Welcome To My Home - Roy Blackwood E

Shortly after we arrived in China, my assistant introduced me to a professor who greeted me
in Chinese. Obviously, as I did not speak Chinese, I had no idea what he had said, so my
assistant translated, saying, “Welcome to my home.” Well, that I understood, so I responded
with, “We’d love to come—when would be good for you?” The man looked surprised, and there
was a long pause before he said, “How about if you and your family come to dinner Friday?” I
said that would be fine, and we said goodbye. After we left, I asked my assistant what had been
wrong, why the man had been so surprised when I accepted his invitation. My assistant paused,
then said, “Oh, nothing, he was just thinking about when the best time would be.” I wasn’t entirely
convinced, but I accepted his explanation. Months later, I learned that, “Welcome to my
home,” was a standard greeting to people visiting China, and meant something like, “I hope you
are enjoying China.” It wasn’t an invitation to his home any more than my saying, “Hello, how
are you doing?” would have been an invitation for him to catalogue his ailments and personal
problems in detail. Similar situations—in which we assumed we understood meanings just
because we understood the meanings of words—plagued us throughout our year in China. We
adjusted quickly, however, to most of the cultural differences, and learned to accept even those
customs we didn’t like, but there always remained the inherent possibility that, although we
acted in good faith, we acted incorrectly. We could never be sure that our understanding of what
people said to us—even in English—was cultural, as well as linguistic.