The first time I went to China was in 1996. I stayed in Hong Kong for a few days, then moved to Taipei to study Chinese and later earned a doctorate at Fu Jen University. Since then, I have studied and worked in China for almost 30 years, with one break of four years when I taught in Jerusalem, Israel.
So it is not surprising that every time I return to my small town in northern Italy, my friends and relatives refer to me as “the Chinese”. “The Chinese is back” or “the Chinese is here” are common expressions I hear whenever I return to Italy.
How did I become “Chinese”? Someone once told me: “You behave in a Chinese way.”
What does that mean?
For example, in Chinese tradition it is considered good manners not to offer direct observations or criticism, but instead to focus on the other person rather than on oneself. While Italians would have no problem saying, “It’s time for me to go,” I now prefer to say, “Maybe you are busy? I don’t want to take too much of your time.”
Italians also have no hesitation in saying a loud and clear “no”. I now find that quite rude, having grown used to the Chinese “yes” which often actually means “no” but in a very indirect way.
Similarly, I often forget that in Italian, “please wait a moment” usually means that something will be done a little later, not that the person is politely saying, “sorry, it’s not possible.”
Sometimes I also like to eat in a “Chinese” way. It is not about the food — Italian food is as good as Chinese food — but about feeling uncomfortable when everyone orders individual portions instead of sharing dishes placed in the middle of the table.
I often look at Italy with Chinese eyes. For example, in China, before making a decision, people usually refer to someone in a higher position. But in Italy it seems everyone — from the cleaning lady to the restaurant waiter — decides on the spot, without any need for consultation.
Another way in which I have become more “Chinese” is my discomfort with how much Italians love to argue, hold different opinions, and express them freely without fearing that this might affect friendships or relationships. I now feel uneasy when surrounded by too many conflicting opinions and heated discussions.
What also surprises me is how Italians do not care where they stand in a group photo or who stands in the middle. It simply does not matter. In China, before a group photo, people can spend up to 10 minutes jostling and tugging to persuade others to stand in the middle or stay away from it.
I can now leave a room without telling everyone “I’m leaving” — something that is considered impolite in Italy but seen as a sign of humility in China.
I also feel uneasy in summer when I see how little some Italian girls wear and notice with disapproval when people offer gifts using only one hand.
When I was more “Italian”, I used to say, “This is a wonderful place — look, there’s no one here!” Now, places without crowds make me uncomfortable.
I am also surprised by how Italians can hold conferences or meetings with very little organization.
In Beijing, people queue up in an orderly manner at metro stations and public offices. I often wish people in Italy could import this nice habit.
The first time I gave red envelopes to my nieces, they were puzzled. But now they have learned what these red envelopes mean, and always look forward to receiving them.
I study Confucianism and often talk about it, and I see that its wisdom is appreciated in Italy as well.
I speak Chinese in local Chinese shops — famous in Italy for being open 24 hours a day, seven days a week — as well as in Chinese restaurants and laundries, always receiving a mixture of surprise and suspicion.
So yes, I have become a little Chinese.
And like many other foreigners, in China I will always be a laowai, and in Italy “the Chinese”.

The author is a professor at the International Institute of Chinese Studies at Beijing Foreign Studies University.
The views don’t necessarily represent those of China Daily.