Schell of a Man

I promise I won't tell you every time I have a good meal here (which I have to admit is much more frequent than I had expected), but last Saturday's lunch is worth a mention. Besides the food here is most definitely noteworthy. As they say here, "A good life is having a Chinese cook, an American salary, and a Japanese wife." (On the other hand, they also say, "A bad life is having a Japanese apartment, a Chinese salary, and an American wife." Sorry ladies). Anyways, last Saturday, two people from Shangyu College, Howie's school, took pity on us and decided to show us some cites around town. Our two “guides” for the day were Dewy and his boss, Ms. Foo. Dewy is a teacher at Shangyu; like us, this is his first year teaching and he happens to be the same age as me. (A quick note on ages: in China you are one year old when you are born, so for your Chinese age you have to add a year. So here I am 25. I wonder if car insurance company will buy that?). Ms. Foo claimed she could not speak English, but could, in fact, speak quite well. Moreover, her Chinese was very clear and easy to understand. So she made a very good Chinese teacher for us.

They picked us up at quarter to nine in the morning and drove out to Lanting (the Orchid Pavilion), which is the thousand year old home of Wang Xizhi, a famous poet and calligrapher. He was also the inventor of very old drinking game. He and his poet friends would sit by a small stream and compose poems while small cups of wine were floated past. If a poet were not able to write an adequate poem on command, he had to drink three glasses of wine. Howie and I were invited to sit by the same stream and drink one of the small bowls of wine that girls dressed in traditional costumes would fill and set in the water. It was Shaoxing wine which I don't like much, but it was still a fun experience. Perhaps Sister Eva should work that game into her next poetry writing class. It could have very interesting results.

The rest of Lanting was beautiful with many small ponds and streams, as well as a large lake with a house in the middle. The whole compound was also covered with bamboo, said to be planted by Xizhi himself. There were many large stone slabs with different Chinese characters carved into them. Shaoxing is home to many of the most famous poets and calligraphers in all of China. It is not usual to find slabs like these in any of the public parks. It is interesting how these poets were famous not only for the words they wrote, but also for the way they actually wrote them. The poem becomes more than just a words, it becomes "a thing."

Following the visit to Lanting, Ms. Foo drove us to Shangyu, the town where Howie teaches, which was about 45 minutes away. On the way over, Dewy discovered by questioning me that neither Howie nor I had eaten since seven PM the night before. It was then 11 am. We were hungry but not starving. However, both Dewy and Ms. Foo looked horrified. Ms. Foo, who was driving, put the pedal to the floor and Dewy kept turning around to reassure us we were almost to the restaurant, as if I were bleeding to death in the back seat and we were on our way to the hospital. It was pretty funny, and a little scary—Ms. Foo isn't a great driver.

We finally arrived at a small restaurant built out in the middle of a pond. The four of us had our own private room with a door that opened onto a small walkway that edged the building. We sat in the fairly large room and commenced to eat for nearly two hours. Our server continued to bring dish after dish; way more than we could possibly eat. I guess it is tradition when you have guests to prepare more food than is necessary. It was the best meal I have had since I got here. We had chicken, duck, beef, fish, and (my favorite) fresh water crab. Along with this there was eggs and chives, sweet corn, celery and pork in little brown bread bowls, spring rolls, green beans, roasted chestnuts, and waternuts (which I have never had before). We each had two bottles of beer with the meal, except for Ms. Foo who was driving. Ms. Foo showed us how to eat the crab so we got all the meat out. She also taught us a famous Chinese poem about the geese in the pond at Lanting.

I think I have figured out the pattern for eating here. When you eat in a restaurant, they bring out each dish as it is ready, and everyone eats from the serving dish (though you have a small bowl for saving bits). So phase one, the dishes come out and you try each one as it comes. The guest of honor is usually the first to eat from each new plate. You continue to each and drink until all the dishes are out. Then comes phase two: you slow down or even stop eating all together, and just talk or make toasts. Phase three, rice, comes just when the foreigners think the meal is nearly over. Rice comes last when eating in China; this sparks a whole new round of eating. This has fooled me twice now. I continue to eat until I am full, then the rice comes out and I can barely eat more than a few bites (which is bad because it's rude not to eat the rice). But now I think I have the hang of it.

After lunch, Ms. Foo and Dewy took us to a famous middle school in Shangyu, where many prominent artists, writers, and scholars had lived and worked. It was interesting but both Howie and I were pretty tired after such a large meal. On the way home, we stopped at Ms. Foo's apartment so she could give Howie her old Smart Phone. I went up to the apartment with them and was amazed by how nice it was (it was a two-story apartment). While we were up there, Ms. Foo offered us some sugar cane, which I had seen in Bolivia but never tried. It looks a little like green bamboo and is about an inch in diameter. She gave us each about a foot and a half of the plant. Dewy showed us how to eat it. You use your teeth to strip the bark off, and then you chew on the center pulp. As you chew you extract the sugary sap, which you drink. Once you've gotten all the liquid out you spit out the pulp. It was pretty good but a foot and a half was a bit too much for me on a full stomach. After the sugar cane, Ms. Foo drove us home, getting in only one small accident, and two near misses. The rest of the day was devoted to rest and recovery.

Well, I just received an email from my parents; they said they've read my posts and are surprised by how much of my time I spend drinking cocktails. So I suppose I should say a word or two about what I am doing here when I am not on the sauce, which I can assure you (Mom and Dad) is not as often as these stories may make it seem. I am teaching 16 hours of class a week. Each class period is 90 minutes long, which is forever. I teach two sophomore classes about the culture and history of English-speaking countries. So far we have only discussed England--we don't get to the US until next semester. These are my most challenging classes since I have to prepare a 90-minute lecture each week. One class period usually takes between three to five hours to prepare for. It's quite difficult since I am teaching complex ideas to students who have the vocabulary of second graders (at best). Today I tried to explain the intricacies of the British economy. I don't think it was much of a success. Next week they have a test on the first five chapters, so I will get to see how well I've really done. I remember when I had to do class presentations back in school and I would get half the semester to prepare for it, and even then it only had to be 30 minutes. All I can say about it is that I have made way more power point presentations in the last seven weeks then I did in all four years of college.

Besides teaching the history class, I teach five first-year Oral English Practice classes. I am slowly getting the hang of this. Trying to get these kids to speak is like pulling teeth; actually they would rather open their mouths to have their teeth pulled than to speak English. It seems like students are as much afraid of success as they are of failure. They don't want to look bad, but they also don't want to make their classmates look bad. I try to make them understand that when everyone tries their best everyone improves, regardless of where they are at. But no one's buying it. The only thing I've found that's worked is having them read dialogues until they feel comfortable enough to write their own, then read them. Finally I edge them towards spontaneous conversation, which is the hardest of all. They constantly look to me for the "correct" answer.

These kids are good students, they've had the grammar drilled into them, but they just don't seem to have the ability to use it outside structured activities. It's kind of funny. When I just stick to the textbook, the students say it is boring, but when I make them do activities that aren't in the book they just stare at me or talk to each other in Chinese. (I tried playing some games with this class but they are so goal-oriented that they cheat shamelessly to reach the end, missing the process in the middle, which is the whole point of the exercises.) I don't know what these kids want. Actually I do; they want a drill that they can privately do over and over until they can speak well. However, learning a language is a process of trial and error, a very public process unfortunately. I have learned this myself to a great extent over the past months. (My vocabulary has nearly doubled; bringing the grand total of words I can say to about 10. But I am still only understood about 10% of the time).

I teach the same speaking class five times. The first time is a bit of a joke. I have my two lecture classes in the morning and by the afternoon I am so burnt out that I just try to make the time pass quickly. It's mostly bookwork, but I try to lighten the mood with a little humor and notes on cultural differences, which they love. The second class is the only one I have on Tuesday and it is a mid-morning class. It usually goes well enough; it's also when I really start trying out some different teaching techniques. Wednesday morning I have the class two more times, these students probably get the best version of it (which is good because they are some of my worst students). My last first-year class is Wednesday afternoon. They get the same thing just with less energy, which is too bad because they are the most lifeless themselves.

Thursday morning I teach a different Oral English class to sophomores at the College of Arts and Sciences (all my other classes are at Yuanpei College). I kind of feel bad for these kids because they get me at the end of the week, after I have spent most of my energy on the first-years. I don't set aside much time to plan for that class and I don't have the opportunities to refine the lessons. Fortunately, they are my best students and are very well behaved throughout the poorly run classes. It may have something to do with the fact that they will all teach "Chinese as a foreign language" when they graduate so they feel some sympathy for me. All of my other students are English majors, half want to be teachers and other half simply want to make a lot of money.

Sadly, with my English majors I can see an unfortunate cycle repeating itself. Most of them were taught by teachers who could read and write English, but could not speak it (or at least not speak it correctly or well). So now there are all these kids who have a good grasp of the grammar but cannot speak (and are too embarrassed to practice). They are going to become teachers and continue the cycle. If I were more of a romantic perhaps I would envision myself breaking the cycle and affecting generations of English teachers and students. However, I tend to be a realist in this situation. I have about 40 students in each class, and try as I might, I know I will only have a small influence on them if any. Even the structure of their past education works against them (and me). Much of their schooling up to this point has been memorization and recitation. They have a very hard time with creative, independent and analytical thought. So when it comes to language they try to learn every common sentence or every possible conversation in its entirety. They don't realize language is made up of smaller basic units that can be put together in limitless ways. That idea seems to make them uncomfortable. They seem to think, "If there are limitless ways to speak, how will I know the right answer?" English is a means of examination for them, not communication.

So these are the challenges I face during the week (which is why I have a cocktail now and then). The experience as a whole has been very interesting and eye opening. It has also helped me to value my own education that much more (though I am not sure how much it prepared me to be a teacher). But I will end on a more positive note about my classes. The true reward for being a teacher is in those (rare) moments in class when I feel the students finally understand me, that I have connected to them. When they turn and begin speaking to each other with enthusiasm and energy, I walk around the room listening to them and I can't help but feel so proud of them.

P.S. The photos in this post are from my Tuesday class, English Corner, the Mid-Autumn Festival, and Howie's Friday class that I made a cameo appearancece in last week to teach a couple of tongue twisters.

We arrived in Shanghai around 4:30 in the afternoon after a two-and-a-half hour bus ride. There isn't much countryside between Shaoxing and Shanghai. There are just a few more streams and rice paddies but still plenty of buildings. After leaving the bus, we made a short hike to the Shanghai train station where we caught the metro into the center of the city. There were tons of people everywhere. I've been to a few large cities but I have never experienced such a mass of humanity. It was crazy. We slowly made our way to the Bund, the European riverfront. It was amazing, 15 million people and every single one of them a slow walker.

We finally made it to Captain's Hostel, which was highly recommended by our guidebooks, but discovered they didn't have any rooms or beds open. It wasn't a surprise; after all, we were just showing up on one of the busiest weekends of the year. So we broke out our books again and started calling hotels. Pretty much everything was booked. We finally found a room at the Education Hotel with a single bed for 380 RMB a night, which we could have if we could get there in an hour (we were in the Bund and it was in the French Concession, a bit of a hike but do-able). We stopped on the way to pick up Krissy's friends who were staying in another hotel, then hopped back onto the metro. After getting slightly lost, we found the hotel and checked in. It ended up costing 480 RMB because they put another bed in the room. We tried to explain that it wasn't necessary, but because Krissy was staying with us they insisted. It worked out well enough, we had three beds in the room, which was much better than just one.

We were pretty tired after all the travel and walking around, but we set out regardless in search of the Badlands, a fabled Mexican restaurant. After twenty minutes or so we found it, but it wasn't much more than a bar with really expensive nachos so we decided to keep moving. We finally settled on a place where we could get club sandwiches, which hit the spot after the long day. We then walked to a bar and had a drink but nobody had much motivation to do more than that. So we said goodbye to Krissy's friends and headed back to the hotel, stopping to pick up a very cheap bottle of wine. We stayed up for a couple of hours in the hotel watching the Chinese version of MTV. The wine wasn't worth drinking but we each had a glass nonetheless. Watching the music videos, drinking the bad wine, and joking around with Krissy and Howie that night was probably the most fun I had in Shanghai. Those two are good travel companions.

The next morning we needed to find a pay phone to start calling other hotels to see if we could get a better deal on rooms. But it was raining, and we didn't have any rain gear. So I ran down the street to grocery store and bought a couple of umbrellas and then we went to make some calls. We had no luck, so we decided to stay at the Education Hotel another night.

We made it back to the People's Square (the city center) by noon and began our hunt for the two restaurants Shanghai was rumored to have, Subway and Taco Bell. We walked for a while without much luck. We finally found the Taco Bell, with the help of Krissy's friends. Unfortunately, it wasn't a Taco Bell; it was a Taco Bell Grande. No relation. It looked like a decent place to eat but the prices were a bit steep for lunch. We couldn't find the Subway so we ended up eating at a Burger King. Now, I know what most of you are thinking, fast food? I don't normally eat much fast food back in the US, but I cannot tell you how good a burger and fries tastes after a month and a half of rice and noodles.

The rain had let up for a short while before lunch, but started again as we finished. So we decided to hit up the Shanghai Art Museum which was on the other side of the square. It was interesting for the most part but I was tired and wet and not in quite the right mood for it. The best part of the museum was probably the sign outside with all the restrictions, the last of which was "No admittance for the psychopaths." I swear I am not making this up. Fortunately, we were able to sneak Howie in.

The rain had stopped by the time we left the museum so we were able to walk down to the Bund and get a good view of the riverside. The Bund is the oldest part of the city. It has a lot of old European looking buildings on one side of the river and on the other side a bunch of futuristic looking skyscrapers. It was a great view and the first defining sight of Shanghai, before seeing the Bund, the city looked like any other in the world. The walkway along the river was packed with people taking pictures. Some asked if they could take pictures with us, and many others would simply edge close enough for their friends to get pictures of them with us in the background. Krissy was pretty much the main attraction since she was a girl with blonde hair.

We walked along the river until the police sealed off both ends and forced everyone to clear out. They had also apparently shut down the large ten-lane highway that ran next to the walkway. So we hopped a couple of barricades and walked down the empty road, a surreal experience, especially in the early evening light. We walked a few blocks back to the Captain's Hostel, where we had a beer on their room-top bar and Howie got some great shots of the city. We had to leave the bar all too soon to run back to the People's Square and meet Krissy's friends for dinner. We went to Taco Bell Grande, which was quite good. I can now say I've eaten at Mexican restaurants not only in the Middle East but also in China. Now I just need to get down to Mexico.

After dinner, the five of us returned to the Captain's for a few more drinks, but, as the theme of the night seemed to be, we had to leave much too early in order to catch the last metro back to the French Concession. Howie and I made an exhaustive search of the French Concession's main strip looking for a bottle of wine, which we finally found, but the effort of the search pretty much knocked us out. So it was an early night for us, much to Krissy's chagrin.

The next morning it was raining again. We checked out of the hotel and with our bags in tow we set off to explore the "Fashion and Art Market" just down the street. After I had been in the market for no more than three minutes and the fiftieth person approached me saying, "Hello! DVDs? Watch? Shoes?" and grabbing my arm, I decided it was time to leave. So we retreated across the street to the safety of a "Mister Donut" and the comfort of a glazed donut. We then wandered in a confused daze around People's Square for a while before heading to the Shanghai railway station where we said a tired goodbye to Krissy.

A light-rail ride, one wrong bus station, and a slighly expensive taxi ride later, we were at the long-distance bus station with tickets in hand. It was in the bathroom at the bus station when a man budged in front of me in the line for the urinal by literally pushing over the man at the urinal, who was in the process of zipping up his pants, that I realized I was sick of Shanghai.

I was never so happy to be back in Shaoxing. It has a wonderful small town feel, you can see the sky (almost), and cars stop for you when you are on bike or foot. I never realized how good we have it here.

P.S. Here are a few more photos from the trip. Enjoy.

Greetings All! I know I am not going in any sort of chronological order here, I'm just writing when the mood strikes me, but last weekend I took my first official trip to Shanghai. As I noted in the last post, October 1 was National Day, and Howie (my roommate for those of you who don't know) and I decided to do what 374 million other Chinese people were doing that weekend--travel to another city. Our friend Krissy Solomon, who is teaching in Changsha (also in China), was going to be there with two other teachers from her school. So we decided to make it up for a reunion.

Actually everything started two days before National Day, on Thursday, when Krissy and her friends arrived in Shanghai after a 20-hour train ride, on which they were unable to get beds and therefore had to sit on hard seats throughout the trip. They called us to say they weren't sure they could handle the three-hour bus ride to Shaoxing to come visit that night, but they would discuss it and call us back in an hour. Five hours later, Howie and I still hadn't heard anything and we had a dinner date with Wendy so we assumed they weren't coming and left the apartment.

A quick digression on our dinner: We went to dinner at Ladefense, which was supposed to be a posh "western-style" restaurant. One thing I have learned in my short time here, if you want western food and decent service when you are in China, go to McDonald's or KFC (both are big here). Any other place you go will just leave you disappointed with the food and amazed at both the poor service and (relatively) large bill.

So after a long wait, a small amount of food, and a frustrating conversation with five servers, we returned to our apartment to discover Krissy had left her friends in Shanghai to come to Shaoxing, and she had been waiting at the Shaoxing bus station for the past hour and a half. We quickly hopped a cab (which took us the long way) to the bus station.

After bringing her back to the apartment so she could drop off her bags and take a shower, we brought her to one of our favorite restaurants (which I am shamed to admit I don't know the name of), where we got our favorite dish: squash fried in duck egg (see photo). Mmmm, so good. (For those of you who are counting, you're right, that was our second dinner of the night, but the first one didn't count because I never actually got my food.)

The rest of the night was spent in relative relaxation, talking, trading stories, and sipping on the Jim Beam whiskey Krissy brought us. (This was before we discovered the one store in Shaoxing that sells western alcohol--apart from the cans of Budweiser and Pabst Blue Ribbon in the grocery store). We were excited to have a little taste of back home. We had tried a couple of different Chinese liqueurs, but they all tasted like honey beer spiked with kerosene.

They next day was hot, but we set out anyways to show Krissy the town, starting with our other favorite restaurant, Grandma's Noodles. The fried mushroom and chicken (maybe pork?) noodles are the best I've ever had. Krissy ordered my other favorite dish, "The sauce explodes the eggplant," which is not really as violent as it sounds. We sat at our usual table outside on the covered walkway next to a small canal. The food and company were excellent, and the quality of the service was very well summed up by the English phrase printed in large letters across the front of the building, "Your come is our honor."

After a casual stroll through the antique market and a trip around one of the city parks, we retired to the cool of the apartment, and the warm glow of the television. (We watched Kung Fu Hustle in Chinese, just so we didn't forget where we were...as if it were possible). That evening we couldn't decide on where to eat so we agreed to have a cocktail and think about. Well, one turned into a few more, and it was getting late by the time we went to the dumpling place for dinner, then on to bar street.

Now I have never been know for my abilities to consume large amounts of alcohol, there are no legends about me growing in the dark halls and back alleys of St. Johns right now (at least not of that ilk), but whatever sort of tolerance for the devil's brew I once had is most surely gone now. I get a good buzz from gargling with mouthwash. So needless to say after a few cocktails on an empty stomach, I was in rare form that night. From what I have been told, the pictures I've seen, and what I can remember, I had a great time. I loved the world, and according to Howie and Krissy, I wanted to tell everyone. All I know was that night I made some new friends (who I surprisingly haven't seen since) and ate the greatest McChicken sandwich of my life. So much for being good ambassadors for the United States.

Feeling like a million bucks the next morning, we set off for the big city. We arrived at the bus station at 11 am and purchased tickets to Shanghai on the next available bus, leaving at 1:10. The station was packed and there was no place to sit, so we found a corner to squat down in and proceeded to pass nearly three hours (the bus was late), with only the occasional entertainment of a curious child who wandered over to investigate the strange foreigners. Apart from the hard floor and hard stares, the time in the bus station was rather enjoyable, listening to music and joking around with my travel companions.

Our bus finally pulled out of the station around 2:10 and we were on our way to one of the largest and busiest cities in the world...

So if you are missing me and this blog and the emails just aren't enough John for you (and how could they possibly be. I mean seriously, just look at that face...), here are some non-electronic ways to get in touch with me:

By Telephone: My number if you are calling from the US: 011 86 575 834 8551 (this number is slightly different from the one I sent out in a mass email. I think this one will work).

Wal-mart sells international calling cards with a decent rate for calling China (about $0.07 per minute, which is better than AT&T's $1.00/minute). Right now I am 13 hours ahead of Minnesota, so add one hour and switch AM/PM; however, this will change to 14 hours after daylight savings begins. Calling in the mornings or the evenings are usually your best bet.

By Post: Or mail as you Yanks say (sorry, the British teacher's English is rubbing off on me). Here is a picture of my address. You have to include the Chinese characters on the envelope or the letter (or package!?! now there's an idea) will never arrive. You can just save the picture from this blog, print it off and paste it right on the envelope.

By Shortwave Radio: My handle is "Sweet cheeks" (long story).

I think that is about it. So keep in touch, because you know I am keeping track and your gift upon my return is directly proportional to the amount of contact I had with you. Quid-pro-quo. So now you know. Peace.

Today is Thursday and I should have been preparing lesson plans for Saturday. A quick side note: we didn't have any classes this week because of the National Holiday (a digression on the side note: we weren't official told that we had a week off until the week before it, such is China), but we couldn't just have a week off, no, that would be way to simple. Instead, we have no classes this week but on Saturday and Sunday we have the classes we would have normally taught on Thursday and Friday. So if you have multiple classes of the same course spread throughout the week, those on Thursday and Friday will now be a week ahead of the others. I don't understand the logic of all this, and quite frankly it is a pain. But that is not the point of this story.

So today, instead of planning lessons, I went with Wendy, another foreign teacher from England, and two Chinese guides, Cookie (a man) and Emma, to visit a temple in a rural area outside of Shaoxing. This involved riding the number 116 bus for an hour into the countryside (a note on bus numbers: the bus number is asigned to the vehicle depending on how many years old it is... just kidding... maybe). So after a long hour we got off the bus and began a several-mile hike through the countryside, passing multiple villages, rice fields and groves of mulberry trees (the leaves of which are used to feed silk worms. I thought there was only mulberry brushes. like in the rhythm, but I guess I was wrong). In one village we passed, Cookie recognized a man and woman as the couple his mother lived with thirty years ago following the Cultural Revolution. He and his family had come to visit them every couple of years since then. The couple recognized Cookie and told us all to return in a little while and join them for lunch.

We hiked for another 45 minutes or so before reaching the temple. It was interesting enough with statues of ancestors and an emperor who ruled China 3000 years ago. (He had apparently been born near there). I had my fortune read and was told it (my fortune) could turn bad if I allow myself to be distracted by beautiful women. Good to know, I guess. I also heard that on September 27 each year from 11am to 1 pm, thousands of fish in the river below the temple line up in straight lines facing the temple to pray, and it is very bad luck to catch them while they are praying. Also good to know.

When everyone "staffing" the temple (and by staffing I mean staring at us and giggling) decided to take their lunch break we realized we were late for a lunch date of our own. Starving from the hike and fortune-hearing we made a hasty retreat to the village for lunch. However, our retreat was apparently not hasty enough, because our host hired a truck from the village to drive out and pick us up. He came along in the truck as well, making it one seat short of fitting us all in. (Cookie had to ride on the bed in the back.) It was nice of him to come so the driver wouldn't miss us but honestly, there was little chance of that since we were the first foreigners to visit the temple or village in anyone's memory. I was given a place of honor in the truck, the middle of the back seat, right where the drive shaft goes through so I had to keep my knees pressed to the my chest. The whole ride back to the village our host happily talked to me, seemingly unconcerned about my inability to understand Chinese.

When we arrived at the house, we found a large meal all prepared and set out for us. Cookie explained that we were very important guests in the house because we were the first foreigners to eat there. To show how big of an event this was, our host opened the large front doors (even though we all came and left through the side door) to let out (as well as in) the good fortune of the event. We then sat down to eat with the host and hostess, her sister and a smattering of children and grandchildren. Here's what was on the menu for the day (also see top picture):

Cold Chicken with soy sauce (all of the chicken, I mean all).
Drunken Duck (cooked in wine, served cold as well)
Fried fish (minnows actually. Caught in the village river, fried and eaten whole. Not bad. See photo)
Cooked Red Pork (It is actually mostly pig fat cooked in a very good sauce. See photo above)
Lima Beans (they have a very important meaning for this region, though I am not sure why)
Roasted Chestnuts
Bamboo shoots, vegetables, and pressed tofu.
Green beans still in their husks (or what ever it is called)
Radish Pork Soup (my favorite)
Cauliflower and Tofu
Celery, Pork, and Tofu
Green Peppers and Tofu (Can never have enough tofu...)
Tofu and Congealed Ducks' Blood soup

All this was serviced with a bowl of beer to drink. I had the bowl for about a minute before the host made a speech, then I heard "Gambi," which means "to the bottom." So I had to down the whole bowl of beer, which was promptly refilled. In addition, I was poured a bowl of Shaoxing wine which is very potent but tasty. I also had a very fancy cup of tea (the one with the lid in the top picture), with the tealeaves picked from the highest point on one of the surrounding mountains.

In the top photo you may notice a pile of trash next to my bowl of beer and wine. In China, all inedibles like bones and...well, whatever you refuse to eat, goes on the table. The table is out of bounds, if any food falls on it, you can't eat it. Spitting bones, etc. from your mouth directly onto the table is the preferred method of delivery. Pretty much all western table manners go out the window here. Slurping and lip-smacking are two ways of showing the cook you are enjoying your meal. So during the meal, I had to remind myself to smack my lips as I ate as to not offend my hosts. If only Peter (my brother) could have seen me then...

Following the meal, I took on the youngest grandson in table tennis and was thoroughly trounced. Towards the end I did improve a little bit (though I think he was given the signal not to embarrass me so much by not letting me score a single point). We were then given the grand tour of the house, Which was nice large and comfortable. After which we were lead into the street where we made small talk for a couple of minutes (mostly for the neighbors' sake-so they could see who had come for lunch. Normally there is very little small talk following a meal). Finally, with full stomaches and heavy feet, we were then pointed towards the bus station and sent on our way back to Shaoxing.

Hi All,

This is the first posting on my China travel blog. I just thought I would start this so I don't have to keep filling your inbox with my mass emails. Although I may still continue to email you from time to time just to remind you I still exist. So here you go. Hope you enjoy.

John

(< Me at "English Corner," I'm the white guy.)