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life essay: part 5
In 1974, I was chosen for another special training course. Little did I know that the experience would eventually start changing the way I saw the world.
The Chinese government was implementing a program to identify the finest young wushu athletes in the country. The process of selection took several months. A group of us would train together for a while, and then the coaches would sift and screen out those who weren't good enough. This process was repeated over and over again, until they were satisfied with the team they had created. Thirty of us made the final cut.
Our first big assignment would be to represent China (and her 20 million wushu practitioners) on a goodwill tour of the United States. As you can imagine, it was a very significant visit. Sino-U.S. relations were still very touchy at the time.
In preparation for this visit to the West, we were put through an astonishingly detailed training course. And I don't just mean wushu training -- we were used to that by now. This time, we were required to learn the ins and outs of Western social etiquette. Not only were we taught how to eat with a knife and a fork, but we had to know which knife and fork were used for each course. And then there were the little social graces: under no condition were we to let the knife touch the plate, or to show our teeth while chewing, or to use a toothpick in an undignified manner.
Our teachers also instructed us on the proper demeanor and deportment for air travel: how to board the plane and how to sit quietly. We were taught the proper protocol for answering the telephone, how to listen and respond when an American asked us a question, how we were expected to behave when surrounded by crowds, etc. Everything was so complicated. It took half a year, that etiquette training! And we had to learn all this in addition to all the wushu forms that we were expected to perform flawlessly.
We were thrilled when the classes came to an end at last and we could set off on our goodwill tour. We would be visiting four cities in the United States: Honolulu, San Francisco, New York, and finally, Washington, D.C.
From Beijing, we flew first to Hong Kong, then from there to Mexico, where we gave wushu demonstrations for half a month. Then we flew to Hawaii, setting foot on American soil for the first time. I remember very clearly that I inadvertently became the center of a comic scene there...though at the time, it almost turned into a huge international incident.
At Honolulu International Airport, I happened to see an airplane on the runway with the words "China Airlines" written on the side. China Airlines was then (and still is) owned and operated by a Taiwanese company, but of course, I didn't know that. Terribly excited, I began yelling, "Wow! Look, it's an airplane from China! A Chinese airplane! Look, everyone! Look!"
Immediately, some adult put his hand over my mouth and barked: "That's enough!"
Huh?
Because, of course, Mainland China was Mainland China and Taiwan was Taiwan. In the mid '70s, there was no policy more fundamental than the differentiation between the Republic of China and the People's Republic of China. It was a very sensitive political issue.
Me, I'd just been excited to see what I thought was an airline operated by my country. When the adults hushed me, I quickly realized that I'd done something wrong. I was scared to death. Thought they'd send me back home for sure.
TO BE CONTINUED ...
