As Stubborn as

A couple weeks ago now (sorry for the delay), I went to the second high-table dinner for Lee Hysan Hall. I didn’t really talk about the first one in a published post because, well, I didn’t have very savory opinion of it. But as a (re)cap, high-table dinners are when the entire hall (of a few hundred students) gather at Bay View Canteen downstairs (which is mediocre at best), dressed in suits and classy dresses, for what is supposed to be a classy occasion. And so sum up my thoughts on the first one—it’s not.

I figured that, okay, it wouldn’t be bad to go to the second one. They are only once a month, and with only three total, maybe it would be better to just attend and get it over with, because, you never know, right? There might be something you might miss and end up regretting not going. I’ve since this second high-table dinner retracted these feelings in their entirety.

It’s not like we’ve got much choice in attending though. Those students with legitimate reasons for being absent may report it to the building warden (who’s a teaching professor) and be excused. Those who miss without approval to do so must write a letter in an attempt to excuse themselves for their absence. Those who are chronically absent from these high-table dinners risk getting expulsion from the hall.

Some of my friends got excused ahead of time; some just skipped. I don’t think they wrote a letter of apology to anyone though, nor do I believe they were asked to, because as exchange students, we are definitely given a lot of leeway in mistakes and such. I’m guessing that if they miss the next one in the same fashion though, they may be asked to write a letter.

The routine of the event itself was the same as last time. Meet at a certain time (6:00 p.m.) at the common room but don't quite assemble until way later (6:51), at which point the elevators (two clunkers for the sixteen-story building) are completely full and you don’t get down there until 7:25 p.m., just in time to sit down for the dinner to begin at 7:30 p.m. (though neither time did it start until after 7:45).

So this time, the couple people I knew on the floor and I headed down independently of the floor. Each floor was assigned a few round tables, and each round table had specific students assigned to it. Wanting to sit with some of my friends, I ignored the table assignments with the full intention of moving if someone asked me to.

No one asked me to. This time around, actually, the table that I sat at was quite empty. This, I found out, was because much like myself, the local students all wanted to sit with (all) of each other at a few tables. They kicked out other students who weren’t their friends from their tables to make room. As such, the table I sat at became the table of rejected exchange students. This group included, among others, one floormate who relayed me her relations with the locals—and though her relationship with them didn’t get her a seat at the “friends” table, I still admire how she was able to reach out to them in a way that I failed.

I guess I should start by describing my relationship with them again. I know that I constantly keep referring to them as a group, but please know that I understand that they are individuals and that a few I’m quite friendly with.

I moved in my first day and I went up and down the halls to try to help me figure out the electrical sockets. The solution came in as simply as I’m not used to have power-cut switches out the outlets themselves (though now I think that it’s a very smart idea), but to help me come to this, I found a local in the common room who identified himself as Jason. He was friendly and helpful, and though we live on the same (male) side of the same floor, I’ve only seen him a handful of times since.

Also in the first week, I met a guy named 99 as in “nine-nine,” though if I had read his name out loud before proper introductions, I would have pronounced it as “ninety-nine.” He was really nice as well, but I’ve only seen him a few times as well. My neighbors towards the bathroom I say “hi” to every once in a while. It never goes far beyond that because whereas I tried many times to start conversation with them, they’ve never bothered to contribute anything to their conversations with me.

I’ve never been to a floor meeting, the first because I was sick, the second because I was out of town, and the third because I didn’t know. From what I’ve heard though, they’re conducted in Cantonese (though everyone should be able to competently speak English as HKU is an English-language university). So instead of switching to English when someone who doesn’t speak Cantonese attends the meeting, they instead have one student translate for them.

The last one, my exchange floormate was told that the meeting was being adjourned, but after he left, they started talking more about specific hall activities that they didn’t offer to him, just because they assumed his disinterest due to his lack of participation in the previous floor and hall events.

I understand that a big part of my not befriending them has to do something with a language barrier. I don’t speak good Cantonese and many of them are not comfortable in speaking English. The bigger obstruction though is that they treat relationships differently here. In the act of saving face, the way they go about it is to prefer not to make contact with those who they don’t know, and only after do they know someone do they open up. I wasn’t about to deal with that.

This floormate exchange student, though, did. She told me how she wanted to be involved in hall activities. She would knock on the local’s doors and get cold responses time and time again, until one day she flat out asked them why they exclude her.

Since then, they’ve invited her to all the activities. She and the locals socialize outside of the hall events as well. They get along with her so well, that the last time I talked to her, they were pondering over what Chinese name they should bestow upon her.

I admire what she’s done. Maybe I’m too stubborn to do what she did; maybe I just didn’t care to make friends with people who didn’t overtly care to make friends with me. In some ways I’ve failed, and in some ways I perceive it’s not my fault.

Back at UCSD, Eleanor Roosevelt College is the undergraduate residential college with the international focus. As such, International House, where many of the exchange students stay, is on our campus. I participate in their activities as I am encouraged to. I try dearly to make friends with them, and show them the America that I know and love—the California that I know and love.

Maybe what I expected was unreasonable. Maybe how it works here is just different. As much as I’ve gotten used to Hong Kong and made this where I feel at home overseas, this one aspect of friendship is just something I’m not sure I would ever get used to.

It’s okay though. I don’t need a Chinese name—I’ve already got one of those.

Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
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