“Did you experience any ‘culture shock’ in China?”
As I visited with family and friends this past summer, most of them asked some version of this question. I expected it, and enjoyed finding a variety of ways to answer, even surprising myself at times as I analyzed the previous twelve-months I had spent on the other side of the planet.
My brother, Jon, asked, “What is the biggest difference between China and America?” To which I half-jokingly responded, “Everything.”
The truth is I’m not sure you can get any further from America than to come to China. I’m not speaking in geographical terms. I’m talking about the outright cultural-polarity that exists between the land of my birth and the land in which I currently reside. In many ways, America and China are opposites.
America is young, open, extravagant, fast, fluid and cynical. China is old, guarded, conservative, slow, rigid and idealistic. Of course, these are overgeneralizations, but my point is that China and America are two very different places, with a great distance dividing them.
But there’s one place where all of these differences, this distance, melts away. A place where cultural distinctions seem insignificant; where there is no Jew nor Greek, Slave nor Free, Male nor Female. I’m talking about the bowling alley.
Here’s the funny thing about bowling in China: it is exactly, in every way, just like bowling in America. No kidding. I’m not trying to pull one over on you. Spend ten minutes at the bowling alley here in my city, Zhengzhou, and you might be easily convinced that you were visiting the lanes in Kansas City or Wichita or Minneapolis.
It gets even more bizarre. The folks bowling in your neighborhood are also bowling here in Zhengzhou. Same crowd, just different sides of the Pacific.
Let’s do an experiment. Tonight, drive down to your local bowling alley. If you’re not sure where it is, just look for a Laundromat and a liquor store – the bowling alley will be somewhere nearby. Go inside, rent those gaudy red, white and blue shoes (they look identical in China), choose a lane, pick out a warped, pockmarked, marble-patterned, bright orange ball (its twin is here in China), and then take a look around. I can tell you who you’ll see.
At the far end of the alley, through a haze of cigarette smoke, you’ll see the work buddies. They are loud and laughing, with empty beer bottles scattered about like fallen pins. They cheer for one another and pat shoulders and talk using big, exaggerated hand motions.
Just a few lanes over is a young, dating couple. It is early in their relationship and they are awkward with one another, not yet certain of their roles. The boy is showing off a bit, throwing the ball hard, a demonstration of his strength and athleticism. The girl is trying desperately to make bowling look cute. She takes tiny steps up to the line, releases the ball (pink, of course), and watches as it leisurely rolls down the lane. If a few pins fall, she claps and wiggles. But a gutter ball is even better, giving her the opportunity to pout.
You will also see the father helping his little girl bowl for the first time. They go to the line together, hunch down over the ball, and using both hands, push it out from between their legs. The daughter immediately claps, as if just getting rid of the ball is the entire point of the game. She doesn’t seem to care that the ball lands in the gutter only a few feet out.
You’ll see a married couple enjoying a long overdue night out together. You’ll see teenage boys dumping coins into arcade games. You’ll see the ‘serious bowler’: the guy who brings his own ball and towel and wears a special wrist strap.
These people are all bowling in your neighborhood, but they are also here in mine. I saw each one of them a week ago when a group of my friends decided to go bowling together here in our city.
The bowling alley is the least culturally shocking place I’ve been to in China. The only thing shocking about it is how similar it is to every bowling alley I ever visited in the States.
I love watching people, and it was such a pleasure for me to watch people bowl. That might sound strange. Maybe it is strange. But I found myself enjoying the familiarity of it all. Did you know that, after bowling a strike, it doesn’t matter what country you’re from, the expression on your face will be the same? Pure delight. The same is true about gutter balls. No one likes a gutter ball, no matter what side of the Pacific you were born on.
Since returning from our bowling trip, this has been on my mind. It’s hard not to consider the implications of cultural differences when you’re living in a culture other than your own. But that bowling trip has changed me somehow, and lately, I’ve been noticing more similarities than differences.
It makes me wonder. If the simple fun of bowling can be shared across cultures, what greater joys might we also share with one another? If Chinese and Americans both celebrate bowling a perfect strike, what other victories might we rejoice in together? If a pat on the shoulder brings comfort after a gutter ball, can we find ways to comfort each others’ deeper sorrows?
Our differences can be distracting. Variations in skin color and language and perspective and tradition can cause us to feel distant from our neighbors. The distance is an illusion.
This is important for me to remember as I begin a new year serving Chinese students. It would be wrong for me to minimize the important role their culture has played in shaping them as young people. However, it would be a tragedy for me to remain blind to the common needs and desires that exist within all people, unifying us. After all, we are formed from the same mold, created in the same image.
This is also important for you to remember, wherever you might find yourself. Who is your neighbor? What are they like? Do you have anything in common with them? If you’re not sure, maybe you should take them bowling.
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