Marco Polo complex

Westerners all suffer from the Marco Polo complex. China looms large in our imaginations, at least for the first few trips or years. For a while we are psychologically related to that intrepid Venetian tourist: off to the fabled Orient, alone, just ourselves against the Chinese.

It can honestly feel that way, sometimes because it is: you can be quite alone, surrounded by black hair. Back in the mid 80s I was on a boat (think slave ship, with rows of tatami bunks) for three days, just 300 Chinese and me (and no working toilet: another story). Train trips and walks through night markets, you were alone and you were surrounded.

Sadly, this is less possible now. Western "Big Noses" litter Chinese Asia. We are now less special. We are, though, still a very tiny minority, even in neighbourhoods known to hold many Westerners. Yet there is still one place where we are still frequently alone. The place? Walking on the sidewalk.

On any highway in the West two truckers travelling in opposite directions acknowledge each other as they pass, a small wave, maybe a horn toot. The same is true for motorcyclists and maybe for silver BMW convertible drivers. (When I own one I'll let you know, but for now I can say that it doesn't happen between silver minivan drivers). Two unique entities acknowledging each other's existence amid the ho and hum of everyone else.

So, wouldn't you expect two Westerners walking in opposite directions on the sidewalk to acknowledge each other while passing, a small nod, wink or wave? I used to expect it, can recall when Chinese streets were exotic and seeing another Westerner was, well, almost a happening. But nope, almost never was my glance, nod or grunt acknowledged, or seemingly even noticed. It used to bother me. Why?

I came to blame Marco Polo. Every Westerner secretly (or not so) walks in the footsteps or M. Polo, just him/her versus the vast Cathay sea. Even though this obviously is not true, for a moment walking down the street you are alone and all in sight are the others, romantic, exotic, different. That is of course as long as you don't acknowledge that pesky Westerner walking towards you: waving or nodding at him/her breaks the spell and cheapens your experience. Act like you see nothing and a small part of you is still in the 12th century, an intrepid explorer a long way from home.

Adding the inevitable Asian irony is that this only happens where Westerners are plentiful. Go to a place (if any still exist: sigh) where Westerners are measured in single digits per square mile (or per hundred thousand people) and each is happy to meet and greet another Westerner. When we are truly alone in Chinese Asia, actually living the Marco existence, we are more than happy to acknowledge other Westerners; only when we are not actually alone, when it is safe and we are common, do we act like we are alone, walking in Venetian shoes.

What does this all mean? Who knows? Maybe nothing more than an observation about how we are affected in Chinese Asia by what we bring with us as much as the things we encounter there.