essay
Surf’s Up By Ankur Shah
68
I’d learned more about Chinese culture in a single evening’s couchsurfing than in six months attending classes at a Chinese university
Illustration by Liu Xiaochao
Waking up in a bed next to a 24-year-old stranger was in no way how I expected to begin my travels in China. In fact, none of my experiences couchsurfing in the People’s Republic matched my expectations. Couchsurfing and China are words I barely would have associated at one time, but fast-forward a few months and I’m a convert – no, an addict. It’s not all about roughing it on sofas and sharing beds. One yuppie couple I stayed with even hired a maid to look after me indeed, as with most things in China, so-called international principles don’t really apply. What’s more important is the Chinese notion of guanxi. Word of mouth spreads quicker than wildfire, and after contacting my first host, each one thereafter was introduced to me by the last. I stayed with five different hosts in Hangzhou and had five distinctly unique experiences, transforming both my view of China and my philosophy of traveling all without spending a penny on accommodation! China’s hipster hostels present an array of options for those traveling on a budget, and of course for those willing to splash their cash, there are luxurious options in abundance, so why choose couchsurfing? First and foremost: the people. You’re filtering a population of over one billion down to, arguably, some of their most fascinating cultural ambassadors and, what’s more, you get to choose who to hang with. One family I stayed with was headed by a single mother, dating a 22-year-old personal trainer, and the former’s 19-year-old daughter. Few families in conservative China are as atypical. The range of backgrounds, personalities and lifestyles that you can come across while couchsurfing is simply vast. I stayed with Buddhist vegetarians who lived in the heart of the city, and streetside tofu sellers who lived in an outlying hamlet. While both families were technically urban residents, their understandings of their city were entirely different, as were the lists they gave me of Hangzhou’s “must see” locations. What both families did share, however, was a natural curiosity about the world, an open minded and welcoming attitude readily extended to me.
They took time to ferry me around the city, and readily shared their homes, their food, their passions and, most importantly, their ideas, with me, giving this foreigner a chance to explore Chinese culture from within. Every mealtime, while the excellent food was distracting, was an opportunity for cul-
tural immersion. At one mealtime I summed up the courage to ask about the family’s standpoint on the controversial issue of Tibet. This family was made up of extremely open-minded, well-educated and wealthy individuals, and I was, I admit, expecting an affirmation of my own views. Instead, I was challenged from the get-go, an experience which made me question what I had been told by the British media. Less political and more cultural were challenges of etiquette. On another occasion, at the home of my tofu-seller hosts, I was offered one too many cups of rice wine, and unceremoniously passed out at the table at 6 PM. I suppose that was a cultural experience, though my memory of the event remains somewhat fuzzy. Inamongst the gray sprawl of China’s high-rise cities, built on the foundations of long-lost ancient walled towns, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to seek out something genuinely traditional. Rather than in its urban architecture, China’s cultural traditions endure in the homes and around the tables of its citizens, something I learned on my first night as a couchsurfer. On my arrival at one nondescript urban home I was urged by my host’s father, without any real introductions or explanation, to sit for an ink-andwash portrait. After the artist attempted to teach me the fundamentals of Chinese calligraphy, we even played a game of Chinese chess, during which I was treated to a potted history of the game, and then exhorted to master it. My slow progress visibly disappointed them. Following the train-wreck that was my Chinese chess career we, of course, commiserated by drinking some of Hangzhou’s famous Longjing tea, as the host’s mother made a bed for myself and her son on the floor of their home. In the space of a few hours, history, art, entertainment, gastronomy and unbelievable generosity had married with an unconscious disregard for personal space. In short, I’d learned more about Chinese culture in a single evening’s couchsurfing than in six months attending classes at a Chinese university. NEWSCHINA I May 2015