People Mountain People Sea

人山人海 

Ren Shan Ren Hai

People Mountain People Sea

I love this delightful Chinese idiom.

 It is a perfect snapshot of a subway car so packed with human flesh that you can smell the garlic on the brother’s breath inches away. Ren shan ren hai…

Walking through the hallways at lunchtime when 880 kids in red and green sweat suits are running around in pubescent cliques. Ren shan ren hai…

You are so used to biking amidst the zoom zooms and the bikes and taxis and buses, it’s like some sort chaotic web of spokes, wheels, and honks. Ren shan ren hai…

Tian'anmen Square

There are beautiful ripples about ren shan ren hai. If there were no people it would be a lonely dusty orb of a planet. People are the crown of Creation. Without the people in my life and in my city, I’m like macaroni and cheese without the cheese – just a bland limp noodle of a man. God commissions us all to be fishers of men. He commands roll up our sleeves and get messy in the messiest of businesses – the people business.  

There are also ugly ripples from ren shan ren hai. Humans weren’t meant to live in such close proximity.  Being herded onto the subway like cattle is a vile “invasion of personal space.” In Wisconsin, if you accidentally bumped someone with your elbow, if you politely crashed into someone’s fender while riding your bike, if a car honked at you – there would be punches thrown. But here in “people mountain people sea” territory, it’s a fact of life so get used to it. 

Despite the casualness of not taking the elbows, crashes, honks personally, I have seen more fights in my 12 months in China than I’ve ever seen in America during my 22 years, 5 months, 4 days, and 18 hours of life. My theory is that when you put someone in ren shan ren hai territory, and they are constantly surrounded by the black-haired masses with no fresh air, no place to run, to roam, to spread your wings and inhale the horizon, people get edgy. A balloon can only be poked, elbowed, squished, and squeezed before it pops. Humans are no different.  

I’ve broken up three fights in my China life. Here they are: 

1)  I was walking from the subway to the Cloister and recognized two 15-year-old waiters from my favorite Muslim restaurant yelling, grabbing, flailing, spitting at each other. I shot in and grabbed one of the dudes and carried him to a quiet corner of the alley to cool off. He was probably 78 pounds. The next day they were laughing and working together; calling each other, “little nancies” in Chinese. 

2)  I was playing basketball at the courts across the street and one dude was getting a bit too physical. He was a chubby guy who was better at ball in his dreams than in reality. You know the type. He was guarding me. One of my teammates passed me the ball but it hit Chubs in the thigh and he stomped off and popped my teammate right on the cheek. I got between them and started blocking Chubs like an offensive lineman for about 4 minutes and 43 seconds till he walked off the court. 

3)  This was the most serious and the most recent. I was waiting to go out with my buddies Larry and Wang Chen. It was Singles’ Day – 11.11.2011. In China there is this lame holiday that celebrates singles every November 11^th. Kind of like celebrating picking your nose. Anyway, I’m waiting for Larry to pick me up outside of KFC and there is a street vendor who was selling hats and scarves right next to me. I’m just thinking about food and horses and Reese Witherspoon when I hear this man start screaming at this woman walking her bike a few feet away. She wasn’t happy about the price of his rip-off scarf, so she must have said something that hinted at his lack of manhood and he responded by screaming drunken scathing slurs then walking over and kicking her bike over then shoving this college student to the ground. I was only a few feet away so I immediately shoved him away with my left hand and helped up the trembling girl. She was maybe 25. She thanked me profusely for protecting her.

I got her on her feet, picked up her bike, and walked her away. A gawking passive crowd had formed. Watching the injustice, cursing the drunken fool in their minds, but too afraid to not be a statue. After the girl was safe, I arrogantly walked back to my spot where I was waiting before, crossed my arms, and looked at the fool. That was the nonverbal invitation for a fight. So, he and his three buddies form a horseshoe around me and started yelling at me. I smiled and responded with a line I know all too well, “Ting bu dong” (hear but don’t understand). They came closer and closer but I didn’t move. One dude took a bike lock and pressed it to my clavicle and muttered something venomous like, “You gringos don’t even know how to properly cook eggplant.” 

At this point my heart is racing, but I keep up my stupidly stoic “ting bu dong” routine. Eventually another sober vender comes over and takes me by the elbow and escorts me away from the drunken hyenas. 

Ren shan ren hai.