In China, phone calls often turn into a guessing game.

That’s because most callers don’t identify themselves. I’ve given my cell number to hundreds of people in China, including many I’ve met just once or twice. So when they call and don’t give me their name, I usually have no idea who I’m talking to unless I’ve entered them in my contacts and they show up on my caller ID.

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I found an Internet thread on this phenomenon that offered several explanations:

  • Because names have more significance in China than they do in Western countries, people don’t like to use them in casual conversations.
  • Almost everyone in China has a cell phone with caller ID, so they assume you do too.
  • It’s a paranoid outgrowth of living in an authoritarian state. Callers don’t give their names because they’re worried about being tracked down if trouble arises.
  • Phone etiquette varies from country to country.

Whatever the reason, not knowing who you’re talking to can lead to uncomfortable situations. I once got a call from a Chinese woman I didn’t recognize who said she was upset with me over an incident I couldn’t recall. I kept asking her how she knew me, but she refused to answer and insisted I knew her. After about five minutes of this, I got frustrated and hung up.

Using the recent calls list on my iPhone, I was eventually able to identify her. She turned out to be a teacher at my university who I met once and gave my number to. I asked a colleague about her and was told the woman had mental problems. Ever since, I’ve been more careful about giving out my number.

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In my Zhengzhou apartment, my washing machine has no hot water, my TV has no English channels and my refrigerator has no ice maker or ice trays. (The Chinese prefer hot drinks to cold ones.)

Completely missing are several appliances that are standard in most American homes: an oven, a clothes dryer and a garbage disposal.

The Chinese do most of their cooking in woks, which only require hot plates. Garbage disposals use too much precious electricity, while dryers take up too much space and are considered inferior to Mother Nature as a way to remove moisture from clothes.

I don’t miss an oven because I rarely cook, and it’s no great burden to throw food waste in a garbage can instead of a hole in the sink. As for drying, I drape my wet clothes on hangers connected to a metal beam suspended from my ceiling. It does the trick, and also serves as a handy reminder of where to find clean clothes.