Yes doesn’t always mean yes

When I had just moved to the Netherlands, my neighbour asked if I would like to come over for coffee. I said: ‘No, thank you, I don’t want to be any trouble.’ I expected her to ask again. That is how it works in China: you politely refuse first, the other person insists, and the second or third time you say yes. My neighbour nodded, said ‘Okay, another time then!’ and closed the door.

I drank tea on my own that afternoon. And I learned a lot from it.

I have lived in the Netherlands for many years now. I teach Chinese, I make art from paper and I often explain how things are done ‘where we come from’. But who is ‘we’, really? The longer I live here, the more I notice that I stand in two worlds at once. In this piece I write down what has struck me. Not as rules, because every Dutch person and every Chinese person is different. Just as small stories that surprised me.

Saying what you think

The Dutch are known for being direct, and it is true. A colleague once told me: ‘Your presentation was too long and the second half was boring.’ Straight after that she asked if I wanted to join her for lunch. I was hurt; she had already forgotten about it.

In China hardly anyone would put it like that. We talk around things. We say ‘perhaps you could have another look at the second part’ and trust the other person to understand. It has to do with miànzi (面子), face. You don’t want anyone to lose face, certainly not in front of others. Criticism is given in private, and carefully wrapped.

By now I appreciate the Dutch way. You know where you stand. But I have also noticed that Dutch people often don’t hear the Chinese ‘perhaps’. When a Chinese student says ‘that is an interesting idea’, he sometimes simply means: no.

The diary

My first birthday party with Dutch friends was planned three weeks in advance. I had to pick a date from a list. In my family, my aunt calls at five in the afternoon: ‘We’re having dinner together tonight, are you coming?’ And then everyone comes.

At first I found the Dutch diary cold, as if a friendship were a dentist’s appointment. Now I see it differently. When a Dutch person makes time for you, that time really is yours. Nobody checks their phone for something better. An appointment is a promise.

Still, I sometimes miss the spontaneity. Just dropping by, without sending a message first. I still don’t dare to do that here.

Eating together

In a Chinese restaurant you order for the whole table. All the dishes go in the middle and everyone takes a little of everything. The host pays, and the others pretend they want to pay. Sometimes people almost fight over the bill. That is part of it.

The first time I went out to dinner with Dutch colleagues, everyone ordered their own plate. At the end someone used an app to work out exactly what each person owed, down to the cent. I was a little shocked. Wasn’t this rather unfriendly?

A friend explained it to me: this way nobody feels obliged and nobody owes anyone anything. That is a form of respect too, just a different one from what I was used to. At home I still put everything in the middle. My Dutch guests now think that is the best part of the evening.

Presents

At a Dutch birthday party, the person celebrating opens a present straight away, in front of everyone. Then everyone says how lovely it is. In China you put a present aside and open it later, after the giver has left. That way nobody has to feel awkward if the present is disappointing, or very expensive.

There are also things you had better not give in China. A clock, for example. ‘Giving a clock’ (送钟, sòng zhōng) sounds exactly like ‘seeing someone off to their death’ (送终). A Dutch friend once gave my mother a beautiful wall clock. She smiled and thanked him warmly. Only later did I explain to him why she had been so quiet that evening.

Just act normal

‘Just act normal, that’s crazy enough.’ I heard that Dutch saying in my first year. The Dutch don’t like showing off. If you are good at something, you don’t need to say so.

Chinese children also learn to be modest, but in a different way. When someone pays you a compliment, you say: ‘Oh, it’s nothing.’ Or: nǎlǐ nǎlǐ (哪里哪里), literally ‘where, where?’. At the same time, parents are enormously proud of diplomas and prizes, and they love to show them.

My Dutch students always laugh when I teach them how to turn down a compliment. ‘Why would you do that?’ they ask. My Chinese friends, on the other hand, are startled when a Dutch person simply says ‘thank you’. Isn’t that a bit arrogant? No, it is just a different agreement.

What I take with me

After all these years I notice that I have taken something from both sides. I now plan my birthday weeks ahead too, but I still cook for twelve when eight people are coming. I say what I think more often, but preferably not in front of others. And when someone offers me coffee, I say yes straight away.

Cultural differences are not walls. They are more like the two banks of a river. You don’t have to stay on one side. You can build a bridge and walk back and forth. That is what I try to do in my lessons, in my art and in my own life.

Do you recognise something in this story, or have you experienced cultural differences yourself? I would love to hear about it. Send me a message via the contact page.