Salute to Fireworks

In honor of the Fourth of July, here's some Chinese firework footage.  The first is a video from Wuhan in 2006, from the top of the building I lived in.  This was taken on Chinese National Day, which is October 1st. 

These two photos are also from National Day 2006.  Some friends and I went to see the city's display of fireworks, set off not near but actually on the Yangtze river.

Oooh!  Ahhh!

Happy Fourth!

A Look At The New Restaurant

Sorry for the hiatus!  Peter has sold the stand that previously housed Three Sisters Rice Noodles.  The new, larger location, was formerly an SPR coffee; a Chinese chain that ripped off Starbuck's so badly that Starbucks actually won the lawsuit.  Peter, his cousin, and Dickey (I tried really hard to give him another English name, but Peter named him that when they were in high school, and it's stuck) are operating Thousand Flavor Foods.  The name sounds much better in Chinese, I promise.  Here's a look at it.  You may only watch this video if 1) you agree to bear with me through my unique, Blair With Project style of cinematography and 2) you promise to believe I am actually much hotter than I look in this video, and 3) you bear in mind that my Chinese is much better than it appears in this video.  Peter's mom is asking me what I am doing, but I don't know how to say "webcam," "upload" "email" or "youtube" in Chinese.  

Teach a Man to Fish, and he'll be Terrified for the Rest of his Life

More fish tales.  If you want to read the beginning of the fish saga, click here.

Me: What is your favorite food?
Vincent: Seafood.  But I don't like to eat fish.
Me: So, you mean you only like shellfish--crab, lobster, etc.
Vincent: Yes.  I really don't like to eat fish.
Me: You don't like the taste?
Vincent: No, I'm afraid of fish.
Me: Again?  Er, I mean, I don't like it when I can see the fish's face.  I only like headless fish.
Vincent: It's not that.  When I was young, my uncle used to chase me around with a whole, raw fish.
Me: But why?
Vincent: For fun?


Peter and I are in a Thai restaurant.  We're in a booth beside a decorative fish tank, which is filled with large goldfishy-type fish.  They make kissing faces at us.

Me: The fish here are nice.
Peter: Sure.
Me: Oh yeah, can you believe it, I had another student today who's afraid of fish?
Peter: Warily eying the fish tank.  I can believe it.
Me: Are those fish creeping you out?
Peter: No.
Me: What if one of them were to, you know, rush at you?
Peter: Maybe.
Me: Really??!  Why are so many Chinese people afraid of--
Peter: Never mind.  I lied.  I am not afraid of fish and I never was.
Me: Really.
Peter: Yes.  What do you want to eat?
Me: The lime chicken.  You?
Peter: The, er, fish soup.  Ground fish soup.
Me: Do you feel safer if they're ground up?
Peter:  Did I say ground fish soup?  I meant I want the ground Christense soup.

Here's What Happened (not related, I just like that title)

The things that get you most in China are the things you never realized were subject to culture.

Blame, for example.  The Chinese blame each other much differently than we do.  Does that sound petty?  Go get someone to mess with your sense of blame, then come talk to me.  You never know how much a thing like that can bother you until it's happened to you.

So there I was, coming home from school, feet swollen up like marshmallows.  The weather?  The arthritis?  The day?  I don't know why.  This morning student scheduled for two back-to-back classes (four hours),  beginning at 8am, did a no-show.  I ate a very salty bowl of spinach noodles and walked 30 minutes in the hot part of the day to get to my second class of the afternoon.  After two hours standing up talking about Moo Goo Gai Pan, I was bushed.  I wanted to get home and put my (marshmallows) feet up.

Hunting through a forgotten box for my summer shorts, I stumbled upon a long-forgotten bag of Dead Sea salt.  Score!  My feet soaking in simulated Dead Seawater, I propped up my laptop and watched and old episode of Star Trek TNG.  And when that was over, dagnabit, I watched another.  ("Darmok" and "Ensign Ro" for those that want to know.)

Later I was looking up the names of really, really big numbers (could I borrow a quattuordecillion dollars, please?) to teach to my students, when the phone rang.  It was Maia, from my school.

Maia: Are you on the way?
Me: To where?
Maia: To school.  Wang Fei is waiting for you.
Me: You must be mistaken.  I don't know any student called Wang Fei, and when I checked my schedule this afternoon, there was no class tonight.
Maia: There wasn't?
Me: No.
Maia: Well, could you come here, and tomorrow I will ask the scheduler about it?  The student is here waiting to have class.
(Here I should point out that it's 45 minutes into a two hour class.  I don't know why she waited so long to call me, but by the time I got there the class would be half over.  Nevertheless, I don't know what to do.  I've been here long enough to second- and third-guess my first instincts, because what I think it the right thing to do is often not--not at all--right in Chinese culture.  Peter's not home; I wish he were so I could call a sidebar for a culture conference.)
Me: Well, I don't think I can.  I don't know anything about Wang Fei, and I don't have a class prepared.
Maia: Oh.  Okay.  Well, do you have class here tomorrow?
Me: Yes, in the afternoon.
Maia: Okay, can you come see me?
Me: Sure.

Phone call ends.  I feel disquiet within my soul.  The American in me is saying, If you go to school now they'll think they can just call you in whenever they want.  They'll get sloppy about scheduling, you'll never have any peace again.  Besides, it's not your fault.  Any class you'd teach would be useless, anyway.

It's long, hard-won, and I don't particularly like it, but important for any person living or working outside their own culture for an extended amount of time is a sense of justice in that secondary culture.  My sense of Chinese Justice keeps hitting the replay button on Maia (who is one of the good ones) going in to tell the unknown Wang Fei that there would be no class tonight.

I call Peter.  He's wrapped up in some noodle caper and can't talk.  I go back to reading giant numbers, not as amused as I was five minutes ago.

Fifteen minutes later my phone rings again.  I'm briefly afraid it's Maia again, or my boss calling to tell me I've committed some grave offense and I must duel Maia to the death.  After this long, I believe anything can happen in China.

It's just Peter, though.  I sketch the problem for him.

Peter: You should have gone.
Me: Really??
Peter: Yeah, really.
Me: But it's not my fault.  I shouldn't have to rush in and teach some crappy, slapdash lesson just to cover for someone else!  It's not fair to the student to get half a lesson.
Peter: That makes perfect sense...in American culture.  In China you have to help her out, and then tomorrow you can figure out what went wrong.  It's better that the teacher comes late than that you don't come at all.
Me: (I can hear his facial expression) It's too late.  She's already sent the student home by now.
Peter: Okay, well, never mind.
Me: Is it bad?
Peter: No, it's not that bad.  Just talk nice to Maia tomorrow.

I hang up.  Mixed emotions.  I picture myself, arriving to class an hour late.  I'd apologize, because I am genetically encoded to do so; I'd apologize and then hate myself for it.  Alternately I picture Maia, explaining to the student that there won't be any foreign teacher class tonight.  I'm not sure what she's telling the student.  White lies are a perfectly acceptable and essential part of Chinese culture.  The student is not happy.  These kinds of things don't go over well.  Some students can be very demanding...at least, the Chinese teachers think so.  I've never had any trouble with them.  But I don't always get the real.

The bottom line is, coming in late, I'd look wrong.  Me not coming, the school would look wrong.  I am no longer sure what part this blame formula played in my split-second decision to tell Maia I wasn't coming to class.  I am displeased.  I pull on Peter's old sweatshirt and go downstairs to buy a soda.

Later, Peter comes home.  I am on the bed pretending that I am planning a lesson, but really I am flipping listlessly though Facebook.  Peter's birthday is on Wednesday, so I don't take much notice of the package he's carrying, wrapped in pink paper.  (Pink doesn't mean anything.  "Real men wear pink" started in China.)

The package is for me.

Me: Why?
Peter: Why not?
Me: I haven't done the dishes.
Peter: I know.  You had a bad day.
Me: Your mom made fun of my lunch.
Peter: No one but you thinks those noodles taste good, baby.

He hands me the box.  I set it on the bed in front of me.  After generous pause, he takes it and loosens the wrapping paper, as if demonstrating.  I take it back and finish the job.

The outside of the box says...

Me: Lose your life?
Peter: Love your life.
Me: Much better that way.

I open the box gingerly.  My husband is not a giver of spontaneous gifts.  It could be anything: a gag,  something he thinks I'll love but I'll hate, something wildly inappropriate...or something perfect.

Out of the box comes a plastic model of a stone, the size of a large grapefruit.  An electrical plug comes out of the back of it.  On top there's a small round patch of green fuzz.  Emerging from the fuzz are three wires tipped with LED lights.  Each light is shaded by a tiny lampshade, one white, one blue, one orange.  In the box is a small card with instructions in Chinese, and a brand name: Avatap.  My husband has Avatapped me.

Quick, I think to myself.  Say something appreciative.  You want to encourage this kind of behavior.  He'll be embarrassed if you don't like it, so say something that you'd say if you liked it.  Make him believe you know what's going on.

Me: Oh...great.
Peter: It's a light!
Me: Yeah, I see that.  Cool!
Peter reaches into the box and pulls out a handful of artificial foliage and flowers.  He briefly consults the card.
Peter: See?  You can poke these in here (indicating the green patch) anywhere you want, and make it beautiful.
Me: Anywhere I want.  Neat!
Beat.
Peter: You don't know what it is, do you?
Me: It's a light.  A neat-o light.
Peter: You wanted a lamp for beside your bed, but we never found one your liked.  I was going to buy you a new handbag, but I didn't know what kind you wanted.  I thought this was better for you.  Do you recognize it?
Me: It's a hairy lamp.  It's great!
Peter: This lamp is a piece of that planet, Avatar.
A long pause.  
Me: Oh...oh...OH!

Before my eyes it transforms.  The three little lamps are mushrooms.  The foliage starts to look familiar.  The green fuzz is a patch of moss, in which the plastic daisies will pretend to grow.  Oh!

I've had a vague dislike for Avatar ever since I heard that the movie caused a strange phenomenon. People were actually becoming clinically depressed because they wanted to go live on Avataria (whatever, I can't remember the actual name) but they couldn't because it was, after all, not real.  To me, that seemed to be totally missing the point of the movie.  But I'd enjoyed it otherwise, especially the glowing flora.  If that movie had come out when I was twelve, I would have been totally hooked.

Peter: So, you like it?
Me: Now that I know what it is, I totally love it.
Peter: And the LEDs are earth friendly!
Me: Yeah, sure.  Let's plug it in!
As we bask in the blue-white-orange glow...
Me: So are you mad at me about the school thing?
Peter: Of course not.  You can't be more than you are, baby.  Whatever else you are, you're an American.
Me: Do you think the school is going to make a big deal about it?
Peter: No.  Just talk to Maia tomorrow.  Tell her you're sorry.
Me: Do I have to be 100% sorry?
Peter: No. Ok?
Me: Ok.

Sometimes I'm Smart, Too

Tim and I are playing Catchphrase.  This is why it's hard to get good directions in China.
 
Tim: This word means what you should do if you don't know something.
Me: Research?  Look it up? Dictionary?
Tim: No.  Someone asks you, but you don't know the answer.
Me: I've played this game a quadrillion times with various students, so I know what all the words are.  Tell a lie?
Tim: That's right!
Me: That's sad.


Amamda and I are playing Catchphrase.


Me: When you see something beautiful and you want to remember it, what will you do?
Amanda: Potato!
Me: Potato?
Amanda: Potato.  Potato...photo!  Take a photo!


In a class of 12 students, we are playing a game called "What did I do yesterday?"  The class has decided where Stuart went (Walmart) what he thought about it (crowded) and what he bought (shampoo).  Just a note here: Peter says Wal-Mart smells like China. 

Stuart: Did I go somewhere in China?
Class: Many countries have this place.
Stuart: Disneyland?
Me: It's a big store from America.
Stuart: Oh, Wal...Wa...wo er ma!
Me: Yes, Wal-Mart.
Class: What did you think about it?
Stuart: Confusing.
Class: No!
Stuart: Smelly?
Me: Yes, but no.
Class: Like riding the bus at 6pm.
Stuart: Crowded!


Later in that class, Michael approaches me.  There's about an hour left of this four-hour class.

 Michael: I'm sorry teacher, I have to leave early.  I have something to do.  (This is a standard Chinese excuse.  I guess they don't feel obligated to make up an actual lie.)
Me: Okay, that's fine.
Michael: Okay, teacher, thank you so much.
Me: Tell your girlfriend I said hi.
Michael: How did you know?!

Here's What Happened

Imagine, if you will, yourself, at home alone on boys' night out.  (If you are a boy, please either imagine yourself as a girl or change "boys' night out" to "girls' night out.")  You're having a grand ol' time watching reruns of the Big Bang Theory, pretending it is research for new class material. 

An onion ring makes an appearance.  Your mouth waters.  Your loins quiver.  You try not to remember that you can make awesome onion rings.

You continue watching for a reasonable time, until transition to sleepytime is practical, but you can hold back the truth no further.  You bought an onion two days ago, right before Peter called and announced you were going out to eat.  It sits in the icebox, awaiting you.  (Yes, I know onions don't live in the icebox.  I like to think outside the box.  Or in it.)  You have the flour--you always have flour, Betty Crocker.  The bodega downstairs doesn't close for another 15 minutes.

It's meant to be.

Off you trot in your PJ's (people stare no matter what, might as well be comfortable) and return with a bottle of Xi'an's cheapest.  The pile of dirty dishes in the sink only slightly dampens the mood.  You're whistling (well, you would be if you could whistle) as you forage for cleanish dishes and line seasonings up in a row.  Down, down to the deepest depths of the cabinet you delve for that all-essential but rarely used flour.

Hmm.

You remember the flour clearly.  You remember insisting on buying it about nine months ago, the flour and an airtight plastic tub (ridonkulously expensive in China) to keep it in.  After using about nine tablespoons of it, you decided on a new organizational system.  You wrapped it and a bag of rice up in a cleverly arranged network of zipper bags, then filled the tub with cleaning supplies.  Tub and flour parted company.

Hmm.

A phone call to your husband establishes that he doesn't remember what he did.  More talking establishes that he remembers taking the rice, and only the rice, to use in his noodle shop.  (No, that's not supposed to make sense.)  The karaoke music in the background is getting distracting, but even more talking establishes that he is sincerely repentant for an offense he does not fully understand.  He holds firm on the fact that the rice and rice only left the house with him, and quickly follows up with a promise of piles of golden-brown onion rings at his shop tomorrow (presumably made from rice...?). 

It is tempting.  His onion rings are better than yours.  So much better, you're not even jealous.  And he's truly sorry.  Yep, he's a keeper.

Nevertheless, it won't help you tonight.  You let him off the hook and ask him to sing Poker Face for you (again). 

Plan second is the world's most awesome smoothie: pineapple-mango, FTW!  There's just enough stuff left to make a really good one.  The mangoes are wrinkly...which means they're in perfect ripeness.  Their smell is intoxicating.  Funny, I've never seen pineapple like that before.  I wonder what it tastes--oh.  Where's the trash can? 

So, to recap, you've got no onion rings, no delicious smoothie, and the taste of overripe-and-not-in-a-good-way pineapple in your mouth.  Sigh.

But!  You've still got your Big Bang Theory research to do (that would be a lot more auspicious if it wasn't capitalized) and you do, after all, have the beer! 

Which is warm.

Middle Earth in the Middle Kingdom, or How my Students are Smarter than Me

I am teaching a lesson about Chinese food to Jeff.  I've just shown him a picture of a bowl of Egg Flower Soup made in the good ol' USA.

Me: So, is this like the soup in China?
Jeff: Kind of.  The eggs look wrong.
Me: What's different about them?
I know very well what's different, but it's good practice for Jeff to explain it to me, so I play dumb.  How can he complain about his food in the States like a true American if I don't teach him now?
Jeff: In China we add more...um...checks dictionary...it's not in my dictionary.
Me: Maybe you can describe it to me.
Jeff: It turns blue when you add iodine.
Me: Um, what?
Jeff: Iodine?
Me: Iodine...
Jeff: Yeah, when you add iodine to it it turns blue.
Me: The only food I can think of with iodine is salt.
Jeff: No, not salt.  When we add it to Chinese soup it makes it thicker and the shape of the eggs is more beautiful, really like flowers.
Me: Thinking of Peter cooking. Starch?  Corn starch?
Jeff: Yes!  Starch.  We add more starch.
Me: You know, iodine is not where I would have started trying to explain cornstarch.
Jeff: You're welcome.



Talking with Stan before the Chinese food lesson.  This conversation took place in Chinese.

Stan: I really like blah blah blah.
Me: You like hot and sour diarrhea?
Stan: I like hot and sour soup.  SOUP!


My students aren't always clear on the difference between "hobby" and "habit."  They mix up both the words and the meanings.  Occasionally, my nerdly heart soars when they ask me:

What's your hobbit?


 Bruce is Party Animal's best friend.  The two of them are going to London together to study English and then go to high school.

Bruce: I like cars, but I don't like buses.
Me: Why is that?
Bruce: Have you been on the bus in Xi'an?  Those drivers think they're driving race cars, not buses.
Me: I couldn't have said it better myself.


My last lesson with Party Animal.  We are doing a lesson entitled For or Against?  The legal driving age in China is 18, and there is no age limit for buying/drinking alcohol or buying/smoking cigarettes.

 Me: Are you for lowering the driving age to 15?
Party Animal: No.
Me: But if it were lowered then you could drive.
Party Animal: I don't think I can see over the steering wheel.  (It's true.)
Me: Oh...er...so, what do you think the legal age for driving should be?
Party Animal: 20.
Me: Really?  I know you like cars.  That's a long time to wait to drive.
Party Animal: I know.  I'm not ready.  My mom wouldn't let me drive, anyway.
Me:  Probably true.  Are you for or against a legal age for smoking cigarettes?
Party Animal: For.  I think it should be twenty as well.  They're not good for young people.
Me: Well, they're not good for anybody.
Party Animal: Yeah, but by 20 if they don't know better it's too late.
Me: Do you think there should be a legal drinking age for alcohol?
Party Animal: What's alcohol?
Me: Beer wine, and hard liquor like baijou.  (Baijou tastes like coconut flavored nail polish remover and is the way the Chinese punish unsuspecting tourists.)
Party Animal: I think the drinking age should be 20 also.  No, wait...
Me: Yes?
Party Animal: I think it should be 20 for beer and wine and 30 for hard liquor.
Me: Will you be running for president any time soon?  I think I'd vote for you.
Apparently-Not-Such-A Party Animal: Leaping to his feet and running to the window.  Dude!  I just saw a Lamborghini!

A Bit Fishy

I hit a busy spot so I have been absent, but I'm back with a few recent excerpts.  Let's start with a mistake about a traditional Chinese dish.

Kaelee: I like to eat hot pants.
Me: What?!
Kaelee: Oops, I mean hot pot.

Sherrie: I am afraid to go scuba driving.
Me: Scuba diving.
Sherrie: Oh, sorry.  Scuba diving.
Me: I tried to go scuba diving. but I chickened out.  I don't like deep water.
Sherrie: Oh, I don't mind deep water.  I love swimming.  I'm just really afraid of fish.
Me: Wait, you're afraid of fish?
Sherrie: Yes.
Me: Fish?
Sherrie: Fish.
Me: Why?
Sherrie: I don't know.  They just freak me out.
Me: The scales, the unblinking eyes...?
Sherrie: Yes.  Ew.
Me: Can you eat fish?
Sherrie: Yeah, I like to eat fish.
Me: So it's just looking at fish that creeps you out.
Sherrie: I don't like to see them when they're alive.
Me: So Finding Nemo must have been like a horror movie for you.

Me: Honey, today my student told me she's afraid of fish.  Fish!
Peter: So?
Me: Isn't that weird?  Have you ever heard of that before?
Peter: Yeah, sure.  A few people.
Me: Seriously?  Is that common in China?
Peter: I guess so.
Me: You guess?  Are any of your friends afraid of fish?
Peter: Well...I am.  I was, when I was younger.
Me: When you were younger?
Peter: Well, until I was like, fifteen.
Me: Fifteen?!
Peter: It's really not that big a deal.  Look, can we talk about something else?
Me: Finding Nemo?

I am very pleased this show is catching on in China.

Claire: I like to watch an American TV show called The Big Bang Theory.
Me: I love that show.  You said your major is physics, right?
Claire: Yes.
Me: So can you understand the physics they mention?
Claire: Some of it.  The vocabulary's very technical.
Me: So what's your opinion?
Claire: Sheldon is very interesting.

Kaelee: I had the phone interview with the American high school I want to go to.
Me: Which one was that?
Kaelee: Scared Heart High School.
Me: Sacred Heart?
Kaelee: Oh, yes.
Me: So did you feel nervous?
Kaelee: No, I felt great.

The Orange Chicken Recipe

I've been promised a good meatloaf recipe in exchange for Peter's Orange Chicken recipe.  I post it here for those who asked for it.  The Chinese don't measure, so all amounts are approximate.  Feel free to experiment and modify to fit your tastes.  If you like it I wouldn't mind getting a few of your best recipes in return.

1. Take 2-6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts and cut into one inch square pieces.
2. Roll the chicken pieces in flour. (Peter prefers cornstarch, but it gives the meat a mushy texture I dislike.)
3. Fry your chicken pieces in one inch of oil in a wok or heavy saucepan. Yes, deep fry. Chinese food is not healthy. (You could probably use grilled chicken if you wanted to.)
4. When cooked through, remove the chicken from the oil and and drain on a paper towel.
5. While the chicken is cooking, zest and juice one orange. Or more. Or maybe a lemon. Tangerine?  Set zest and juice aside.
6. In a wok or large fry pan combine two parts frozen orange juice concentrate with one part water.  (adjusting this ratio of water to concentrate will make the chicken more or less orangey.)
7. In the pan add the juice of the orange. Add a dash of salt. Don't leave the salt out. Add 1-3 tablespoons of good marmelade (marmelade is a little bitter, so if you're not used to it go sparingly or leave it out.)
8. In a separate bowl mix some cornstarch with water, one part cornstarch to two parts water. Ish.
9. Place the pan containing the orange mixture over medium heat. Bring to a gentle simmer. Using a wisk, add the cornstarch mixture in small amounts until the sauce is thickened to a pleasing consistency.
10. Add the cooked chicken to the sauce and let simmer for a minute.
11. Taste. If it seems like it "needs something" add a dash more of salt, garlic powder,sugar, rice vinegar or a dab of chicken broth..
12. When it's done remove from heat and sprinkle on the orange zest.
13. Serve with rice and stir-fried spinach or cucumber salad.

The International Bank of Peter

My salary is long gone, eaten by the bills, so I've been bumming from Peter and his noodle proceeds.

Me: Honey, I need some more cash.
Peter: How much do you want?
Me: How much am I worth?
Peter: Here's 150RMB.
Me: This is all in tens and fives.
Peter: So?
Me: Don't you need change for the shop?
Peter: No, I've got too much.  That's why you get it.
Me: I can't walk around with all these small bills.  People will think I'm a stripper.
Peter: It's not like you'll be going around making purchases of 50RMB.
Me: So this is how you control my spending.
Peter: Not at all.  For the right pair of shoes, you'd risk looking like a stripper.
Me: I want a divorce.
Peter: Can you get a divorce for 150 RMB?
Me: Maybe!
Peter: Your lawyer will think you're a stripper.
Me: Rats.
Peter: So, no on the divorce?
Me: Not today.  Maybe tomorrow.
Peter: Great.  Can you make some popcorn?

I Though Pregnant Women Were Supposed to be Forgetful

Crap!  She remembers! 

In November I had the following conversation with a pregnant woman who sells fruit on the street near my house.  I am bundled up in Peter's old sweatshirt buying some apples from her, and she is chatting me up about the cool weather.


Fruit Mamma: That's 8.50 RMB.
Me: Here you go.
Fruit Mamma (pointing to the bag in my hand): Did you get that sandwich to go?

(Stop.


The critics might argue that I should have known she wasn't talking about my sandwich.  After all, it was already wrapped up in a bag, clearly "to go."  My rebuttal is that Captain Obvious is alive and well in China.  I offer today's conversation with a taxi driver as proof.  This conversation took place in Chinese.

Me: Please take me to the New Oriental on the Second Ring Road.
Taxi Driver: Where?
Me: New Oriental School.  The one on the Second Ring Road.
Taxi Driver: There's a New Oriental on the Second Ring Road?
Me: Yes, the main campus.  It's right where Hanguang Street crosses the Second Ring Road.
Taxi Driver: I'm not sure I know where that is.
Me: Just head that way.  I know where it is, I can tell you.
Taxi Driver: You're sure you know where it is?
Me: Of course I do.  I work there.  I'm a teacher.
Taxi Driver:  Okay. (Beat) How long have you been in Xi'an?
Me: A year.
Taxi Driver: Are you here for work or travel?
Me: Maybe I should get another taxi...

So.  Obvious questions?  All a part of the game.  Cut back to me and the Fruit Mamma.)

Fruit Mamma: Did you get that sandwich to go?
Me: Um, yes?
Fruit Mamma: Cool.  Me too.  How many months?
Me: Huh?
Fruit Mama: When will it be born?
(At this point, the sluggish part of my brain that speaks Chinese reminds me that the slang for "baby" and "to go" sound awfully similar to me.  I do some fast thinking.)
 Me: Uh, July.
Fruit Mamma: I'm due in February.  Maybe our "to go"s can be friends.
Me: Yep!  Okay, bye!

Fast forward to today.  I haven't seen Fruit Mamma in awhile, because women are usually confined to the house for the last month of their pregnancy and the first month of motherhood.  It's considered unhealthy to go outside during this time.  There's a host of other superstitions that go along with this.  

At the time of my original mistake we had plans to move to another neighborhood before my mythical baby was to be born.  Those plans fell through, however, and Fruit Mamma's back today.  As I buy a bag of tiny, delicious mangoes she looks me up and down and says:

That baby's coming soon, huh?

I experience a lurch of vertigo as all of the above, which I had forgotten, comes crashing back to me.  I should have planned for this.  Of course she'd remember; the strongest bond two heterosexual women can form is that of being pregnant at the same time.  I have a deer-in-the-headlights moment as I try to think of a plausible way out of this situation and come up with nothing.  Crap.  What due date did I make up?  I guess:

June?

She looks me up and down and says dubiously:

Really?

I cannot resist trying to read her eyes to see if she thinks I look like I am more or less than six months pregnant.  I am afraid it is more.  Or maybe she's doing some math and figuring out that my pregnancy is lasting an unnatural amount of time...because as I am thinking this I realize my initial calculation may be off.  Did that sandwich conversation occur on a warm night in fall or a cool night in summer?  Am I pregnant with a rhinoceros?  What's wrong with those crazy Americans?  Did you know they actually bathe and go outside less than a month after giving birth?  I feel the tendrils of panic creeping around me, so I blurt out:

Yep!  Okay, bye!

Safely at home, I have Peter, the tiny delicious mangoes, and barbecued fish to comfort me.  We concoct a plan (Peter and I, that is, the fish has no feasible suggestions).  When next I see Fruit Mamma I will pretend that I thought she was asking me about when I was next going home to America.   For some reason I find this mistake much less embarrassing than the actual mistake I made.  I guess I'd rather have her think I mistook "go home and eat tacos" for "give birth."  It's believable.  After all, I did mistake "to go" for "baby."

Sigh.  I think I'll be ordering that Rosetta Stone software on payday.

The Odd Couple

Peter and I are watching TV.  Except, as usual, we're not so much watching it as sitting in front of it ignoring it and talking.  We are watching an episode of Mythbusters about the 5 second rule.

 Peter: What's the 5 second rule?
Me: That you can eat something off the floor if it's been there less than 5 seconds.
Peter: I would never do that.
Me: I used to believe in that.
Peter: Why'd you stop?
Me: I stopped right around the time I became responsible for cleaning my own floors.  Would you eat off your grandma's floor?  She's really clean.
Peter: She is, but I wouldn't eat off her floor, because she's crazy.  She does mop twice a day, though.
Me: Really?
Peter: Yeah, everyone on that side of the family does.  They're a little anal.  My grandfather used to yell at me for watching TV and reading the newspaper at the same time.
Me: Why?
Peter: He said it was a waste of electricity.  Also he wouldn't ever let me sit on the bed with my pants on.
Me: Pardon?
Peter: He said the only thing that should go on the bed is your body in pajamas.  Your street clothes are dirty.  He also didn't let me put my school bag on the bed.  Or any food.
Me: Is that why everyone takes their pants off whenever they go to your grandparents' house?
Peter: Yeah.  Anal.  I never told you before, but it kind of bothers me, too.
Me: You told me before.
Peter: I did?
Me: Remember when I was packing to go to America and I put my suitcase on the bed?
Peter: It had been in storage for a year!
Me: I dusted it!  You're turning into your grandfather.
Peter: Maybe.
Me: Wait a few more years, then you'll start turning into your father.
Peter: What's wrong with that?
Me: Nothing, but I'm turning into my mother.
Peter: So it'd be like your mother was married to my father...
(beat)
Me: Yeah, that wouldn't work at all.
Peter: I think we discovered where divorce comes from.

Peter's family are lovely people.  They have a quirk or two, like the rest of us.  Pants are generally removed only when wearing long johns underneath, in the winter, which is not (too) unusual here.  My mother and his father are lovely, caring people, but definitely not made for each other!

Panamobama

I lost my internet access for a few days, but I'm back now!  If you're interested, I finished reading The DaVinci Code and wrote a short review on Goodreads, which you can read here.  If you're on Goodreads, or you like reading, you should become my friend.  I want more people to talk about books with me.

Here are some conversations I've had recently.

Me: What is most important to you?
Harmony: My family.  And books.
Me: I knew I liked you.

Me: Why'd she let you answer her phone?
Howard: She was too drunk to answer it.  We had been drinking Pee...peer...beef... no, beer!
Me: When?  This morning?

Judy and I are guessing words, Catchphrase-style.

Judy: I don't live in a house, I live in an apart...
Me: Apartment?
Judy: Yes.
Me: Okay, go on.
Judy:  That's it.  The word is "meant."
Me: Do you know what it means?
Judy: I'm supposed to know what it means?
Me: Of course.
Judy: Whatever.  I still got you to say it.

I am showing Harmony pictures of American holidays.

Me: Do you know what day this is?
Harmony: (Mentally translating from Chinese) Thank You Day?
Me: Close.  It's called Thanksgiving.
Harmony: English words too many long.
Me: I agree.  (Showing a picture of a plate of cookies laid out for Santa Claus) Do you know what day this is?
Harmony: There is Cookie Day in America?!
Me: There should be.  I think I like your holidays better.
Harmony: You welcome.

We are looking at a map of the world.

Michael: Where's Panama?
Gene: In the White House.
Abbot: That's Obama, genius!
Gene: There's two?

Self-Esteem FAIL

Sheri: I'm going to go to high school in California.
Me: Which city?
Shari: Sack...er...Sack...
Me: Sacramento?
Shari: Yes!
Me: Do you know the name of your high school?
Shari: Loser High School.
Me: Say what?
Shari: Loser High School.
Me: Umm...
Shari: You know, it's spelled L-U-T-H---
Me: Oh!  Luther High School!

Busted

About a week ago I had a Who's on First-style discussion with Saul, whose job it is to help me with class-related issues.  You can read the original conversation here.

Saul: Oh hey, Christense, I found out that you probably do need a specific textbook for that IELTS class.
Me: Great, what is the name of the textbook?
Saul: Sorry, I don't know.
Me: How can I buy the textbook if I don't know the name?
Saul: Yeah.  I'll try to find out for you.
Me: The class manager at the IELTS center could probably tell you.
Saul: Yeah, I should go back and ask him again.
Me: I happened to be at the IELTS center this morning.  I talked to the class manager myself, and he said there is no textbook for that class.
Saul: Oh.  Really?
Me: Yes.  So you don't need to bother talking to him "again."
Saul: (Sincere) Great.  Let me know if there's anything else I can help you with.
Me:  I sure will.

The Uniforms Would be More Interesting

Emmy: Your student Harmony is going to have an interview to get in to a private high school in Florida.
Me: Great!
Emmy: If she doesn't get in, her family says she will have to go to the anime.
Me: Anime?
Emmy: Yes, go to the...anime?
Me: Enemy?
Emmy: Take part in the anime...anime...you know, where they make the soldiers?
Me: Oh, the ARMY!

My Chinese is Getting Better...Great

To be fair to the Chinese, this is not an insult in China.  Not all the time, anyway.  This conversation took place in Chinese, except my first thank you.  He caught me off guard.

Punk Sitting on the Curb Drinking a Bag of Milk: Hey, look at that fat foreigner.
Me: Thank you.  Xie xie.
Punk: Dude!  She speaks Chinese!

A Little too Progressive

12-year-old Judy and I are playing Catchphrase with words from a list that I made.  Note that a lot of teachers in China begin class by saying, "Are you ready?"

The word is "ready."
Me: Before class, the teacher will ask the students are you...?
Judy: Are you students?
Me: Probably not a bad thing to ask, but no.
Judy: Are you female?
Me: What about the boys?
Judy: Oh yeah.

Later, the word is "alive."

Me: What's the difference between a plant and this desk?
Judy: Plants are green.
Me: What if the desk were green?
Judy: It would be ugly.
Me: What's the difference between this desk and an animal?
Judy: The animal is more interesting.
Me: Ok.  Animals can run, play, eat and poop because they are...?
Judy: World citizens.
Me: What are they teaching you in school?
Judy: I don't know.  Our desks are brown.

Refrigerator Physics

Two days ago I scrubbed the heck out of my refrigerator.  For those of you who don't know, The Heck is a fungus that lives in the refrigerators of lazy people.  You've probably heard of it, every so often somewhere in the world someone opens a refrigerator and says, "What?  The Heck is in here!" and someone else says, "Get The Heck out of my fridge!"  If that's not ringing a bell for you, you may be asking yourself "What The Heck is she talking about?"  You'll just have to take my word for it.

So I scrubbed the refrigerator within an inch of it's life (In An Inch Of Its Life is the best cleaner available for getting The Heck out of your fridge) and now it's all pearly and shiny.  However, because I have a memory like a---what's that animal?  Well, like something---I forgot all about it until I opened the fridge tonight.  I don't get in the fridge often because all that's in there is an iffy ear of corn, a package of bacon and a pitcher of ice water.  So it was nice to surprise myself with cleanliness.  It beats the heck out of a dirty fridge.

Seriously.  Surprise is very toxic to The Heck. Ta ta!

Who's on Question 24?

Harmony and I are working through a list of conversation questions about personality.  Harmony, along with other students who are beginners at English, has a habit of saying "no" when she means "I don't understand the question."

Me (reading question 24): Is there any part of your personality that you would like to change?
Harmony: No.
Me: No?
Harmony:Yes.
Me: The answer is yes?
Harmony: No.
Me: You mean no.
Harmony: Yes.
Me: No, you don't understand the question or the answer to the question is no?
Harmony: No question.
Me: The question I just asked?  Or question 24?
Harmony: Um...
Me (pointing to question 24): You understand this?
Harmony: Yes.
Me: And the answer is no.
Harmony: Yes.
Me: Okay, I think we got it.  Next question.

We've got Baseball and Apple Pie, too

Party Animal and I are looking at a map of the US, locating famous landmarks.

Party Animal: Where is the free woman?
Me: Pardon?
Party Animal: (poses)
Me: Oh, you mean the Statue of Liberty!
Party Animal: Yeah, the free woman.  It's famous in America.
Me: So they say.

That's Why They Have Stripes

Gene: So, all the information for each part should be displayed on a tiger?
Me: Huh?
Gene: Oops, I meant on a tag.

A Moment of Panic

A popular method of practicing English in China is to choose famous speeches or monologues from movies and memorize them.  Neil and I are looking at a map of the US, choosing destinations for his trip to the US this summer.

Neil: Oh look, Texas.  They lynch Negroes in Texas.
Me: What?!?
Neil: It's from the movie, The Great Debaters.
Me: Sweetie, I gotta explain something to you...

Here's something lighter.  Candy and I are looking at the map of the US, preparing for her to go to high school in Tampa, Florida next year.

Me: Here's Tampa.  Here's LA, Washington DC and New York.  I come from here, Portland.  That's the best city.  Here's Forks, where vampires come from.
Harmony: Where's Denmark?
Me: Denmark?
Harmony: Wait, never mind, that's in Europe.

Lost in Translation

One of Saul's jobs is to help me with questions I have about my classes or my schedule.  This conversation is not to make Saul look stupid (he's not) but to demonstrate why things take longer when we're not all speaking our native language.  Sometimes nobody says anything wrong but things still don't get across exactly right.  In retelling this I have improved his grammar for clarity.  Also, even if someone speaks to me in bad grammar I tend to remember it in correct grammar.

Me: Last Friday a girl called me and wanted to give me my new class schedule.  I had to leave before I met her because I apparently got some bad Moo Shoo Pork.  I forgot her name.  Do you know who that might have been?
Saul: I think they're making the schedule now.  I'll print it out and give it to you when it's done, don't worry.
Me: She said it was done.  She wanted to give it to me right then.
Saul: Oh really?  Let's go see.
yadda yadda yadda and...
Saul: Here you go.
Me: What's this class?
Saul: It's an IELTS (English test) class.
Me: I've never taught one of those before.  Does it have a textbook?
Saul: Probably.
Me: A textbook assigned for the class?
Saul: I think so.
Me: Do I teach from the textbook? (sometimes I don't.)
Saul: I think you can.
Me: But am I required to?  Do I have to, or I can?
Saul: You have to.  Probably.
Me: So what's the textbook?
Saul: I don't know.
Me: Could you find out for me?
Saul: If you have a minute we can go down to the bookstore downstairs and find out now.
Me: Okay.
In the bookstore...
Saul: All the books on this shelf are IELTS books.
Me: Which one is for my class?
Saul: Any of these would work for your class.
Me: I'm choosing the textbook?
Saul: You could use any one of these to prepare for your class.
Me: Of course, but does the class have a textbook assigned to it?
Saul: Oh, sure.  Probably.  Almost certainly.
Me: And I need to use that textbook.
Saul: Yeah, you'll need to buy that textbook.
Me: So which one is that?
Saul: I don't know, I'm sorry.
Me: Could you find out for me?
Saul: I have a class starting in ten minutes.
Me: I don't mean right now, maybe in the next week?
Saul: Probably I can do that.
Me: Just get me the name of it, is all.  The name of the textbook.
Saul: Sure.
Me: So I can buy it.
Saul: Sure.
Me: And use it.
Saul: Okay.
Me: Okay. (I go to leave the bookstore)
Saul: So you don't want any of these books here?
Me: Nope, I'm solid.

What's Another Word for Thesaurus?

In class we had been studying about satellite repair stations, repair stations that generally function independently but are managed by a main repair station.  The two are separate entities but rely on one another.

Stella: What's a thesaurus?
Me: If we look up a word in a thesaurus it tells us other words with similar meanings.
Abbot: So it's a dictionary.
Me: Close.  A dictionary tells us the meaning, a thesaurus tells us other words with the same meaning.
Abbot: So it's a satellite dictionary.

Jackie Chan or Judge Lance Ito?

Gabriel: Hey, Lucy?  I have a question about American culture.
Me: Okay, go ahead.
Gabriel: Do you know Monica, from Friends?
Me: Not all Americans are like that.
Gabriel: What?
Me: Never mind.  Go on.
Gabriel: You know that girl on Desperate Housewives?
Me: Teri Hatcher?
Gabriel: I don't know her name.  Is that the same actress as Monica?
Me: No.
Gabriel: Are you sure?
Me: 100% sure. (FYI: I very rarely give a 100%) Monica's name is Courtney Cox.  She has a daughter named Coco.
Gabriel:  Are you sure?  Those two women look like the same woman.
Me: Sometimes western people have trouble telling Asian people apart.
Gabriel: (Looks around at his classmates, then looks at me with skepticism) A baby named Coco?
Me: Maybe you should Google it.
Gabriel: Google hates China.
Me: I'm going to go get a coke.

Serenity now, insanity later: another visit from the chinese repairman

I've had another visit from the Chinese repairman.  Now that we live in the more-developed north standards for repairmen have gone up a bit.  In the south they'd arrive without tools and restate the problem.

"See right here, that pipe's leaking?  That's the problem."
"Yes I know, that why I called you."

They would occasionally attempt to use things lying around the house, like coat hangers or kitchen utensils to conduct their repairs.  I once took a butter knife out of a repairman's hand and replaced it with the screwdriver from my pocket knife.  They'd depart for an hour or six to get tools, and never clean up after themselves.  I've told this story ad nauseum, but it's only because it was one of my top five worst moments in China.  A repairman had just finished unclogging my bathroom sink, in which process he had scattered soggy black schmutz all over the bathroom floor.  He looked around himself and said, "Wow, this is gross.  You should clean that up," and left.  It truly was a blessing he came when my students were there, because I'm pretty sure their presence was the only thing that kept me from loosing my cool.  A year before I would have demanded he clean it up, but by then I knew enough to know that in that exchange I'd come off looking like the jerk.

Today I called him because our kitchen and bathroom floors were covered with water.  The bathroom was no surprise, that pipe has been leaking for awhile.  When it first started dripping we'd been planning to move out soon, so we didn't want to buy the new pipe fixture just the new tenant.  The drainpipe for the kitchen sink just fell off last week, but Peter and I keep forgetting and using it anyway, hence the kitchen puddle.

Our current repairman comes with tools on the first trip.  He doesn't bother with restating the problem to us.  He also doesn't bother with spare parts, except for a handful of cheap washers and a few dozen reels of plumber's tape.  (If you don't know, plumber's tape is the duct tape of plumbing.  A few layers of it can seal a pipe connection.  It is not intended to be used in such quantities as to, oh, say, change the gauge of a pipe.  I have come to detest plumber's tape.)  This trip Peter did persuade him to go buy the part we needed.  That was a first, as he's always before asked us to do it ourselves, or at least go with him.

When I say "us" I really mean "we."  For some reason whenever the repairman comes I am always here alone and Peter is translating via cell phone.  I think it's because Peter's a very laid back person.  Left to his own devices he wouldn't call a repairman unless the apartment was actually underwater.  He did rush home to meet the repairman last time, though, when the hose to the washing machine exploded and drenched me with water.  I think Peter came home that time because he was afraid the repairman's life was in jeopardy.

Now the repairman is gone.  In the bathroom is a small heap of discarded plumber's tape, and a fresh wad, about a quarter of an inch thick, is wrapped around our brand-new pipe fixture.  Actually, upon inspection I have found nearly every plumbing connection in the house is heavily wrapped in plumber's tape.  Except the kitchen sink drainpipe, of course.  That's still held on with a piece of rusty wire.  I decided not to make a fuss, though.  As with the washing machine hose, I'll just wait until it fails completely and then ask, "Now how is this really supposed to be done?"  Serenity now.

To speak fairly, or at least attempt to do so, I should mention that culture influences expectations of repairmen, as it does everything else.  No one in China (besides foreigners) expects repairmen to clean up after themselves.  Repairmen generally don't like to go buy parts for you because they don't want to be accused of ripping you off (and such accusations do happen).  In the US the owner of a rental property is required to maintain the property in livable condition, but there is no such law here.  Unless you can talk your landlord into it (and you can't) you'd better pay for repairs out of your own pocket.  Chinese people know that going in.  It's part of the deal.  A building like ours, that keeps a repairman on staff and only charges for parts, is considered a luxury.  Most Chinese tie a rag around a leaky pipe, put a bucket under it, and call it good.  However, when you do have to pay for one, Chinese repairmen are very reasonably priced, often come the same day they are called, and their repairs are usually effective, if not standard.

I'll let you know how the sink wire holds up.

It'd be better to just get a leash

Earlier in this lesson I taught the idiom, "hold on to your hats."

Me: Okay, turn to page 22.
Gabriel: Wow, we're already on page 22?
Me: Yeah, we're making good progress.
Abbot: Yeah, what was that expression you taught us?  Hold on to your cats!

But where would I put the lotion?

I am playing a board game I invented with my student Judy, who is fantastically twelve years old.  I love her and fear her.  

Question in the game: What would you do if you were a bug?
Judy: I would eat potstickers.
Me: Erm, okay.  Pork or beef?  What kind meat is in a bug's potsticker? 
Judy: People meat.

Kind of sounds like Klingon

I am asking Peter questions from an online dyslexia test.  He has to rate the statements from 1 to 5.

Me: The subject often asks to have statements repeated or explained.
Peter: What does that mean?

Peter and I are walking down the street in Beijing with the sun at our backs making fun of each other (which of course is part of a healthy relationship).  Peter has a genetic trait that is harmless but very, very bizzare. 

Peter: You walk too slow.
Me: You sneeze like a mutant.
Peter: Pardon?
Me: Normal people sneeze like "achoo."  You sneeze like "ka-plah," like you're spitting out sour milk.
Peter: Fine, you want to see me sneeze?
Peter stops walking and turns around to face the bright afternoon sun.  Nothing happens for about ten seconds.  Then his face starts to change, until suddenly...
Peter: Ka-PLAH!
Me: See, I told you.  Mutant.
Peter: I'm still faster than you.

On Empty

Peter and I are in bed eating Chinese food (here just called food) and watching Due Date.  It is very funny, and at least 50% funnier to us because Iron Man's name is Peter. (I can't remember Iron Man's real name, but does it matter?)

Movie Peter: We're going to Mexico?!  Why are we going to Mexico?
Movie Ethan: Mexico?  Dude, I thought it was Texaco!  We're low on gas!
My Peter: I knew I wasn't the only one to make that mistake!

Engage!

Peter comes home to find me watching TNG.

Peter: Oh, you're watching Traveling the Stars.
Me: In English we call it Star Trek.  I always used to watch this with my parents when I was a kid.  Do Chinese people watch this?
Peter:  Yes.
Me: Really?
Peter: Sure.
Me: Interesting.  I can't picture Chinese people watching Star Trek.
Peter: Okay, I watched it.
Me: Oh, honey!
Peter: Yeah, I loved this.  (Holding up a Vulcan "Live long and prosper" salute)  Hola!

Around the China in 24 Hours

Peter and I had to go to an appointment in Beijing regarding his green card.  We'd planned to stay a couple days, but the rice noodle acquisition called us home.  We left Xi'an on the overnight train to Beijing at 7pm and returned by plane (thank you frequent flier miles) the following day at 9pm.  Here are some, er, memorable moments from our trip.

Me: My feet look fat in these wool socks.
Peter: Good.  That means they match the rest of you.
Me: I beg your pardon?  Would you care to rephrase that?
Peter: I like Santa Claus.
Me: Damn right you do.

Peter returns from the restroom on the train, looking sheepish.

Me: What's wrong?
Peter: I've been on too many airplanes.  I am airplaneized.
Me: Why?
Peter: I went potty.  I flushed the toilet.  I covered my ears.  Then I realized I wasn't on a plane, and it wasn't going to make that horrible sound like you're going to be sucked out of the airplane. 

I am spelling the name of a restaurant for Peter so he can call 411 and look up the address.  The restaurant is called (coincidentally) Peter's Tex-Mex.

Me: It's like your name, followed by an apostrophe s.
Peter: Say what?
Me: You know, P-E-T-E-R-apostrophe-S. 
Peter: What? A-plastic-free-S?
Me: No, you know, apostrophe, a comma in the air, A-P-O-S-T----
Peter: Maybe we should have Thai.  T-H-A-I.
Me: I bet Peter's serves meatloaf.
Peter: A comma in the air?  Got it.

2+2=Lucy

Peter: You're not bringing a bag, are you?  We're only going for one night!
Me: Just a small bag.
Peter: Backpack?
Me: Carry-on size.  I have to carry our winter coats.
Peter: We can wear them on the train.
Me: I am not sleeping on the train all night in a down overcoat.
Peter: Why not?  It's like a sleeping bag.
Me: Exactly.
Peter: Who will be carrying this alleged bag?
Me: You.  You're the man.
Peter: Americans are too difficult.  Like math.

Infidelity

Me: What would you think if someone else fell in love with me?
Peter: I'd be mad.
Me: At me?
Peter: No.  You can't help it if someone else falls for you.
Me: Mad at him?  Or her?
Peter: No.  I'd be mad at your parents.
Me: Why?
Peter: Because they gave you a good face.
Me: Aww!
Peter: Yeah.  If you weren't hot someone might fall for you after talking to you for, like, a few hours.
Me: Um...
Peter: Otherwise you wouldn't have a chance, unless you were hot.
Me: You shoulda quit while you were ahead.

Snake Time!

Party Animal and I are playing MASH, that staple of junior high girls throughout the 80s.  We are filling in what pets he may have in the future.  

Me: How about a tiger?
Party Animal: Yeah, a tiger is good.  (spelling) T-A-T-E-R.  Wait, is that right?
Me: No.  It's T-I-G-E-R.
Party Animal: Okay.  How about a snake?  S-N-A-C-K.  Is that right?
Me: Almost.  Are you hungry, by any chance?
Party Animal: Not really.  Can this game tell me what I'll have for dinner?

you've fallen victim to another one of my classic pranks

Textbook: The hikers were concerned about bringing enough water.
Jesse: Hiker?  Like on the internet?
Me: No, that's a hacker.
Textbook: Lisa will be at my Bon Voyage party.
Jesse: What does bon voyage mean?
Me:  It's French for have a good trip.  We sometimes use phrases from other languages to make our English sound more sophisticated and exotic.
Jesse: Like bazinga?
Me: Yes.  Just like that.

Me: Peter, we have a problem.
Peter: What?
Me: What was your major in college?
Peter: Business English.
Me: And what do I do for a living now?
Peter: Teach English.
Me: And what was my major in college?
Peter: Psychology.
Me: And what is your primary job function?
Peter: Listening to my boss's wife complain about how much money her husband spends on his mistress and her two children. 
Me: Yeah, I don't want your job.
Peter: All I have to do is smile and nod.
Me: I do a lot of that too.

By the way, have you ever thought how weird it is that we say on Thursdays in January at 9:00?  It's harder to explain than Dick as a nickname for Richard.

What I Did Today

I taught a class of impressionable high school youths today.  One of the things I like to do in class is a bit on English names.  It's really just an elaborate way to exorcise one of my pet peeves: Chinese students with inappropriate English names.  Perhaps you think that is narrow-minded, but three years of students named Eads, Essex, Tree, Lose, Vido and Axue have taken their toll.  I start by asking them, "If I told you my Chinese name was tang cu li ji (sweet and sour pork) what would you think of my knowledge of Chinese language and culture?"  I then go on to explain the advantages of having a culturally-appropriate name that is correctly balanced between unique and recognizable, and gently end with something like, "I'm not picking on you, but you should consider that I may be the only person who will come out and tell you if your name is ridiculous."  I go on to explain why Blue, Pizza, Fly and Jun (all names of actual past students) are not suitable names, but Scarlet, Candy, Faye and June are names.  I also give them the general warning that there are more Michaels, Jacks, and Lilys in China than there are in America, and they may want to consider something more unique.

From there I bring out my book 25,000 Baby Names (which is also named inappropriately because the names it contains are for people, not just babies) and look up the meanings of the English names they may have.  It's fun, and it's also great to be able to say, "25,000 names, but Lose is not in here."  Most of them had pretty good names already.  Suzie decided to change to Sybil, Claudia (which means lame, as it turns out) switched to Sydney.  Don't think I am stuck up, though.  I didn't say anything to Davis about his name even though it's usually a family name.  Albee is a name I've only heard in China, but I like it.  It's not in my book, but I usually tell students it's a variant of Alberta.  However, despite my best efforts Moose and Water Cow did not want to change their names.  I think that Moose didn't really know enough English to understand me, but Water Cow was with me.  I showed him that it was not in the name book and asked him if he wanted to change it and he said, "No.  I love it."  Okay then.  Water Cow it is.

As a parting shot at names, the only thing harder than convincing someone like Water Cow to change his name is explaining why Dick is short for Richard and Peggy is short for Margaret.

Later in class we played a game, "What Did I do Yesterday?"  I put five topics on the board: Where did they go, what did they see, what did they ask, what did they do, and what did they eat?  I then choose two or three students and send them outside.  The rest of the class and I decide what the students outside did yesterday.  When we're finished I bring the students back in and they have to ask yes or no questions to determine what they did yesterday.  It's usually pretty fun.  The part they like the most, though, is when I go outside and they decide what I did.  Apparently yesterday I went to Starbucks, saw a gay couple, asked where they were from, watched them kiss goodbye, and then ate some cake. 

Then Peter and I went to dinner at his aunt's house.  She's his mother's eldest sister, and she grew up during the cultural revolution.  She told us that when she was a girl her English teacher came to school, taught them to say, "Long live Chairman Mao" and then went on vacation for the rest of the year.

So there's a typical day!

Some Gems I've Been Saving

I discreetly make a note in my phone when one of my students says something that I wish to share with you.  Recently I've built up a store of them.  So here they are, for your Monday morning reading.

Me: My secret dream job is to be a writer.
Sheldon: Mine's to be a reader.
Me: Why?
Sheldon: Because it's easier than being a writer.

Trivia Question: What adjective describes a person who comes from Ireland?
Blue Team: Irelish?

This one's appeared on Facebook but I repost here because it's one of my all-time favorites.

Taxi Driver: Where come from?
Me: America.
Taxi Driver: Ah!  The USB!
Me: Sort of.
Taxi Driver: What?
Me: I love China.

From a lesson about the difference between present progressive (I am doing something) and the simple present (I do something).

Textbook: What do you think of fast food? (answer with the verb "love")
Bradley: I am loving it.
Me: No, for that one we'd say "I love it."
Bradley: But I thought I'd heard it that way before.
Me: That's McDonald's slogan, but it's not good grammar.
Bradley: Wow.  Fast food is bad for us in more ways than one.

Conversation Question: Have you ever lied about your age?
Neil (age 17): That's dumb.  Why would I lie about my age?
Me: I don't know, maybe to impress a girl?
Neil: What am I supposed to do, tell her I'm 50?  How will that impress her?
Me: Moving on...

Textbook: Take a breath and hold it for 5 seconds.
Bradley (reading): Take a breast and hold it for 5 seconds.

Earlier in this lesson we'd had the vocabulary word "stiletto heels" as part of a fashion discussion.  Now I'm showing wedding pictures and explaining what makes a Champagne flute different from other glasses.

Me: See this tall, thin part here?  It's called a flute.
Jessie: So it's like a stiletto glass.
Me: I never would have thought of it like that, but yes.

Me: When apartments for rent are advertised we describe them like this, "Three bedroom, one bathroom."
Neil: Are there any three bathroom, one bedroom?
Me: Not to my knowledge.
(The homework assignment for this class was to write a letter to an imaginary friend describing an imaginary apartment he'd just rented.  Neil wrote about an apartment with 100 bedrooms and 500 bathrooms.  The only drawback with his new place was that it was so small, and he expected he'd have to move again in a few years to find a bigger place.)

Found in Bradley's free writing assignment: Select ultraviolet rays are beneficial.
Me: Do you mean to say that the sun is good for us?
Bradley: Yes!

Neil: What kind of practice can I do to make myself speak English faster?
Me:  It's not so important to go fast.  Trying to speak faster can cause you to make more mistakes.  Just go at a pace that feels comfortable.  With more practice you'll get faster naturally.
Neil: But I know sometimes Americans speak really fast.
Me: Yeah, people on TV sometimes talk quickly.  If we are excited about something, we'll talk more quickly.
Neil: When my friend was in America he had a system to learn to understand fast English.  His neighbors were a couple that fought a lot, so whenever they started yelling he snuck outside and hid under their window to get some listening practice.
Me: Did it work?
Neil: Yeah.  He said they were talking really fast and he could hear very well because they were screaming so loud.
(I plan to start a marriage seminar based solely on this principle.  Rather than "Is that what Jesus would say?" it will be "Is that the kind of English you want the exchange student in the bushes to learn from you?")

Textbook: Which of these methods do you use to relax when you are stressed?  Talking to a friend, pampering yourself with a massage or hot bath, meditation, exercise.
Bradley: I like pampering myself.
Me: Interesting.  How do you pamper yourself?
Bradley: I don't have a bathtub and I don't like massage, so usually I just get a case of beer.
Me: To share with your friends?
Bradley: Sometimes.

And finally, a lost gem from the immortal Sheldon.  (I don't think I've posted this before.)  To clarify, sometimes the English word hamburger is mistakenly translated into Chinese to mean sandwich.


Sheldon: How do I order food in a restaurant in America?
Me: Read the menu, choose something you'd like and tell the waitress.
Sheldon: What if there's no pictures, or I don't know what the dishes are?
Me: Just tell the waitress what kind of food you're interested in eating.  She'll tell you what they have.
Sheldon: What if I want a hamburger?
Me: Say, "I want a hamburger."
Sheldon: But how will they know what kind of hamburger?  How will they know if I want a beef hamburger or a chicken hamburger or a pork hamburger--
Me: No, there's no such thing.  Hamburger always means it's made from ground beef.  If it's chicken we call it a chickenburger.  If it's fish we call it a fishburger.
Sheldon: So if it's pork we call it a porkburger?
Me: We don't have porkburgers in America.
Sheldon: We have them in Xi'an!
Me: That would be better described as a pulled pork sandwich.
Sheldon: So if it's beef it's called a beefburger?
Me: No, it's called a hamburger if it's made of beef.
Sheldon: Why?  And what do you call a hamburger made of ham?
Me: There is no ham-hamburger.
Sheldon: Then where did the word come from?
Me: Well, the dish we know today as the hamburger was named for the city of Hamburg, Germany---
Sheldon: Never mind, I'm over it.

Armchair Survivalists

In the horror movie, Dead End, the father and daughter have just gotten out of the car and decided to continue on foot and cut through the woods.

Movie Daughter: I don't think this is a good idea.
Movie Father: Remember what you said!  Every time we stop someone dies.  We should keep moving.
Me: You aren't dying because you're stopping, you're dying because---
Peter (in unison): ---you're getting out of the car!
Me: We could totally survive a horror movie.
Peter: Totally.

On Reading

I have just joined Goodreads and am entering books on my to-read list.

Peter: You should do something more useful with your time.
Me: Reading is useful.
Peter: Only if you read something besides books with dragons on the cover.
Me: I do!  Look at my list.  Do you think a book called Little Women is about dragons?
Peter: Um, do you know anything about women?
Me: Shut up!

Spelunking

Peter and I are watching The Descent and discussing how important it is for married couples to have hobbies in common. We are considering spelunking (cave climbing) with an option on the homicidal proto-humans.

Me: Would you like to try spelunking someday?
Peter: No. I can get the same feeling of panic a lot easier by putting a plastic bag over my head. See, they're eating apples for lunch. Why? (Peter hates apples.)
Me: See how they're all thin because they climb into caves and eat apples, while we're fat because we climb into bed and eat marshmallows while watching movies?
Peter: So you're saying you want to go spelunking?
Me: If I have to choose between death by being eaten or death by eating, I'll take death by eating. Pass me a marshmallow.

Corleone's China Kitchen

It is 1:00am. Peter and I are sitting in a barbecue restaurant eating grilled zucchini and discussing our latest scheme, to open a noodle shop in Xi'an and use the proceeds to return to the US and open a number of very successful restaurants. We are discussing the risks involved in this plan, and which US cities would be best to settle in.

Peter: What if the mafia comes after us?
Me: Just what sort of restaurant are you planning?
Peter: Does it matter? What if they bother us?
Me: The mafia will leave us alone if we leave them alone. That kind of thing doesn't happen to us.
Peter: Our car got stolen.
Me: That wasn't the mafia. That was drug addicts.
Peter: What if they come up to us on the street with a gun and ask for money?
Me: A mugging? That's not the mafia either. That's also the drug addicts.
Peter: Then what does the mafia do?
Me: Loan money at really high interest rates and pressure us to pay it back quickly.
Peter: Like our credit cards?
Me: Worse.
Peter: Wow. Is the mafia in Dallas?
Me: I don't know. Most of what I know about the mafia comes from movies. I've never heard of a Dallas mafia.
Peter: Why wouldn't the mafia be in Dallas?
Me: I don't know, maybe they don't like rodeo?
Peter: Well, if we do get involved with the mafia, what should we do?
Me: Look baby, you worry about opening the noodle shop, raising the money, relocating us to the US and opening a restaurant there. Let me worry about holding off the mobsters.
Peter: Deal.

How to Make Cocoa: A DIY Housekeeping Intervention

1. Wake up.
2. Blow nose for 30 minutes.
3. Decide on a cup of hot cocoa.
4. There is only one microwave safe mug in the apartment. It's location, precisely speaking, is "not here."
5. Move to plan B.
6. Dig electric kettle out of bottomless void under the sink.
7. Dig electric kettle base out of bottomless void under sink. Yank on cord until it comes free, but do not speculate on what it could have been stuck on.
8. Find cleanish rag and wash dust off electric kettle. Fill with water.
9. Locate husband's overpriced Starbucks travel mug.
10. Dig down to the bottom of the dish pile and locate lid to said mug. Wash with cleanish rag.
11. Stare at kettle until the realization sets in that it will work better plugged in.
12. Search for cocoa. While searching formulate plan for untimely fate of husband, should he have drank (drunk?) it all.
13. Locate cocoa. Speculate about whether it is still safe to drink if it looks like that.
14. Mix water and cocoa in mug. Stir with butter knife that looks mostly clean.
15. Return to bed. Blow nose for 30 minutes. Go back to sleep. Wake up when cocoa is cold.

Gesundheit

I don't know if I've been paying more attention or if my students have been extra-funny, but recently I've had a lot of funny stuff to post to Facebook. I've gotten more than one request to do something more with that stuff than just post it on Facebook. I'd decided to make a new blog for that purpose, but I already had this one, and it was easier to just update the template. I also like composing here a LOT better, because the touchpad on my mouse is a little freaky and sometimes I'll be halfway through composing a note on Facebook when I bump the touchpad the wrong way and lose the whole thing. Sometimes I lose the whole thing anyway, if my connection to the internet gets interrupted. (As an aside, if Facebook really wants to become the Wal-Mart of the internet they need to develop that Notes feature a little more.)

Anyway, I plan on posting my China observations here, as well as anything else that happens to wander through my mind. These will also post to Facebook, so I should be able to keep everyone in the loop.

So, I thought I'd start off my series of China Excerpts with an oldie but a goodie. This is a conversation Peter and I had when we were still dating.

Peter: (sneezes)
Me: Gesundheit.
Peter: What?
Me: It's German. It's a wish for good health.
Peter: Why are you speaking German?
Me: I don't know. We've borrowed that one. In English we say "Bless you."
Peter: Why?
Me: I've heard a couple different stories of why. Most of them are related to your soul or evil spirits. Saying "bless you" keeps the bad stuff out and the good stuff in when you sneeze.
Peter: Weird.
Me: You don't have anything like that in Chinese? Nothing superstitious about sneezing?
Peter: No.
Me: Nothing from the olden days? Traditional? What does your grandma say when you sneeze?
Peter: "See, you're getting a cold. I told you to wear a jacket."

PETER IS COMING!

On Sunday Peter, my superstar fiance, went to the US consulate in Guangzhou and got approved for a visa to the US! We've been preparing documents and practicing interview questions for months--MONTHS!--and in the end all they did was ask him a couple questions and look at a picture or two. It was great because while he was there he said he saw a lot of people receiving white papers, which are refusals. We had read before that they have already basically decided if they will give you a visa before the interview. Yay!

So, what next?

Well, he has to wait in Guangzhou 3 to 5 days for the paperwork to be finished. There is a disclaimer on his paperwork that they could change their minds, but it's not likely...only if they found some problem with his paperwork. He's worried about it, mainly because we've been worrying about his visa for over a year, and it's a hard habit to break. Once he has his visa in hand he's going to buy a giant suitcase (hard to find in China, but available in Guangzhou) and go back to Hainan.

There's a bit of an availability problem with booking his plane ticket, so rather than arriving November 24, like we had planned, he won't be here until December 10. I was pretty disappointed that he won't be here for Thanksgiving, but the point is he's coming. His dad is going to come down and visit him, and this will give them some more time to hang out.

The wedding will be January 10, 2009 at 1pm. I'll be sending out invitations soon, so this is the last chance, send me your address if you haven't already! Pray that there's no more complications and he can just be here soon!

Interview Countdown

Peter's interview is Monday, November 10 at 7:15 Chinese time, which is about 3pm Sunday afternoon.

Monkey Business

So, on Tuesday, I feel positive about Peter's visa. When I call him, however, as I do every night, all he wants to talk about is plans B and C, our backup plans in case his visa is denied or delayed. ("B" stands for "Plan Bad" and "C" stands for "Plan Cruel and Unusual.") At 1:00 am I am lying awake thinking, "What are we going to DO?!"

In the morning on Wednesday, all is bleak. I can neither confirm nor deny the consumption of too much ice cream that afternoon. I call him that night and he's all cheerful. I, determined to be grumpy, deflect as much as possible his attempts to make me laugh. Finally I ask, "Why are you so happy?"

"I had a dream."

"What did you dream about?"

He dreamed he got his visa. His sense of the thing when he woke up was not that he was guaranteed to get a visa, but that God wanted Peter to know that He was in control, and everything would be ok one way or another.

My response to this loving message: "Why didn't you tell me that sooner?!"

So today I feel much better. God is going to take care of us. In spite of interludes of doubt, I just have had this overriding feeling that he's going to get the visa on Sunday. I don't know if that's wishful thinking, or my own message from God. So, Peter is not sure he's going to get it, but he is sure that God is in control. I also know God is in control, but I have this difficult-to-squelch positivity that this is going to be the one part of the process that goes smoothly. We're due. He dreamed about getting the visa, you know. That's key. Of course, he did dream that they gave it to him printed on a sheet of paper shaped like a monkey. But I think we can let that part go.

The Update

Generally speaking, China is one day ahead of us. It's actually 16 hours (maybe it's 15, daylight savings time really throws me), but basically it's a day. If that's confusing, take a look at the clock on my sidebar. So, I generally use US time when I tell you what Peter's up to. So, if you're a stickler for reality, add a day...for example, his interview on Monday morning, November 10th takes place on the afternoon of Sunday the 9th, US time. People are always complaining how we are behind China, in school performance, economic growth (don't get me started on what the actual truth of that is) but they're even ahead of us in TIME.

So, on Sunday Peter packed up about ten pounds of photos, forms, and paperwork, and got on a bus to take a train that would get on a boat to go to Guangzhou. He left around 4pm, got a sleeper on the train, and woke up in Guangzhou. Sleeper berths in China are not too expensive, and are pretty comfortable. He used to buy seats, but I, the princess, made him take a sleeper last year and he hasn't gone back since. I converted him, and I'm proud of it. A friend of a friend there is loaning him an apartment for the 7-10 days he'll be there. That has been such a blessing because we're saving about 800 RMB on a hotel room, and he doesn't have to sleep on someone's couch.

He got settled in Monday, and on Tuesday afternoon he'll be going to the hospital for his required medical check. I don't know exactly what they'll be checking, but as long as he doesn't have any major diseases he should pass. It takes three days for those results to come back, and then he'll be all set for his interview on Sunday at the US consulate. If (please!) they say yes, he has to wait in Guangzhou for three days for the to issue his visa. Even if they say yes in his interview, they could change their minds during the three day waiting period. That's pretty unlikely, it usually only happens if there's a problem with his information. But we won't really relax until he gets that thing in his hand!

Once he's got the visa, he's free to come to the US whenever he likes. He got out of going back to work for a last week (PTL) but he'll have to return to Haikou, pack up his stuff, say goodbyes, and then he'll travel home to Xi'an. He'll spend about a week there with his family, and then if all goes well he should arrive in the US sometime Thanksgiving week.

So that's the thing. Please keep his interview in your prayers. Our current economic downturn, which has affected so many things, has made getting a visa harder. Hopefully our finances are enough. The other possibilty is that at his interview they will tell him they need more time to review his case. Then he'll have to return to Haikou and wait for them to send him a notice of their decision, which could take up to two months. That's what we really don't want. We've already waited so long. I want him here for the holidays. I just want him here! So please lift us up.

Back

Now that I'm back in the US I can access my blog again! About halfway through my first year in China Blogger was blocked, so I was cut off. I started Facebook instead, and recently wrote a note about drug reps that was criticially acclaimed...well, by one person, who is such a nice person anyways she probably would have told me my entry, "Ner ner ner" was fantastic. However, I've let it go completely to my head, and I've decided I can't let the world go round anymore withouth my insightful, award winning writing.

So, to start things off, I have made a keen and insightful observation about human nature, here working as a super-star receptionist for an OBGYN. Several times a day, I have this dialogue on the phone:

In my best receptionist voice, "Good afternoon, Dr. S's office."

"Hi, I'm a patient of Dr. S."

Pause. No further information is forthcoming. What am I expected to say? Did you call to tell me that? Are you waiting for applause? Is being a patient like having a fast pass at Disnelyland, you get to cut ahead of the huddled masses?

But here's the problem. Lest you think that I am being cynical and judgemental of our patients, let me tell you that I (in a past life when I had health insurance) do the same thing! I don't know why. It's like a compulsion. I call in and say, "Hi, I'm a patient of Dr. BillyBob." And stop. My theory is that deep down inside, no one knows what to say. That is, no one knows what to say in general, but especially when talking to their doctor or someone from a doctor's office. Somehow it's intimidating. So we end up with the fastpass theory of medical care. I just find it amusing.

Super Feet

Pizza Pizzaz!

It's International Labor Day in China, so we have a week off of school. It took me a while to figure out, but with some help from Google I learned that the Labor Movement which led to the creation of International Labor Day started in the US. BUT, the US is one of only 3 countries that don't celebrate International Labor Day on May 1 with the rest of the world. (The other two countries are Canada and South Africa.) I always thought Labor Day in September was fitting since it's right around when you have to go back to school and labor. I'm feeling a bit cheated, since in the US we only get a 3 day weekend, but in China they get seven days off!

Although you can find decent hot dogs in China, buns are hard to come by, and I don't have a grill. So, I decided to have a pizza party. Although it's a seven-day holiday, many students have stayed on campus. I had 22 people in my house last night making pizza! It was a new experience for most, as most Chinese have never made pizza, used an oven, and their only experience with cheese is the plastic cheese that comes on a McBurger or what comes melted on Pizza Hut pizza. They also weren't too sure about pineapple on pizza. However, everyone got into it as soon as I demonstrated. Here's a few pictures, there's more at http://www.flickr.com/photos/stensie

We're supposed to eat this???



This is Tommy. I gave him my camera and made him the photographer, but somehow he managed to be in almost every picture. Tommy works for the English department, and his job is to help me when I'm confused. So he gets to do fun stuff like go downtown with me to get my phone fixed when it's not broken, or wait at the train station with me while my train that was supposed to leave at midnight is delayed until 2am. He deserves a medal, I think!



Like this, guys! My award winning pizza sauce was ketchup with italian seasoning.



Monica was an ace with the ovens.



Pizza was eaten...



And everyone (even the boys!) helped clean up!

Pizza Party Photos

If you are one of my lovely students looking to download pictures from our pizza party, click "photos" below where it says "for my students."

Vivi's a Rockstar

So, Vivi visited in one of my classes a couple weeks ago. She's a student stying biochemistry at our university. She has recently provided me with her next big hit, her cover of Tori Amos' "Silent all These Years." It's not a video, it's only audio, so listen and enjoy!

Lyrics!

If you are one of my lovely students looking for song words to download, please click here:

http://www.fast-files.com/getfile.aspx?file=2099

You can download the document and print them out or save them to your computer.

The Worst Easter Video Ever

So! I know Easter was a week ago, but due to some tecnical difficulties, I just now am posting my cinematic debut. I've had my camera for over a year, now, but I just recently discovered how to make charming little videos. This is at Easter brunch with my co-teachers and some of our students and friends.

Girly Times

Last weekend I went to Shi Yan, about six hours north of Wuhan by train. There I hung out with some lovely ladies. For those of you Northwesterners, Shi Yan is where the Lewises are teaching with their four lovely daughters.

We made cards...

...and washed eachother's hands...

...and generally had fun...

Then, we even had lunch with the boys!

It was a lovely time!

PS: I'll be back in Portland July 1!