Squatting

I used to live in a high-construction zone in Beijing. I saw many workers who, when they weren't using 19th century tools to do 21st century jobs, were relaxing in a very traditional way. By squatting. When I asked one of my colleagues about squatting, the answer was predictable.


"Squatting? Yes, of course. Everyone does this."


Yet when I saw it in action for the first time, my mind echoed the words of James Carter from "Rush Hour 2": "Now I KNOW I don't think I'm seeing what I see I'm thinking!"


Here was a guy sitting flat-footed on his heels -- on the edge of a raised platform, no less -- as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And what I wanted to say was, "Sir, please. Find a comfortable seat. You are not an animal in a zoo." Besides, it looked too much like he was taking a dump, and in a city where defecating indoors seems optional, it was not a pleasant image to behold. Get 5 or 6 guys squatting together around an open flame, and you're imagining the campfire scene from "Blazing Saddles."


The unfortunate truth is that, in fact, squatting is kind of necessary, because there are very few clean public places to sit. Suppose you're tired enough to rest on a park bench for a while. You might wind up sitting on 1) a fine coating of dirt from a dusty building project, or 2) an oily film from smokestack pollutants, or 3) someone else's spit, or 4) a slimy combination of all three.


So, while in Beijing, always have a newspaper available to put between your butt and the seat of your choice, and be thankful that pork and beans is not a popular item in the Chinese grocery stores.