy to suppose a conversation or friendly smile is enough to attempt some kind of human to human recognition, but that’s assuming a kind of scarcity of this opportunity. What I’m talking about happens multiple times a day, so this means having endless, non-stop patient energy. No downtime ever. Can’t be distracted or thinking of something else. Can’t have a private life or mind your own business. Must be focused on how to introduce your foreign self to hundreds of strangers at all times of the day, every day.
Not to mention, my friendly conversation or tireless smile has sometimes scared the hell outta these shy people. When I tried walking around with a goofy smile on my face all day long, I would agree that I deserved the nervous criticisms because walking around with a goofy smile on your face all day is not natural, even for foreign objects that are freakish by nature.
My Chinese friends are defensive of anything Chinese so they’ll tell me it’s because I’m so handsome that people stare at me. Harmonious to the death.
I’ve seen the foreigners that know what I’m talking about here. I’ve seen those poor saps wearing a hat, black sunglasses and an MP3 player. Complete shut-down. Complete avoidance of any external stimulus. Cut off. Drop out. Leave me alone for sanity’s sake. Isolation. Every time I see someone blacked out like this I am sure that I don’t want to do something so dramatic and drastic. But my options? ??
Leave. I can’t say there’s any remedy because what I feel is a lack of integration into the group. That’s a fundamental social need for our kind of animal. Our species is a social animal. Humans need interaction with other humans as part of a social group. Sweet integration. I have human limits on how long I can pretend that being on the outside 24/7 makes me satisfied or even comfortable. That’s neither good nor bad, just the way it is. I’m human, and I simply miss being thought of in that way.