Walking on Eggshells... Difficulties in Learning Chinese Culture

(Note: None of the characters in this story are based on anyone I know, they merely represent generalizations of situations I've encountered on my path of cultural learning in Taiwan.)

Let us say that you have been invited to a party. You recently moved to a new neighborhood, and you're excited about getting to know your neighbors. You receive the fancy invitation and are impressed, it looks like people here really have style, you'll be careful to make the best impression you can.

Arriving at the party, you enter and are surprised at how warmly you are greeted by the hosts and everyone else present; you've never felt so honored as a guest. The decorations are beautiful and different from the ones in your old neighborhood, and the refreshments are unlike anything you have tasted before, but you decide you like them. This will be great, you think. You did stumble a bit as you entered, feeling something underfoot, but you are too busy meeting new people to notice.

Soon after many polite words the host graciously takes his leave to welcome other guests, and you pass into the main room beyond. At this point you stumble again. You definitely stepped on something. Looking down, you see that it was an egg. Yuck! The shell is crushed beneath your nice leather shoe and there's yolk and albumen everywhere. Embarrassed, you look around. Fortunately no one seems to have noticed.

Making your way carefully to a table, you notice there are no napkins. You ask someone where you can find one. "Oh, please, allow me," they say with a smile, and offer you their own handkerchief. "Oh, no," you protest, "I don't want to use your handkerchief to clean this up, I just need a disposable napkin." But they insist, and you can't figure out a polite way to decline. Thanking them profusely, and deciding people around here must be incredibly nice, you look around, wondering why you couldn't see the egg before you stepped on it.

The floor is clean, though, no other eggs to be seen. You try a few snacks and mingle with the other people, who are all interested to talk to the guest and lavish with their compliments. Soon, however, as you are approaching to shake hands with someone, you feel it again. "Crunch." Looking down, you see your shoe is again slimed by a raw egg you've stepped on. You smile apologetically for the unusual incident, but no one else has changed expressions or taken any notice at all. The man shakes hands with you, and everyone continues the lively conversation.

This seems strange. Turning to one new acquaintance, you motion down at the smashed egg. He gives you a very brief confused look, then smiles and invites you to try more snacks before moving on.
Suddenly you notice something strange about the way he is walking. He seems to be choosing his steps very carefully, as if avoiding something. Looking around, you see that everyone is walking in this way. They must be able to see the eggs on the floor! But why didn't they warn you about them?

In your old neighborhood, there were a few eggs on the floor too. Sometimes they were hard to spot, but there was always a little sign warning people of their presence, or at least a mark on the floor. This way even newcomers could know to avoid them. If they would do that here, it would make things so much easier, but it seems like no one has thought to do this. You think about suggesting it, but decide it would be a little too forward to do at your first party here. Maybe next time.

You still have egg on your shoe, and begin looking for napkins. Still none to be found. You don't want to ask anyone for fear they'll offer you their handkerchief again, but eventually you break down and do so. This time, the person is unlike the others, a little less friendly. He offers you his handkerchief, but seems a little reluctant to do so, as if it's an obligation. You try to decline, but he seems to be getting increasingly annoyed, so you give in and accept the handkerchief. He moves on quickly, and you really start hoping you can find some napkins soon.

As you walk away, it happens again. "Squish." Now you're starting to get annoyed too. You beckon to someone you met earlier, and they come over with a friendly smile. "Are there a lot of eggs on the floor here?" You ask. The person seems startled by the direct question. "Oh, it's possible that there may be one or two," they say, "but you shouldn't worry about that. Just enjoy the party!" You point at your shoe. "Do you not see that I have egg all over my shoe?" They shake their head quickly, not looking down. "No no, I'm sure nothing like that would happen." You can't get much more out of them, so you thank them and continue on.

You need to clean your shoe, this egg even got a little on your pant leg. But you are beginning to think there really might not be any napkins at this party, and you didn't know to bring your own handkerchief.

You notice someone's child standing nearby, and she is giggling at your shoe, clearly because of the egg all over it. It seems rude, but mostly you're grateful someone has acknowledged the egg at all. You motion to her, but she is shy and runs away. Before she leaves, though, she points to a spot on the ground nearby and grins.

Walking there carefully, you nudge the place she pointed to with your foot, and sure enough you feel an egg roll away. Why don't they just mark where the eggs are like normal people!? "If only I had someone to walk around with me," you think to yourself, "they could point out all the eggs and I would know where to step."

You see someone who greeted you when you first arrived, and walk quickly over to ask them for help. As you move in that direction, however, your knee suddenly strikes an unseen obstacle. With a strange sound, a whole giant pile of eggs tumbles to the ground, sending puddles of raw egg everywhere. Some of it gets on the other guests, who give you irritated looks. One or two look outright angry. One of the hosts who greeted you rushes over. "Are you enjoying the party?" he asks, looking concerned. "Yes thank you," you say, "but all these eggs... I'm sorry." The host smiles a little painfully. "Oh, no need to apologize at all, just..." -he lowers his voice so only you can hear- "try to watch where you are going, ok?"

He turns to leave. Almost panicking, you grab at his sleeve. Several bystanders wince. He turns, and now his smile looks very artificial, the duty of a gracious host encountering a painful social situation with all the courtesy he can muster, which to his credit is considerable. "I'm sorry," you begin, "I appreciate the invitation so much and I don't want to be rude, so if someone could please just show me where the eggs are on the floor, I could avoid them and everything would be ok. In my old neighborhood we always marked the eggs, but it seems like here I'm the only one who can't see them." He looks confused. "You are new here, of course, and we are so glad you have joined us tonight. But you know, forgive me for saying so, but this is not your old neighborhood, so we will be very pleased if you can understand some of our rules. One is that it's... a little uncomfortable to talk about the eggs. It's better not to talk about them at all. Please just watch where you step very carefully, but really, what is a broken egg or two between friends? We are so glad that you were able to come."

You watch miserably as the other guests begin scooping up the puddles of raw egg in their handkerchiefs, some even using their suit coats and expensive purses. Some manage to force a smile at you in the process, but others whisper and glance furtively in your direction.

Just then you see an attractive young lady who has already given you an appreciative glance or two headed your way. She smiles at you. "What a mess! I see you are new to our neighborhood, yes?" You nod, and she moves in to whisper. "I see you have found out about our eggs." You feel a rush of relief. "Yes, these eggs, I'm so embarrassed, I don't know where to step. There aren't any markers here." She laughs. "Don't worry, I have lived in other neighborhoods before, I know they usually mark where the eggs are. But here is different, you have to learn to know where they are without markers. We can't see all of them either, but if we can't see them we know where they will be." You sigh. "But how long will it take me to figure out how to do that?" She shrugs. "I'm not sure, some of our guests learn quickly, others never do, they have to bring people with them to parties to show them where all the eggs are, and to clean up the messes they make when they miss one. But why do you want to stay here, wasn't your old neighborhood better than this?" You hesitate. "I don't know, this place seems nice too." She rolls her eyes. "It's boring. I liked the other neighborhoods I visited better. But there's no place like home I guess. Anyway, let's talk about the neighborhood you came from, what's it like there?"

You hesitate. "I really need to know about the eggs, can't you help me with those?" She thinks for a moment. "Actually, since I lived in other neighborhoods for a long time, it's hard for me to teach you how to see the eggs. I even step on an egg now and then myself, but I have a handkerchief so it's no problem." You nod enthusiastically. "Yes! I need a handkerchief, at least that way I can clean up my own messes. Where can I buy one?" She smiles apologetically. "I'm sorry but they don't sell them. Your parents give you one when you are a child, and you keep it your whole life."

You sigh. "You mean there's no way to get one?" She grins mysteriously. "There is at least one easy way."
"What's that?" you reply, eager to find at least a partial solution to this mess. "I can let you use mine," she says. "I don't need it all the time, and I can also help tell you where some of the eggs are." You agree enthusiastically, certain that the worst part of the party is behind you. (And her attractive company is not unwelcome either.)

Soon, however, you realize that all is not well. The girl sticks close to you, not seeming to be familiar with the others at the party, and seems more interested in chatting about the place you came from than helping you meet more people at this party. You also get odd looks from some of the other guests that you weren't getting before. Once the host makes eye contact with you and shakes his head slightly, pursing his lips. You don't know exactly how to interpret any of this, and mention it to the girl. She shrugs. "I don't know, I don't really understand half of why they do what they do here." "But wait," you ask, confused, "isn't this your home?" She frowns. "Eh, I never really liked it much. I loved watching TV shows about other neighborhoods when I was a kid, and began visiting them as soon as I could. So there are some things I never bothered to figure out. It's not a big deal, just ignore them."

As she continues talking, you glance at the floor. There is an egg at your feet! You interrupt her excitedly. "I can see an egg! Right there!" She gives you an impatient look. "Yeah great, anyway, what I was saying-" you don't hear the rest, being too excited about this development. Motioning to someone nearby, you point at the egg. They frown at first, confused, then smile happily and nod. "Yes yes, good job, you are learning."

You turn back to the girl, but she doesn't look happy. "You're weird," she says, "I thought you were more like the guys I met in other neighborhoods. They weren't obsessed with egg-spotting, they just liked to have a good time." You are confused. "Isn't it good for me to learn how things work here?" She is digging through her purse for her phone. "Yeah I guess so. Hey I have another friend from different neighborhood who just got here, so I'm going to say hi to them. Maybe I'll introduce you guys later." She holds out her hand, taking back her handkerchief (which you notice is tattered and in poor condition), and waves as she turns and walks away.

You are a little sad to see her go, but at the same time get the inexplicable feeling you might have avoided a bad situation. Looking around, you see that in front of you is a large, open space of floor. One or two eggs are visible to your newly sharpened vision, but you suspect there are many more. You realize that despite her friendliness, the time you spent talking to that girl didn't help you learn how to see the eggs at all.

Suddenly you notice there is something sticking to your hand. Several threads of her handkerchief seem to have come unraveled while you were holding it. Without thinking too much, you thrust them into your pocket and begin the slow task of making your way across the open floor to a table with even more delicious-looking snacks further on.

You tread very carefully, ready to pause at the slightest feeling of something under your foot. Just then a stranger, seeming to have already had too much to drink, stumbles into you, muttering something insulting about stupid guests not even knowing how to walk correctly. You stagger back several steps, crushing three or four eggs in the process. "Why don't you watch where you're going?" you say angrily, trying to help him to his feet. There is an audible gasp from a couple of bystanders, and everyone averts their eyes.

The host is suddenly there, looking serious. He too ignores the drunken man, who trots away unsteadily breaking an egg or two himself, though no one seems to notice, and lays a friendly hand on your shoulder. "We are so glad you were able to visit us," he says, with a smile that is not entirely convincing, "but maybe you are growing tired? We don't want you to feel obligated to stay if you would like to rest." You are sure he is annoyed and wants you to leave, but you are angry too. It's not your fault there are so many eggs but no one wants to talk about them, not your fault someone had too much to drink, not your fault there are no napkins anywhere. This whole complicated situation could be resolved if someone would just clearly mark the eggs or at least set a stack of napkins out somewhere.

Summoning all your patience and courtesy, you thank him, but assure him that you are not tired yet, and would love to try some of the other delicious-looking snacks before you leave. He looks much less annoyed after you say this, and repeats your words for others to hear. "I am so glad you are not tired, and you are welcome to try any refreshments you like, although we apologize that they must look and taste terrible compared to what you are used to." You shake your head. "No no, they really are delicious."

He pats your shoulder again. "Don't be so polite! Here, let me help you, there might be something on your shoe." Your anger is cooling now, and you feel terrible that the host himself is now having to clean the raw egg off your shoes. "Please, let me," you say, trying to take the handkerchief from him, "I am embarrassed for you to do it." He refuses, and you repeat the offer twice. To your surprise, he then immediately relents, seemingly very relieved for not having to do it. "Alright, although I admit that it is we who are embarrassed by our floor having so many eggs in these modern times. No doubt it is very difficult for someone who comes from a high-class neighborhood with no eggs."

You blink. "What, no eggs? That's not true at all, we have eggs on our floors like you. But we mark them so people can avoid them. Well, most of them." It suddenly occurs to you that not every single egg was marked in your old neighborhood either. But those were the obvious ones, right? The host shrugs. "We always thought our guests must have no eggs, otherwise why step on them here? But it's not important, please, enjoy the rest of your time! Forgive me, but I must visit the sink. You know..." He nods at the egg-covered handkerchief. You carefully hand him back his handkerchief, feeling bad that he must now go wash it. As he leaves, you realize several threads from his handkerchief are stuck to your hand, just like before. You put these in your pocket as well, wondering why the handkerchiefs in this neighborhood seem to lose threads so easily.

You manage to make it to the next table without stepping on any more eggs, to your great relief. There are more people around this table than the earlier ones, and the snacks really are incredibly delicious, though even more unusual and unlike anything you had in your old neighborhood. Eating them there, you wonder if you even would have enjoyed them, if you hadn't had the chance to try some of the other snacks here first. You step on a few more eggs, but the guests are always graciously willing to lend you their handkerchiefs. Like the others, their handkerchiefs are always losing threads in your hand, though they are noticeably in good condition and not threadbare at all. You notice there are several different colors and shades, but nearly all of them have strips or patches that match those that other people are carrying. Strangely, the people back near the door have the most colorful ones, but looking ahead, at the innermost table with the craziest looking snacks, nearly solid-colored handkerchiefs are more common.

Looking back towards the door, you see the girl from before, talking to another guest who looks like he's from a couple neighborhoods beyond yours. He has so much egg on his shoes you can't tell what color they originally were. He points at them and they both laugh, and then she steps in close to hug him, getting egg all over her own shoes in the process. Strange, does she not care? And why doesn't she tell him about the handkerchiefs?

Thinking about this, you don't watch your feet, and step on another egg. This time you reflexively reach into your pocket, forgetting you didn't bring any napkins, and feel something small and soft. Pulling it out, you see that all the threads from handkerchiefs you've borrowed that kept sticking to your hand and ended up in your pocket have twisted around each other and started meshing together; it's starting to look like a really ragged version of one of the handkerchiefs the people here carry.

Stooping down, you begin to clean the egg white off your shoe with the loose web of threads. It's messy and the egg gets all over your fingers, but it's something.

Suddenly, you realize that you know what to do. At this rate, learning to spot the eggs is going to take a long time. But in the mean time, you're going to be borrowing a lot of handkerchiefs...