My Son is an Alien...

Here in China, our status of foreigner puts us in a special situation. In practical terms, apart from some inconveniences, it is not really a problem. Of course, we sometimes feel as if we are circus animals, with so many people watching us doing mundane things. Other times we feel just a bit different, as they do things with such obscure logic.  And then, we know we are being monitored (to various degrees probably depending on our profession and background). (Today's post is not so much about monitoring or censorship, but you can refer to these earlier posts here or there...)  We need to report to the police when we come in the country (I blogged about this here), and our elevator is plastered with indications on what each Alien must do upon landing in the country, to report. This is where we learn that we are officially labeled as such (rather than the more friendly term of "foreigner").
I really just can't get used to the word Alien. It really tells about our place here, as if we are always going to be looked at with some distance, with curiosity, interest or bewilderment. In some ways, the terms also evokes some possible risks. Looking back at China's history, not so long ago foreigners were limited to live in a few official hotels and apartments during their stays. And Chinese were officially encouraged to limit their contacts with Aliens (read here about early eighties' general state of mind towards Aliens ). And in a not so much more distant past, China was completely closed to the exterior world. Of course a huge amount of things have changed since the beginning of the Economic Reform, but it should not be a great surprise if some terminology in usage today still transpire the historical past of the country.
I could maybe start some kind of chinese archeological linguistic research here... 
And then when Emmanuel was born, we of course also had to register to him, and get him an official Chinese Diplomat ID (yes he is starting his career a bit young). And then I understood that despite all good intentions, their perception of us might be, well, hum, different...

Poor Emmanuel, he is fine now.