Making New Friends

I am working my "weird foreign girl" status to make friends with the old people and other strange characters I meet on the street. There's something about speaking a foreign language that allows me to lose my inhibitions and strike up conversations with strangers. I love that I can get away with asking people questions about themselves that might seen forward if I was a native Chinese. Then of course, Chinese people ask me my salary all the time, so some questions are fair game over here.

Today I ran into two types that I've been meaning to make friends with. Both of them hang out near the walking bridge that connects my neighborhood to campus.

譚太太(Mrs. Tan） stands out the foot of the bridge around lunch time to sell plants that she grows herself, probably in her son's apartment. She must be at least 70, although the older generation of Chinese look more aged than they really are (not surprising given what they've been through.) Her face is a mess of wrinkles and she's missing a front tooth, but her stance is resolute. She is weathered, but not frail. So far I've bought an aloe vera, a cactus, and an unidentified sturdy-leafed specimen from her. She sets her price and it's hard to get her to come down at all, which is fine, since it's not as if I've been shelling out big bucks ($1 for 3 plants -- not bad). "Give the kuai you save to the old lady," she once said, referring to herself with an astute smile. Upon finding out that we live in the same apartment district, Mrs. Tan immediately asked me how much my rent is and how big my place is. These days, she recognizes me when I come down off the bridge, so hopefully I will have some stories about her in the future.

单先生 (Mr. Shan) is the bike repairman who I've written about previously. He sets up camp under the bridge across the street from Mrs. Tan and chain-smokes while he works on bikes and waits for customers. He's from Heilongjiang, the northernmost province of China, bordered by Russia and Inner Mongolia (which is part of China). Mr. Shan isn't a big talker, but I managed to find out that he's in Dalian because his 14-year old son is deaf and goes to a special school here. Unfortunately Mr. Shan and his wife can only converse with the most basic of sign language, but at least his son is, hopefully, in good hands. Today I traded in my disaster of a bike (which Eric nicknamed Old Dirty Bastard) for a spiffy (well, a bit rusty) little red one that actually fits me and doesn't squeal unbearably when I brake. Very acceptable for another US $9. More importantly, Mr. Shan agreed to be interviewed at a later time. "Interview? Why?" he laughed. "Okay, fine, come find me when I'm here." Another trip under the bridge will need to occur soon...