Adventures of an American student in China

Calling my first few weeks in China a "train wreck" doesn't quite capture the experience. Neither would a picture of the Hindenberg colliding with the Titanic. Instead, it was like a baseball player stepping up to the plate only to be struck by a giant meteorite that destroys all of earth — and then getting food poisoning again.

My battles with the Chinese language and E. Coli made my early days at Princeton-in-Beijing harrowing. But, thanks in part to a language pledge to speak only Chinese and in part to the adaptive nature of the human digestive system, my situation slowly improved. In a one-on-one session, a teacher even paid me the following compliment, which may qualify as the most backhanded ever: "The first day you were a very poor speaker of Chinese, but today you are doing better."

On the weekends we visited the best sites that Beijing had to offer. We saw the Great Wall (great!), the Beijing Opera (awful!) and a Chinese acrobactic show (made Cirque du Soleil look like Cirque du So-lame).

We also spent a lot of time at Chinese flea markets, which, unlike their American counterparts, are actually full of fleas. Bartering with the merchants was a great chance to embarrass myself in public with my Chinese and acquire ridiculously cheap, ridiculously low-quality merchandise. I ended up with a lot of junk I didn't need, but you have to understand that the Chinese are very good salesmen, offering impossibly good deals. Did I need every episode of "Star Trek: The Next Generation" on DVD? Probably not, but for five dollars, I had no choice but to make it so!

Over time, the weak-willed American consumers have spoiled Chinese vendors. Once, I walked away from a guy trying to sell me an "antique chess set": He grabbed my shirt and started to cry. It was frightening, but at least I finally understood how all those girls had felt when I had acted the same way after asking them to various high school dances.

I doubt that I would have had the same dating problem in China. Foreigners are relatively rare there, and Americans seemed to be universally loved — a welcome change from anti-American attitudes elsewhere. More than once I was asked by random Chinese girls if I would be in a picture with them, and countless others approached me to ask if I would help them practice their English. Of course, I told them that I wasn't allowed to speak English, at which point they usually told me my Chinese was excellent, and would I be interested in buying an antique chess set?

Though my Chinese was definitely improving, I was still unsure of myself when I stumbled upon an "open mic night" at an outdoor bar and decided to try my luck.

"Hello," I shouted, taking one of the guitars on stage "I'm going to be playing a song for you by the White Stripes. Who likes the White Stripes?"

Dead silence. It was like I had asked if anyone would be interested in joining my Falun Gong meditation group. Clearly, I was going to have to use Chinese to get the crowd going. This was to be my final exam.

"Ni Hao!" I said, which means hello, and the crowd went wild.

Despite the fact that I hadn't touched a guitar in two months, I still managed to rock the socks off about 300 Chinese people. So, I would say the most important lesson that I learned this summer is that I am awesome. Also, though, I learned that it is extremely worthwhile to immerse yourself in a foreign culture, even if the toilets of said culture are just a giant hole in the ground. Being in China gave me an unprecedented chance to learn, and maybe more importantly to serve as a goodwill ambassador for America.

But, for anyone wishing to follow in my footsteps, I must offer the following warning: The greatness of some American customs can be lost in translation. After the last day of classes finished, the teachers and students went dancing together. I will never forget the look on my teachers' faces when I stormed the dance floor and began to practice my craft. What had I done to deserve that look of shock, of horror, of disgust? In America, we call it the robot. Tom Knight is an economics major from San Juan Capistrano, Calif. He can be reached at ttknight@princeton.edu.