“So you’re just planning to feel awkward for a year then?”

I can still recall the exact melt-into-the-ground-cry-with-shame feeling that accidentally tugging the hand of my primary school teacher’s boyfriend provoked, after mistaking him for my dad at some school event or other when I was about six years old. I burned up about that nanosecond of nothing for a good few years afterwards. Nobody likes to look stupid. It’s not something you set out to achieve in the morning, I understand this. However, I am pathetically terrified about it and always have been. I try to avoid situations that could prove awkward. Team-building, anything with audience participation, speaking on the phone to anyone at any time. Moving to another country where I don’t speak the lan- Oh.

I’m aware other - normal - people brush things off. I know I feel stupid at times when other people wouldn’t, mainly because K tells me so. I assume other people get through life by not thinking everyone is incredibly interested in their ridiculousness. However here in Beijing, it seems someone nearly always IS checking out what the foreigner is up to. And if Person A stares at Person B for long enough, sooner or later Person B is going do something that warrants a smirk. It’s probability.


In his wisdom, K pointed out that people will be laughing at us a lot for the foreseeable future because we’re going to make mistakes and pronounce words incorrectly.  I explained that the possibility of getting stuff wrong made me feel awkward, and he replied, “So you’re just planning to feel awkward for however long we’re here then?”

Angrily storming away from an embarrassing situation as a stroppy teenager is nothing unusual, but to be completely honest, as a stroppy adult I am only just keeping a lid on that impulse. I'm trying to relax, I promise I am, and rest assured, dear reader, it is currently under control. But also know I am dying inside all the time.

THINGS I’VE FELT STUPID ABOUT SO FAR

Getting some rice

Our first evening in Beijing we were deposited in a restaurant while our guide sat at another table, understandably wanting some space after 12 hours of sorting us out. We were ready to give it a go, but because the waitress knew we’d arrived together, when we tried to speak she’d run over to our guide’s table and grab him to translate. Embarrassing enough, then K ordered rice. She looked confused, he said the Chinese word he knows to be rice. Turns out we’re in a restaurant in Beijing that does not serve rice. Ahaha, STUPIDLAOWAIPOINTANDLAUGH.

Getting a little bit hit by a car (sorry mum)

Surprisingly, it wasn’t anything to do with the crazy ass Beijing traffic, which we quickly learnt to deal with by looking in all directions at all times and never assuming a green man means it’s safe to cross. It’s never safe to cross. Nope, this was when a car drove up a car park ramp in front of us, we crossed behind, and it reversed suddenly cracking me in the arm. I wasn’t hurt, but I couldn’t actually speak much afterwards because I felt so dumb I thought I might cry.

Getting the door fixed

In black and white, what happened was a man fixed the door intercom, then he left. What happened to me was that I silently panicked about not being able to communicate because no-one else was there, and sat rigid and bolt upright on the sofa with a plastered smile on my face while he worked, every fibre of my being so crunched up that were you to donk me on the head and joint my stressed meat, I would not make for good eating. Then he left.

Getting some beer

There’s stuff that makes no sense, and it makes me feel silly anyway. After a particularly bad day haemorrhaging yet more cash, we stumbled across some kind of beer festival with a booth that was clearly for buying tokens. We tried to buy, she said no and pointed to the bar. Why would we ask her for beer? She’s a woman in a booth after all, not a bartender. So K went up to the bar, ordered two beers, the bartender took the money and went and gave it to the woman in the booth. WHY.

Getting to grips with the aforementioned door

“The cable guy is coming in 40 minutes. Let him in.” So bloody simple isn’t it? The incredibly awful and loud doorbell chimed all around me for two minutes as Chinese voices came through the speaker and I mashed all the keys at once in a blind panic while shouting, “Hello? Ni hao?!” Then it all went quiet and I hopped around the apartment with my hands balled into fists. God, I’m lame.

 

More to come, I'm completely sure.