Day Four

    O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie!

    Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.

    Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting Light;

    The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.

    For Christ is born of Mary, and gathered all above,

    While mortals sleep, the angels keep their watch of wond’ring love.

    O morning stars, together proclaim the holy birth,

    And praises sing to God the King, and peace to men on earth!

    How silently, how silently, the wondrous Gift is giv’n;

    So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of His Heav’n.

    No ear may hear His coming, but in this world of sin,

    Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.

    Where children pure and happy pray to the blessed Child,

    Where misery cries out to Thee, Son of the mother mild;

    Where charity stands watching and faith holds wide the door,

    The dark night wakes, the glory breaks, and Christmas comes once more.

    O holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to us, we pray;

    Cast out our sin, and enter in, be born in us today.

    We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell;

    Oh, come to us, abide with us, our Lord Emmanuel!

Day Three point five

This is one of my all time favorites.

O come, O come, Emmanuel,

And ransom captive Israel,

That mourns in lonely exile here

Until the Son of God appear.

Refrain

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Wisdom from on high,

Who orderest all things mightily;

To us the path of knowledge show,

And teach us in her ways to go.

Refrain

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free

Thine own from Satan’s tyranny;

From depths of hell Thy people save,

And give them victory over the grave.

Refrain

O come, Thou Day-spring, come and cheer

Our spirits by Thine advent here;

Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,

And death’s dark shadows put to flight.

Refrain

O come, Thou Key of David, come,

And open wide our heavenly home;

Make safe the way that leads on high,

And close the path to misery.

Refrain

O come, O come, great Lord of might,

Who to Thy tribes on Sinai’s height

In ancient times once gave the law

In cloud and majesty and awe.

Refrain

O come, Thou Root of Jesse’s tree,

An ensign of Thy people be;

Before Thee rulers silent fall;

All peoples on Thy mercy call.

Refrain

O come, Desire of nations, bind

In one the hearts of all mankind;

Bid Thou our sad divisions cease,

And be Thyself our King of Peace.

Day Three

O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,

O come ye, O come ye, to Bethlehem.

Come and behold Him, born the King of angels;

Refrain

O come, let us adore Him,

O come, let us adore Him,

O come, let us adore Him,

Christ the Lord.

True God of true God, Light from Light Eternal,

Lo, He shuns not the Virgin’s womb;

Son of the Father, begotten, not created;

Refrain

Sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation;

O sing, all ye citizens of heaven above!

Glory to God, all glory in the highest;

Refrain

See how the shepherds, summoned to His cradle,

Leaving their flocks, draw nigh to gaze;

We too will thither bend our joyful footsteps;

Refrain

Lo! star led chieftains, Magi, Christ adoring,

Offer Him incense, gold, and myrrh;

We to the Christ Child bring our hearts’ oblations.

Refrain

Child, for us sinners poor and in the manger,

We would embrace Thee, with love and awe;

Who would not love Thee, loving us so dearly?

Quotation

I'm reading Dickens's A Christmas Carol for the first time and, since I am a sucker for a good quotation, I thought I'd share this one.

“There are some upon this earth of yours who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name, who are as strange to us, and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on themselves, not us.”  --The Spirit of Christmas Present

Day Two

For those of you just tuning in at home, we're taking a six-day trip through the lyrics to some of the most familiar Christmas hymns.  We continue our journey today with "O Holy Night."

O Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining,

It is the night of the dear Savior's birth.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining.

Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!

O night divine, the night when Christ was born;

O night divine, O night, when Christ was born.

Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,

With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.

O'er the world a star is sweetly gleaming,

Now come the wise men from out of the Orient land.

The King of kings lay thus lowly manger;

In all our trials born to be our friends.

He knows our need, our weakness is no stranger,

Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!

Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!

Truly He taught us to love one another,

His law is love and His gospel is peace.

Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.

And in his name all oppression shall cease.

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,

With all our hearts we praise His holy name.

Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,

His power and glory ever more proclaim!

His power and glory ever more proclaim!

"And in His name all oppression shall cease."  So apt as we watch the events play out in North Korea.  Let it be so, Lord.

The Six Days of Christmas

I love old hymns.  Love, love them.  That's mostly what we sang in church when I was young, and it was by far my favorite part of the service.  Don't get me wrong, I like contemporary music, too; there's a lot of great new stuff out there.  But when things get tight, sing me a few verses of "It is Well With my Soul."  Tell me that's not powerful.

In church we always sang verses one, two, and four, supposedly to save time.  That never made sense to me, because it doesn't take but a minute to sing a verse of a hymn, and it's so fun.  It may have been some kind of "grass is greener" phenomenon, but I always felt like the third verse was the one with the most powerful lyrics.  Was it a conspiracy to cover up the most powerful (and therefore, dangerous) messages of these songs?  The world will never know.

(Now I know that some object to old hymns, claiming they contain faulty theology.  Well, I can't argue with that (I'd never win if I tried, anyway) but I'll only accept that objection if you're subjecting all your music to the same scrutiny, not just the old stuff.)

My favorite worship service of the year has always been the one paltry Sunday on which we sang Christmas carols.  The rest of the year they looked out of place in the hymnal beside the "every Sunday" songs, but the last Sunday before Christmas we were allowed to belt them...verses one, two and four, of course.

Retail Christmas starts earlier and earlier every year, but Christmas hymn Sunday remains frustratingly in place.  If I were a worship leader I'd dust those babies off right after Halloween and keep them in the rotation until Groundhog's Day, so it's probably a good thing that I'm not.  There's a lot of good Christmas songs, but these hymns are powerful.  They get me every time.  It's the only time of year we can go into public places and hear the birth of Christ proclaimed in song.  Sometimes I'm amazed.  How do we get away with it?  I think it's because they're too familiar.  We've known them for so long that they've passed into the subconscious, with all the other miscellaneous stuff.

Though it's true that many of our Christmas traditions do not have Christian origins, Christmas has been celebrated for years by mainstream society as a staunchly religious holiday.  As our culture moves away from that, I see us in a bit of a pickle trying to sort out the traditional from the religious.  We resolve this dilemma with instrumental versions of old songs, and new, Jesus-free Christmas songs, and moving the meaning of Christmas to a belief in "the Christmas spirit" and away from religion.

Don't get me wrong, I think these things are good, not bad.  I think people who aren't Christians shouldn't celebrate Christmas as a religious holiday.  God isn't honored by unwilling, or unwitting, praise.  I think people should be free to celebrate the holiday the way they want.  After all, I'm not free to celebrate in my way unless others are free to celebrate in theirs.  My only beef with the situation is that the drive for secular songs to fill the gap has produced some truly horrible Christmas music.  I'm sorry, but there it is.

So I'm here in China, but I am not without Christmas.  Celebrations of Christmas, at least in this part of China, are more and more in vogue every year.  A couple weeks ago I walked into my local mega-mart (yep, we have those; with a billion people, there required) and saw these:

Who says China is behind the world in human rights?  China is a place where Spanish-speaking Packers, Raiders, and Redskin fans can all share their Christmas lo mein together.  And of course we can do so while listening to this rendition I heard last week in McDonald's, "Jingle bell, jingle bell....in a one-horse open slee!"  I get that "sleigh" is hard to pronounce, but doesn't the rhyming scheme with "way" help?  I know Chinese preschoolers that get it.  Oh well.

So I was in Subway yesterday, and I had this idea.  Subway, like all remotely western businesses, is playing Christmas music.  I was just thinking how nice it was that I hadn't heard any "Feliz Navidad" when they played both "The Little Drummer Boy" and "Christmas Shoes."  Call me a philistine, but those are the two worst Christmas songs ever, closely followed by "Here Comes Santa Claus."  The drummer boy is a nice enough story, but I'm sorry, no mother every gave anyone permission to play a percussion instrument around her newborn.  And Christmas shoes?  I know it was the top of the charts a few years ago, and the mom is dying and blah blah, but I can't stand it.  It's like someone found a way to use the PA system to send me email spam.  Sorry, kids.

As I was yearning for some of the good ol' stuff, I had an idea.  We've got six days till Christmas (give or take), and that's eight songs.  I'm gonna search up my best Christmas hymns and post their lyrics here.  I know you already know them, but take a look.  Really take a look.  For starters, let's get to know that lost third verse.  Most of the hymns we associate with Christmas weren't written specifically for Christmas (validating those of use who want to listen to them and sing them in September) but were written like any other hymn: to be good, ol' praise.  So, I'm going to post the lyrics to one hymn every day until Christmas.  I wish I'd thought of this sooner, then I'd challenge worship leaders to start singing these songs earlier, though perhaps not as early as Halloween.  Well, you'll have to stick that one behind your ear for next year.  Anyway, today's selection is Joy to the World.

Joy to the world, the Lord is come!

Let earth receive her King;

Let every heart prepare Him room,

And heav’n and nature sing,

And heav’n and nature sing,

And heav’n, and heav’n, and nature sing.

Joy to the earth, the Savior reigns!

Let men their songs employ;

While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains

Repeat the sounding joy,

Repeat the sounding joy,

Repeat, repeat, the sounding joy.

No more let sins and sorrows grow,

Nor thorns infest the ground;

He comes to make His blessings flow

Far as the curse is found,

Far as the curse is found,

Far as, far as, the curse is found.

He rules the world with truth and grace,

And makes the nations prove

The glories of His righteousness,

And wonders of His love,

And wonders of His love,

And wonders, wonders, of His love.

"He comes to make his blessings flow far as the curse is found."  When you hear "Old Man is Stalking You"  ("Santa Claus is Coming to Town") in Walgreen's for the twenty-nine millionth time, think about that.  To make his blessings flow.  Joy to you.

This Evening

Peter is using a Chinese language version of MS Word to write up a contract while I watch reruns of 30 Rock.

Peter: How do I start a new page?
Me: Use a page break.
Peter: What?
Me: Okay, is this the insert menu?  Okay, choose that one...click here...no, here...then okay.
Peter:  Great, thanks.
Me: Isn't it kind of sad that I can remember all the menu option in Word so well that I can use them in a language I can't read?
Peter: What?
Me: No, not sad...
Peter: Maybe you're just old?
Me: What?
Peter: Well, you said you were sad.
Me: Since when does sad equal old?  Sad does not equal old, and anyway I changed my mind, it's not sad, it's awesome.  So there.
Peter: If you say so.


I am going down to the convenience store to buy movie snacks.  I don't know which is weirder: his description or the fact that I actually got it.

Me: What do you want?
Peter: A Coke Zero and some of those chip things.
Me: What things?
Peter: I forgot the English name.
Me: What do they look like?
Peter: They're, you know, kind of a round triangle cube.
Beat.
Me: Bugles?
Peter: Yeah!  Bugles.
Me: That shape is called a cone.  You know, like an ice cream cone.
Peter:  Yeah.  Tiny wizard hats.
Me: I would accept "cone" or "tiny wizard hats," but you're going to lose points for "round triangle cube."
Peter: Don't talk to me again until after you're done grading your tests.


After watching "Columbiana."


Peter: I think that movie should be named "Catalaya."
Me: I think Columbiana means a woman from Columbia.  But it is a pretty name.
Peter: Maybe we should name our daughter that.
Me: Yeah, but what'll we tell her if she asks us where her name came from?
Peter: We could just tell her we heard of the flower and named her after that.
Me: How's our child going to believe we named her after a Columbian flower?  Anyway, do you want to lie to our child?
Peter: You want to tell her she's named after an assassin?
Me: Never mind.  I don't think I want to give our daughter a name that rhymes with playa.

So Close, and yet So Far

Margie and I are discussing marriage.

Margie: My husband words for Shanxi TV.
Me: I'm going to be a guest on the talk show, Hello Ni Hao.
Margie: Oh, so maybe you'll meet him!
Me:  Maybe I can spy on him for you.
Margie: No, that would be a waste of time.  I never worry about what he's up to when I am not around.  My husband is too old, fat and ugly to have a mattress.
Me: A mattress?
Margie: Oh, I meant a mistress.  Basically the same thing, though.


Discussing America with Jackie.

Jackie: I've heard that America has a lot of terrorist cities--
Me: What?
Jackie: --places where people go to relax, see famous places--
Me: Oh, you mean tourist cities.
Jackie: Yeah, terrorist cities.
Me: Yeah, we need to work on your pronunciation.


Getting to know you.

Me: Have you ever won an award?
Tina: Yes.
Me: What kind of award did you win?
Tina: I won an award for an English competition.
Me: very cool.
Tina: I also won an award for playing the piano...every year for the last six years.  I won two awards for chemistry, one for math, one for and English speech competition--
Me: Dang, Gina!
Tina: What?  What does that mean?
Me: Um, I meant to say, you're very talented.
Tina: So, "Dang, Gina!" means I am talented?
Me: More or less.

Back from Hiatus

Been on a sort of a hiatus, because of the summer rush at my school.  However, I'm back now!  The following conversation occurred after Peter and I watched the movie Eagle Eye.  Usually after we watch a movie I go to IMDB and look it up.

Me: Oh, look, Steven Spielberg was the original director of this movie.
Peter: Who?
Me: Steven Spielberg.
Peter: I don't know.
Me: you don't KNOW?
Peter: What else has he done?
Me: Um, Jaws, Hook, Indiana Jones, ET...
Peter: Oh.
Me:...Back to the Future, Jurassic Park, Animaniacs, Schindler's List...
Peter: Ok.
Me:...The Terminal, Minority Report, AI, Batteries Not Included, Catch Me If You Can, Goonies...
Peter: Yeah, ok, that's good enough.
Me: So, you know?
Peter: Sure.
Me: Here's a picture of him.
Peter: Hmm.  Looks like Harry Potter.


Daisy and I are discussing movies.  This post is the reason I don't try harder to clear this up.

 Daisy: My favorite movie is Twilight.  I think it's so romantic.  I really like the girl, Kris...Kris...
Me: Kristen Stewart.
Daisy: Yeah, Kristen Stewart.  I think she's a really good actress.  She can play so many different kinds of people.  She's also really good in Harry Potter.
Me: I'm sorry, what?
Daisy: She's good in Harry Potter.
Me: So the girl in Twilight is the same girl that plays Hermione in Harry Potter?
Daisy: Of course.  Didn't you realize that?
Me: Um, I can't say that I did.  So, what's your favorite sport?


Poor Seven comes from China, but she's going to college in Italy.  Her Italian university has an exchange program to the US, so she's refreshing her English after several years of studying Italian.  This can sometimes be problematic.  Here, our class is playing Catchphrase.

Trinana: Okay, this word is a food.  It's white or yellow, and we put it on top of a pizza.
Seven: Fromaggio...dammit!

Marital Communication

10:15am *Ring!  Ring!*

Peter: Hello?
Me: Hi.  What are you doing?
Peter: Sleeping.  I'm going to work in an hour.  What are you doing?
Me: Teaching. My student is weird.
Peter:  Cool.  Ok, bye!
Me: Ok, bye!

12:42pm *Ring!  Ring!*

Peter: Hello?
Me: What's going on tonight?
Peter: Nothing.
Me: 80 said he was going to cook me General Tso's Chicken.
Peter:  No, we're not doing that.
Me: Uh, ok.  Hey, a bunch of people from work went to your shop for dinner last night.  They said it was good.  I gotta go.
Peter: Ok, bye!

2:53pm *Ring!  Ring!*

Me: Hello?
Peter: The Cessna sales office in Singapore doesn't have anyone who speaks Chinese.
Me: But the web page said their territory was China!
Peter: I know!  They can't speak English, either.  I was trying to give her my email address, I was all like "K for kill you, u for underwear, v for very fat, B for boy," and she was all like, "What?"
Me: Ok, I'll call them.  I'm can do bad English.  Hey, do Chinese people get ear infections?
Peter: Why?
Me: I think I have one.
Peter: Then why does it matter if Chinese people get them?
Me: I need the medicine, of course.
Peter: Er, I gotta go.
Me: So, for sure no dinner tonight?
Peter: Yep.
Me: Ok, bye.

6:10pm *Ring!  Ring!*

Peter's cousin (in Chinese): Peter forgot his phone again.  I'll get him to call you.
Me: Ok, bye.

6:27pm *Ring!  Ring!*

Me: Hello?
Peter: Where are you?
Me: I just left the pharmacy.
Peter: Did you get the medicine?
Me: Maybe.  I gotta go home and google it.
Peter: Are you coming to the shop?
Me: You said no dinner.  Do you want me to come?
Peter: 80 didn't come to his shop today, so he can't cook for you, but you can come if you want to.
Me: I'll come if you want me to come.
Peter: You can come if you want to come.
Me:  Yeah...I'm going home.  I have a headache.
Peter: Do you want to go to Cauliflower's birthday party later?
Me:  No, I have to get up early to go to the bank.
Peter: Ok, you go home, I'll pick you up later and we'll spend that gift card.
Me: Ok, bye.

6:41pm *Ring!  Ring!*

Peter: What are you doing?
Me: I'm at home.
Peter: Cool.  Hey, 80 wants you to come and eat General Tso's Chicken.
Me: You said he wasn't there today.
Peter: He wasn't!  I didn't think he was coming in.  Do you want to come?
Me: Uhhhh...
Peter: You don't have to.
Me: It'll take me forever to get back there.  What's easiest?
Peter: Er...
Me: My ear is full of medicine.  I think.
Peter: We'll do it tomorrow.
Me: Sorry!
Peter: Never mind.  Bye!
Me: Ok, bye.

10:37pm *Ring!  Ring!*

Me: Hello?
Peter: What are you doing?
Me: Sleeping.  I'm sorry I missed 80.
Peter: I'm sorry I'm still at work.
Me: I love you.
Peter: I love you, too.
Me: Ok.
Peter: Bye.

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?