This was the ski I demoed today -- a bit heavy, lots of metal in the construction, but a beast through the heavy wetness. |
Today I went for a ski and shared a chairlift with three
Chinese people. I could tell they were Chinese because they were speaking
Mandarin, a language I’m familiar with.
I first asked in English how they enjoyed the day, thinking
they might be Americans who were speaking Mandarin for reasons of their own. I quickly
understood that they were not comfortable in English. This was my green light
to yammer away in bad Mandarin.
I learned they were ski racers from the north of China,
doing a training camp on Mt. Hood for a few weeks.
I asked the questions, usually getting short answers. The
weather was really terrible, with sleet pelting us, so I could understand if
nobody was in a chatty mood. Our faces were covered as well, bringing another layer
of remoteness to the chit-chat.
This really intrigued me. When I lived on Taiwan, the word
for non-Chinese person was person-from-foreign country. 外國人 . This would have made
no sense on the chairlift, as I might have been an American in America.
I
suspect the guy wanted to know if I was an American-born Chinese person, for
why else did I know a few words in Mandarin.
I answered that I was a local, briefly worried I was saying
I was a native American. Identity is such tricky business.
Later in the day I heard a lift operator greeting the
Chinese racers with hello in Mandarin – happy other “locals” were getting into
the swing of things.
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