Everyone’s excited for their Thanksgiving feast of turkey and stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, apple pie and pumpkin pie, and of course, the five pounds of weight gain afterwards. While among Chinese families, it isn’t a holiday we normally value and celebrate, at least not to the level of extravagance of most American families. It is a holiday when companies and schools have a day off, so we use this time to have a family gathering, not to celebrate the essence of Thanksgiving, though just to spend some time together and see each other.

My large family, grandparents and cousins included, came over to my house to have dinner. So this Thanksgiving and like my other Thanksgivings, we had roasted duck instead of turkey. We had bok choy and other Asian vegetables. We had cold-dish jellyfish, sautéed tilapia fish, and cocktail shrimps. What part of this sounds like a Thanksgiving dinner?

This isn’t just our family though. Turkey just isn’t a popular food item among Chinese people. They say, “turkey doesn’t taste good, it tastes bland.” Oh well. At least we won’t have to fight for the last turkey at the supermarket, or the last baked pumpkin pie on the shelf. So we just had ice cream cones for dessert. Watched some TV, talked about each other’s families, and we called it a night.

I’m sure “Thanksgiving” is celebrated differently at other non-American families too.

Happy Thanksgiving!

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“What’s shakin’?”
“Hello! Are you here to buy movie tickets?” I greeted a frequent visitor into the student life office.
“I don’t got no chicken,” said Bob.
“What? I didn’t ask for chickens.”
“Nah, you see, chicken is slang for” – and he rubs his fingers together to represent money –
“Sorry Bob,” I said sarcastically, “we don’t accept chickens here in the office. We accept cash and exact change only.”
“Haha. Even my grandma is catching up on slang.” He turns to my co-worker, who was just as confused as me, “you know what ‘what’s shakin’ ‘ mean?”
“No.” She said.
“What’s up?” I suggested.
“Yeah yeah she’s got it.” Bob said. “See Jenn, you gotta be like Nancy. Me and my bros be talking English but if you listened to us talk, you wouldn’t understand a single thing.” He says jokingly.
“I only know old school slang, slang changes too much I can’t keep up with the jargon,” Jenn rebutted.

I considered this an encounter of cultural clash, because the difference in lingo is one important aspect of different cultures. It shows how diverse even the same language can be. Bob could have spoken to us in that foreign language of English slang, but to us he spoke normal English.

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During my senior year of high school, it became a tradition to go out for dinner to celebrate the birthday of every one in our friend group.  Diverse with our taste buds, we covered a range of Chinese, Thai, Ecuadorian, Korean, and Indian cuisines, having nothing to do with our ethnicities. Each of the aforementioned cuisines cost me about $6 – $20, but after several birthdays and day activities that accompany each birthday, my expenses built up. Though these nights with friends were enjoyable, there’s a limit to how much I’m willing to spend per day out, especially without having a job. I wasn’t the only one, of course. All my college-bound friends have the same thought process. Accustomed to Chinese cuisine, I am used to getting a wide variety of dishes and being too full to eat any more, for the cost of maximum $20 per person after tax and gratuity.

To celebrate the birthday of my Guyanese friend, my Bengali friend suggested an Italian restaurant located near Central Park, reassuring the rest of us that it is family style and the cost wouldn’t be more than $20. Seating thirteen people around a table, we ordered about 6 family style dishes and passed them around clockwise one by one. Looking around, seeing that there were twelve more mouths to feed after me, I took my fraction of each dish: a piece of fried calamari, some spaghetti, a meatball, a fried zucchini, and maybe some more pastas, but not much, hoping that the dish would come back around with some extras later. Unfortunately, by the time each dish reached around the eighth person, they were almost cleared and the interesting meats were already all taken. It was clear no one was completely full even after licking each plate clean; we ordered some desserts – a birthday cake – to sing the traditional Happy Birthday song with.

A few appetizers, six family style dishes, and a dessert for the birthday boy split between twelve people. “No big deal,” I thought.

Dropped jaws and wide eyes spread as the receipt came to the people sitting closest to the waiter. “Well how much is it?” echoed across the table.

After intense mathematical analysis, long division, and triple checking, the table’s smartest math guy concluded $40 per person without the birthday guy pitching in.

Our wallets were already flattened at the movies earlier that day, and now this dinner completely emptied them.

This was my first Italian cuisine, and now I thought, this is going to be my last. Never do I want to pay so much for not being full again. Maybe for my birthday – when I won’t need to pay. Just kidding. I’ll just stick to Chinese cuisines.

Photography is a method of viewing objects and other common things we see in a new perspective. That’s the challenge for a photographer, says Alexander Rodchenko. He discusses in his article the cliché in photography and how he takes the modern path less traveled on. He explains the history, the past path, of photography and paintings, how most objects and subjects are viewed from the eye level or the belly button level. Many artists have potentially tried to portray their subjects in a different angle; the objects would be on top of each other but each object was still drawn in its front profile. A camera doesn’t change the perspective; the photographer can manipulate that. Why not challenge the mind and take photographs in a different viewpoint to make things appear more interesting? I think he made a valid point in his article. I enjoy taking photographs in my free time and often times I find myself trying to capture a view that no one would normally see that object in, because it looks more fascinating, new to our eyes. In complete contrast to Alexander Rodchenko, Larry Sultan describes that his drive to photograph is to capture the most familiar – the family. It also makes sense that one would want to photograph for keepsake purposes, and to glorify the loved ones.

Berenice Abbott argues in her article that the purpose of photography is “to recreate the living world of our time,” because photography captures “realism – real life – the now.” She reasons that a photograph is only powerful if the purpose behind taking that picture is meaningful. For this I also agree, because with a camera always readily available, I am able to capture the moment when things happen for a reason to have it as a memorabilia.

Ken Light shares that photojournalism, the documenting of important events through the medium of photography, can be powerful and hold a voice of the photographer, a “witness” of the world. Since photographs are physical documents, they provide a glimpse of the past to future generations. His interview with Susan Meiselas showed how important it was to document things, to share with the world what another person’s world is like.

Photography Terms

Latent Image – The invisible image left by the action of light on photographic film or paper. When processed, this latent image will become a visible image either in reversed tones (as in a negative) or in positive tones (as in a color slide).

Polarizing Screen (Filter) – A filter that transmits light traveling in one plane while absorbing light traveling in other planes. When placed on a camera lens or on light sources, it can eliminate undesirable reflections from a subject such as water, glass, or other objects with shiny surfaces.

Program Exposure – An exposure mode on an automatic or autofocus camera that automatically sets both the aperture and the shutter speed for proper exposure.

Overexposure – A condition in which too much light reaches the film, producing a dense negative or a very light print.

Vignetting – A fall-off in brightness at the edges of an image.

Annie and I coincidentally spotted each other the day the Korean Student Associations’ first general interest meeting poster was tacked in the sea of other flyers. Caught up with the student media trends, their flyer showcased the signature dance move of Psy, made famous by his recent song and music video, Gangnam Style. Although printed in black and white, Psy’s silhouette stood out of the motley chaos of student textbook advertisements and club meetings flyers. Note that the flyer had said somewhere along the lines of “Everyone is invited to come – does not have to speak Korean.” It immediately sparked our interests. As big fans of the current Korean media, the both of us flew over and asked one another in unison whether or not the other could accompany in attending this meeting. It was a mess of murmurs to any stranger passing by, but we understood each other perfectly.

“Welcome to Korean Students Association. Nae ileum-eun gim syalon ibnida. Wa jusyeoseo gamsahabnida….” The lady in front of the room thanked us for coming and shared with us her Korean name.

At first it all sounded like English to me, because I have been so used to hearing Korean from watching Korean dramas (with subtitles). I was able to catch a few words here and there, but nothing made sense to me.

I looked and Annie. Annie looked at me.

I whispered to her, “don’t you wish a line of subtitles were playing across the room?” She replied, “Exactly what I was thinking!! I hope we aren’t the only ones who don’t understand.”

We looked around; everyone there looked Korean, and of course understanding every word, they smiled and nodded. Two seats down sat an African American young man. We smiled, thinking, “good, we’re not the only ones.”

Sure enough, after all the members of the E-Board introduced themselves in completely Korean, they asked us each to stand up to introduce ourselves. We only knew that was what they had asked of us when they pointed at a gentleman in one corner, and asked him to stand up and he said his name. Phew, only name. I can do that. These elementary lines are often used in Korean dramas.

“Annyeonghaseyo, je ileum-eun Nancy ibnida,” which means “Hi, my name is Nancy.” – I quickly recited in my head.

The president then announced in English as well, “When you introduce yourselves, please tell us your name, your age, your major, and hobbies! Thank you!” And the gentleman continued in Korean.

Annie and I exchanged surprised looks. “You want to just run for it? The door is right there.”

Too scared to rudely interrupt the meeting, and still interested in what the club had to offer, we watched the dominos fall onto us as it was up to our turn to speak. She spoke first, blushing, she says, “annyeonghaseyo, je ileum-eun Annie ibnida. I am Chinese, so I’ll speak in English. My hobby is listening to Korean music and watching Korean dramas, therefore this club interested me.” She sits down.

It was my turn now. All the eyes were on me. I was glad I wasn’t the first between us to speak, but I was still extremely nervous. I stood up.
“Hi, my name is Nancy.”
I paused. “Ugh, why didn’t I say that in Korean? I haven’t been listening to the others’ introductions so I can recite it in my head.” I thought to myself.

I continued the rest in English, similarly to Annie, explaining myself that I am Chinese and I also have interest in Korean culture. I felt my face reddening with every “uhm” I said.

Two other people presented themselves in Korean, and it was up to the African American’s turn. To our surprise, and everyone’s surprise, he spoke in fluent Korean – no uhms, no blushing, no nail biting, no signs of nervousness. Our jaws dropped in awe, and everyone applauded.

It was amazing how he subtly shocked everyone. With the diversity in our age and place of New York City, one just really can’t judge a book by its cover.

After all the introductions, the vice president came over to warmly welcome us in English, expressing that he was glad we still decided to sit through it respectfully and invited us to attend their upcoming party KSA was hosting. Embarrassed, we smiled, and thanked him for his offer.

Club Hours was over soon enough; it was time for class, and our humiliation was over. We exited the room to re-enter into a realm of English speaking students with English side conversations that we could perfectly understand if we wanted to eavesdrop. But of course, that’s none of our business. We were just simply glad and sighed a breath of relief. Life was back to normal.

Psy’s infamous Gangnam Style
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Stereotypes in America accuse Asians of being horrible drivers, and I just think that Asian immigrant drivers are not used to the rules and driving etiquettes here in America. I actually think otherwise; that Americans’ driving skills are not at the Chinese level: the Chinese can maneuver through the busiest traffic given that their population is extremely large and perfect parallel parking.

I have been in China so many times before, but never have I ever realized or noticed how much their driving methods differ from ours. Firstly, there is no such thing as a One Way Street like we have in America. No matter how narrow the road is, cars are allowed to enter from either side of the street. I was surprised when I learned that first hand — when I sat in a car facing another car driving in my direction on a road I thought was too narrow to fit two cars side by side. To resolve the situation, I learned from multiple experiences, whichever car entered the street last, has to back up and allow the first car to pass, or the two cars, so professionally done, manage to pass each other side-by-side without scraping each other’s doors.

Secondly, it is normal to park with cars face to face. Refer to the image below:

I took that picture from the door of the hotel I was staying at. I spent a few minutes staring at those cars every time I exited and entered the hotel. It was supposedly a common method, because on this particular street, it was only allowed to park on one side of the street due to how narrow the street was. So it made sense. Kind of. In a way. In America, I usually take a quick glance for the direction the parked cars face, and I immediately know from which way the cars will be coming from when I cross the street. It definitely took me my entire stay in that city to get used to the fact that it was okay to park in whichever way possible. This encounter only left me more impressed of the Chinese’ skill in driving and parking.

Quick Relevant Fact: In some Chinese cities, to be more environmentally friendly by avoiding too much CO2 emissions and to eliminate frequent traffic jams, the government issued laws that cars with license plates that begin with an odd number can only drive on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Similarly, license plates that begin with an even number can only drive on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Sundays. This encourages civilians to take public transportation or bike to work or school.  – I think this idea is simply ingenious.

“Wo bist du?” I couldn’t help but overhear a German lady ask for her friend’s location over the phone.
“Roosevelt? Wo ist Roosevelt Avenue?”
Pause –
“Roosevelt Avenue und neunzig Straße?”
Pause –
Her face appeared so lost, looking left and right and in every direction possible.

I was in Jackson Heights, home to majority Hispanic, Indian, and a bit of Korean culture. Jackson Heights is the last place I’d expect to hear German.

Although I had learned German in my first three years of high school, I only remembered fragments. I felt hesitant.

“Uhh … “ I approached her.

“Entschuldigung? Excuse me? Sind Sie versuchen, für Roosevelt Avenue und neunzig Straße finden? I asked, hoping I got all the verb conjugations right and the proper etiquette for speaking to a stranger.

“Ja! Wissen Sie?” She said in excitement.

“Ja. Uhm. It’s 2 blocks down this street and left another. So Sie gehen zwei Straßen und dann gehen Sie nach links.” I tried, translating my own English. In my head, I was more concerned over my grammatical syntax than the idea that I was trying to help a stranger with directions. It was like a mini pop quiz in my head, and my heart started to pound. I felt embarrassed to butcher the beautiful language in front of a native speaker. I never really spoke German outside of the classroom other than playing around with my friends. At the same time, I felt knowledgeable and helpful.

“Danke schon!” she thanked me with a puff of air in relief to finally know where to go.

“Bitte,” I smiled, and huffed a breath of air to realize the “quiz” was over, and I succeeded.

“Ein süßes chinesisches Mädchen hat mir geholfen,” I hear her telling her friend as she crossed the street in a hurry.

“A sweet Chinese girl helped me,” she had said. That cultural encounter made my day.

Today, as my family and I went out for a Labor Day outing at the beach, we bumped into my uncle’s coworker and her family. My cousin and I were too busy fishing by the shore to notice the company back at our base. My uncle yells out to us in Cantonese (our native language), “Hey, you two! Come greet Auntie and Uncle!” It was my first time meeting this family. A little white girl popped out from behind her Chinese mother. I turned around to see the father, a tall and slim Russian man. The little girl seemed shy, so I went over to introduce myself. “Hi, my name is Nancy. What’s your name?” I asked in English. “Wo jang pu tong hua,” she says, meaning, ‘I speak Mandarin’. To my surprise, her Mandarin was so clear; rather, it was much better than my self-taught (and not so fluent) Mandarin.

Here’s a little background on Chinese dialects: the national spoken language is Mandarin. Different dialects are not to be used in school and are usually spoken at home with the family and the community. Cantonese is the second most used spoken language in China, and the two dialects are very different.

The reason it was very surprising to me was that the little girl’s pale skin made me assume that English would be the language she preferred to speak in addition to it probably being the language she spoke at home and school, and even if it were to be Chinese, it would not be so clear, based on my experience of teaching Chinese to my American friends.

We had a language barrier, but it wasn’t so much that we could not communicate at all. I spoke in English, and she spoke in Mandarin. We both understood each other perfectly fine. And I learned that her name was Dasha, and she’s seven years old.