Lost on Planet China!

J. Maarten Troost, author of Lost on Planet China, explains what he learned about life - and lines - during his travels throughout China!

Commitment: Your book, Lost on Planet China:  One Man's Attempt to Understand the World's Most Mystifying Nation, is very funny! How were you able to maintain your sense of humor amidst the public defecation, rough crowds and crazy drivers?

J. Maarten Troost: Well, if you think about it, you’d probably find that misery lies at the source of much that we find funny. Falling down is funny. Walking into a parking meter is funny. Being splattered by a meringue pie is funny – sometimes. And in that vein, reading about a guy who is not really feeling the love for China can be funny. And I think, perhaps, that’s what people sense here – authorial discomfort with China.

Commitment: Your title implies that China is a different world. Why is that?

Maarten: Like the Unites States, China can feel like an island. It is self-contained. The outside world seems a little fuzzy, a little mysterious. Partly, of course, this is a consequence of its history. For so long, China lived behind its walls, willfully removed from the larger world. And partly, this is a reflection of its sheer size. When you live in a country that contains one-fifth of all humanity, I don’t think you feel the same need to explore and absorb other cultures as say if you lived in Luxemburg. And so in a way – because of its history and size – China sometimes seems to live apart from the rest of the world, if that makes sense.

Commitment: You state that many of the assumptions you held about China such as public order under one party rule were proved false. What other assumptions had you made before your trip?

Maarten: Oh gosh, where to begin. It’s true. I was startled by how anarchic China can sometimes feel. And while I had always known that China was a trifle polluted, I was in no way prepared for quite how apocalyptic their pollution problem had become. I was also surprised by how disinterested the middle class, and particularly students, were in political reform, though I suspect that will change as the world’s economic woes begin to impact China further.

On the other hand, I was mighty impressed by their infrastructure. Living in the US, you tend to believe that you live in the more quote advanced unquote country. A train trip from Nanjing to Shanghai and the gilded skyscrapers of Pudong will quickly disabuse you of that notion.

Commitment: Public spitting and erratic driving were two of the local customs that most unnerved you. What were some of the others?

Maarten: Hell is a line in China. I’m not entirely certain why the concept of waiting for your turn has failed to make inroads in China, but in any event orderly queues are not something that the Chinese excel at.

Commitment: A few of your experiences were scary – being stuck on a small island during a super typhoon, getting attacked by a deranged young man; was there any point at which you wished you had never boarded that plane to Beijing?

Maarten: Not in the specific sense. Discomfort and unpleasantness are simply a part of the travel experience. I figured that if I always felt safe and comfortable, I was probably missing something. Now and then, however, I’d have those existential moments, instances when I’d stop and ask what, exactly, was I doing here? I have small children and periodically it would be difficult to reconcile the fact that while they’re marching off to pre-school I’m riding a camel in the Gobi Desert.

Commitment: You ate some pretty interesting things on this trip. Do you think one has to be an adventurous eater to enjoy China?

Maarten: Oh absolutely. One, it’s the most straightforward way to experience the richness and diversity of Chinese culture. And second, outside of places like Beijing and Shanghai, there aren’t too many Chinese chefs with a firm grasp of western cuisine. It isn’t long before the traveler realizes that the words Western Buffet ought to be regarded as a threat and when encountered, the thing to do – the only thing to do – is to flee to the nearest market and see what goodies await in the reptile section.

Commitment: The combination of history and personal anecdote made this a great read. How much research went into the project?

Maarten: Oodles.

Commitment: Many passages described the discrepancy between the wealthy and poorer classes of people. Have you found such pronounced differences in other places you’ve lived or traveled?

Maarten: Certainly. But what makes class divisions in China so very interesting is that we’re talking about the People’s Republic of China. They’re supposed to be pinko commies devoted to the ideal of a classless society, and yet of course no place has embraced hyper-capitalism with greater zest than China. And so that was interesting to me – the tension between the ideological foundations of the state and a contemporary reality that contradicts everything that the state allegedly stands for.

Commitment: You refer to Chinese people as the “Americans of Asia.” What exactly do you mean?

Maarten: For a while, the new middle class in China was keen to adopt one of America’s more notable attributes – they too started to buy lots of crap they didn’t actually need. And this adoption of pointless materialism seemed like an expression of confidence, a faith in the future that is often shared by Americans. But then, of course, the global financial system imploded and now the Chinese are once again discovering the virtues of frugality. Just like Americans.

Commitment: Having spent time there, do you still believe China is the future?

Maarten: I believe our future is intertwined with China’s. From climate change to global finance, our number one dance partner will be China, for better or worse.

Commitment: Many of your experiences were colored by your inability to speak Chinese. How important is it to speak the language of the country in which you are traveling?

Maarten: It’s true. I did find the Chinese language a trifle difficult to master. But I also discovered that even the Chinese have a hard time understanding each other. In Guangzhou, they speak Cantonese. In Shanghai, people speak the Wu dialect. Both are incomprehensible to a resident of Beijing who speaks Mandarin. And there are a multitude of other dialects and sub-dialects. Very often, I’d ask a translator for a translation and I’d be told that, alas, she didn’t understand the dialect. So not even the Chinese understand Chinese. I took some comfort in that. 

Commitment: You met many foreigners who were seeking their fortunes in China. What advice would you have for people thinking of going to China to become rich?

Maarten: Um… go ask someone else. I’m busy storing canned goods in my bunker.

With its enormous export-based economy, China is being hit particularly hard by The Troubles. Millions of migrant workers have been laid off. Factories are closing. Container ships are idling in port. But, as the Chinese say, there is opportunity in every crisis.

Commitment: What were some of the most important things you learned from this journey?

Maarten: I learned a lot about perspective. Everything about China – its history, its enormous population, even its architecture – has a way of making an individual observer feel small and insignificant. The country just has a way of making you feel humble.

Commitment: Few travel books end with a cliffhanger like yours – on a Chinese boat whose engine dies in waters just feet from the coast of North Korea. What happened next?

Maarten: More sputtering disbelief. Much cursing. Lamentations to the gods of fate. Deep breathing. Until finally, the engine coughed back to life and we made our way back to the Chinese shore. I wanted to end the book on an up note, if not for myself, than at least for China. And there’s something about drifting on the Yalu River - powerless as the currents push you toward North Korea - that makes you really appreciate China.

J. Maarten Troost is the author of Getting Stoned with Savages and The Sex Lives of Cannibals.  His essays have appeared in the Atlantic Monthly, the Washington Post, and the Prague Post.  He spent two years in Kiribati n the Equatorial Pacific, and upon his return was hired as a consultant by the World Bank.  After several years in Fiji and Vanuatu, he recently relocated to the United States and now lives with his wife and two sons in California.

To purchase Lost on Planet China, click here.