How do you do it, living in a country where people don't speak English? Ninotchka Rosca asked Evelyn and me in a subtly rebuking manner. That was when we went to New York exactly seven days after the 9/11 attacks. Ninotchka was invited by another New Yorker Pinay, Indai, to a joint dinner with us. "Simple, sign languages and lots of smiling", Evelyn replied. I didn't. I found it hard. That's because I wasn't a smiling person, neither am I friendly on a first impression. Once when I attempted to buy rice and vegetables I mispronounced "khao suay" and the guy buying exactly the same thing laughed and said something to the vendor. I looked hard at him, and almost walked away, if not for the acknowledgement of the vendor (via big nods of her head) that I was next. Later an officemate told me that "laughing it off", as it seemed to be the case, helped "extricate" me from an embarrassing situation because of my mispronounciation. "So, he actually saved me from embarrassment in front of the vendor?" I asked. "He was probably helping you explain what you wanted to eat", he said. "But he laughed!" I insisted. "He wasn't pointing at me or ribbing the people in the cue to point me to them, but he laughed..." "Laughing here," he repeated, "means very very different things to a foreigner, especially one so western-oriented as you".
So, I might have answered Ninotchka "it's not simple at all". It is so hard to look at the opposite direction when crossing the street, to memorize tongue-twisting words, read body languages, eat mouth-burning food, ride on the left side of the taxi seat, listen to your officemate's shrill traditional music all day, and face a boss who has no respect for your race.
She would've asked: why choose to stay there? and again Evelyn and I would have given very different answers.
