To say that Shanghai or Tokyo act as accurate representations of China or Japan would be a gross misunderstanding - discounting the vast diversity in ways of life throughout all aspects of each country. This point was something that was made very clear to our class both before and during Interim. Through keeping it in mind, we as a class, and as individuals, were made to be aware of, and thus come to better understand, our developing perspectives of China and Japan. By taking this mindset and applying it throughout our travels, I attempted to understand my personal experiences and perspectives in relation to those expressed by my classmates and greater society as a whole. Through this, I came to the conclusion that “understanding” is determined through individual experiences outlined by the environment in which one is surrounded. By manipulating one’s place in that environment, the individual is able to shape their experience and garner the knowledge necessary to have an informed, fruitful adventure.

          Before going abroad, possibly the most pervasive comment I heard was some variation of, “Oh my gosh. The food is going to be amazing. You’ll never want to come back”. While I agree with this sentiment – the food was amazing, I miss it already – I knew before leaving that eating entailed an additional factor that I was not as excited for – ordering. A seemingly simple almost everyday occurrence, the act of ordering food is often done without thought in one’s native environment. However, when transplanted into foreign territory – a different country, an unfamiliar language – this effortless task suddenly becomes a multi-step feat, with obstacles and pitfalls every which way. Whether it was in the student cafeteria or at a little Boba shop on the side of the road, figuring out what was offered, deciding what I wanted, trying to convey my order, and picking up my food or drink was always a process. Regardless of what I ordered or how long I spent preparing to order, I always encountered at least one snafu – a mispronounced word here, a character I couldn’t read there, and questions I couldn’t understand everywhere. By far, my favorite example of this took place on our last full day in Shanghai.

          Having spent nearly three weeks honing my ordering technique, I was confident that lunch at the student cafeteria would lend itself to the achievement I had been striving for the entire trip – a seamless ordering experience. After strutting about and surveying my options, I came across Jack and Amos finishing up what looked to be delicious meals. Intrigued by Amos’s selection, I inquired as to what he was eating and decided I too would consume Beef Fried Rice Noodles. With this decision, not only did I tackle the first two steps of ordering (figuring out what was offered and deciding what I wanted), I was well on my way in completing the third (conveying my order), as Amos had kindly walked me through just what to say. With a slight spring in my step, I approached the counter and engaged the cashier.

• 你好，请来一份牛肉炒米粉

• 还要别的吗？

• 不

As the last word left my mouth and I lifted my student ID from the scanner, I couldn’t help a smug little smile from creeping across my face. With a flick of the hair I turned to wait for my food, making sure to let the surrounding Chinese students, all of whom were absorbed in their phones, that Yes, I did just order in Chinese, and No, I did not mess up or resort to the grunt and point. However, as time passed and the people I had started waiting with were slowly replaced, I began to suspect that perhaps I had celebrated too soon. After the fifth or sixth person that had ordered after me picked up their food, I knew I had made a mistake. It was around that time, about 20 minutes in, that Jade and Atia approached, ready to go about ordering from the place at which I was still waiting. They asked how long I’d been standing there and after telling them, asked if I knew what I was getting. I told them how I’d seen Amos and decided to get the same thing he’d gotten, and then how I’d gone about ordering. Jade inquired as to the pronunciation of 米粉, and suggested I may have accidentally said 米饭 instead, meaning I had ordered rice instead of noodles. I admitted that this was a likely possibility considering the circumstances, but did so slightly begrudgingly. However, at that moment an employee set down a plate piled high with noodles, clearly called out 牛肉炒米粉, and gave me an amused look. Happy to have my food, I went and grabbed a pair of chopsticks. Yet, I couldn’t shake the nagging sensation that I had messed up, I just wasn’t sure how.

          It wasn’t until sitting down that I was struck with something I've come to call, “humbling enlightenment”. While I had been waiting, I repeatedly noticed a dish come out that looked to be what I had ordered. However, when I started for it the first couple times, someone else would be at the counter picking it up and walking away. Assuming they knew what was going on better than I did, I concluded that that specific dish must not be the one I had ordered. However, sitting at a table and looking down at my plate, I was struck with a clarifying realization. Multiple people must have ordered the same dish as me, both before and after I ordered. When an employee brought out a dish they called its name, not the order number. As such, the dishes I thought were mine originally actually had been 牛肉炒米粉, they just belonged to people who had ordered before me. By the time my order did come out though, people after me had ordered the same thing and I was under the impression my dish was not mine. Thus, for over twenty minutes I unknowingly let multiple people take my food. It wasn’t until all other orders for 牛肉炒米粉 had been exhausted and I was the only one left that I received what I had ordered. Upon realizing what happened, I couldn’t help but have a good laugh at myself. The time when I felt the most confident in my ordering was the time during which I made the biggest mistake.

            While this story offers a comical narrative, it also acts as a perfect example of the individuality of experiences and perspectives. I went in with the expectation that my three weeks of prior ordering practice and experience from a classmate would leave me fully prepared for the trial of ordering. While I was successful in some areas, my overall failure is indicative of the individual experience I went through – one that has since shaped my understanding of ordering food in general, not just in China. It is these types of experiences that truly allow for a more thorough understanding of one’s environment. While reading books and watching movies are important, as they impart knowledge, they lack the impact of personal experience. Tourist attractions are similarly important, as they offer focused knowledge that usually pertains to the site and greater culture in general. Yet, they often possess an idealized or artificial representation of what that culture is truly like. Thus, it is in mundane day to day activities that true understanding comes about. By keeping an open mind while going through these tasks, and recognizing the many different ways of doing things, we as individuals are able to recognize our lack of understanding and place ourselves in a position ready to learn, regardless of what transpires in our surrounding environment.