My alter ego: Ivanka

I am daily mistaken as a Russian.  I could perhaps, without too much exaggeration, even change that to hourly mistaken.  When I first came to China, I had no idea this false labeling was happening because I had no idea what the Chinese word was for Russian.  The first time I learned the word was when I traveled up to Harbin with a Chinese friend.  We made a day trip to visit the famous ice festival, and she laughed throughout the day about the number of people who commented on me being Russian.  Harbin has quite the large population of Russian nationals, so I thought perhaps it was just the location.  However, once I knew the Chinese word for Russian, I began to notice the word echoing in my wake wherever I went.  Taxi drivers, shop clerks, and gossiping grannies all immediately jump to the conclusion that I’m Russian.  Russian majors proudly come up to me and start prattling off in Russian, while I look at them with a blank stare.

It should be no surprise to those of you who know the team that my “Russian” identity has become a constant source of jokes and entertainment.  A few years back the team purchased a “Russian” hat for me (just think heaps of faux fur), that conveniently got misplaced after being used for a Halloween costume.  When a movie bought at the local market turns out to be only in Russian, someone chimes in, “Kat can translate!”

Recently, on our team retreat to Shenyang, we went to see Iron Man 2.  Movies don’t play in English in our city, so it was quite a treat to actually go to a movie theater.  The movie was just like what you’d see in the States, excepting the Chinese subtitles…and the fact that they garbled the language whenever Russia or Russian was mentioned (the Russians were the “bad guys” in the movie).  So, of course, upon walking out of the theater, Robb quipped, “They must have seen Kat walking in and put on the non-offensive Russian reel.”  As you can see, there is endless fuel for banter.

Up until today, I thought it was only the Chinese who mistake my nationality.  And really, I can’t blame them–Russia is a whole lot closer to where I live than America.  But today, as I was walking to class I saw one of the Russian foreign exchange students up ahead.  At least I think he was Russian; he did have large sunglasses on that covered his face and this entire post is on how people can be mistaken for Russians.  So let’s go back, I was passing a foreign exchange student of questionable national background.  I smiled and was preparing to say hello when he launched, with a smile, into a sentence in Russian.  I was a bit taken aback, and had already passed him before I could muster up any kind of response.

At least I know that if I ever get tired of China, there’s a country where I’m sure to fit in.