Friday, September 10, 2010

Is it Night or Day?, Mice Love Rice, "Did you hear me save a bitch?" and Cops and Robbers (One and the Same?)

~~~~
Tuesday:  A Story of Jet Lag, Sleep Deprivation, and Looming Insanity.
Note: This story has little to do with China in particular, but everything to do with the hazards of 15 hour time zone differences.

Last Tuesday I somehow managed to fall asleep during the daytime without realizing it.  My alarm was already set from the day before to go off at 7:35, but it makes no differentiation between am/pm because it's just a cheapie little analogue.  So the thing goes off at 7:35 and I wake up with my computer resting on my lap, fully clothed in what I wore yesterday (well...actually today, but I’m getting to that).  

I wake up thinking it's morning, thanking god that my alarm happened to be set still from the "day before" or I would have been screwed.  I'm still fully clothed and pissed that I didn't get to take a shower before I went to bed.  I was also mad that I didn't have time to study any of the words from my last Chinese lesson before going to class, which is pretty bad because one-on-one teaching makes it difficult to pretend I know something I don't.

So I start getting ready for my day, changing, etc. I'm ready by 8 (breakfast time!) so I go down to the lounge/dining area to eat.  My friend John is out there.  The door to get to the dining room is locked.  ...that was the first sign.  I ask him why nobody else is there, because usually there are at least ten students who come to breakfast.  I quickly tell him the story about how I fell asleep with all my clothes and the light on, and was really disoriented.  He answers that he doesn't know why there's nobody here, but wants me to know that "the guys are meeting for drinks at 10" and I should come. 
...hrrrrmmm...why are they planning so far in advance?  Usually we plan going out during dinner, not at breakfast.

It's only at that point that I start to question myself on the time.  I ask John to check, since I don't have a watch and he says it's 8.  I finally decide to throw out any shred of self respect I might have and ask if that's 8AM or 8PM.  He tells me AM, so I'm thinking, “Okay, sweet! Right on schedule.”  ...turns out he was playing me! (He does stuff like this a lot, so in retrospect I’m not surprised) 

John let me go on thinking that it was morning for about ten minutes while I frantically looked over my notes in preparation for my class.  We kept talking and I kept questioning him on the time because I just felt like something was off.  Finally he said it was nighttime, and that he thought I had known that all along, and that I was joking before!  I freak out now, not knowing what to believe anymore.  I had to get him to tell me it was evening like ten more times before I actually believed him.  

I went back to my room, disoriented and curious about when I had actually fallen asleep and for how long, so I checked my Internet History bar to see when I had last gone to a website.  Turns out I had fallen asleep at 5:30pm, had missed dinner, and had gotten ready for the next day without even realizing it!  

I can't believe how many aspects of this story had to align for me to go on thinking for a whole HOUR that it was morning instead of evening.

But that's not all.  Here's the worst part:  This is the SECOND time I've done that here.  Last time was last weekend and I was planning to go out to brunch with the guys in the morning at 10am.  I woke up at 8:50 but read the clock as 9:50, for some reason.  

I hurried to get dressed but nobody was at the meeting spot when I got there.  I was about 10 minutes later than we had planned on, so figured they had probably just left.  Either that or... the plans had been slightly nebulous and everyone was really wiped from the night before so I figured they were all probably still sleeping.  I decided since I was already up I'd go grab breakfast by myself.  

It took me until I got to the restaurant and had already ordered to glance at my ipod clock and realize it was only 9am instead of 10!  That day I ended up finishing my solitary breakfast, coming back to meet everyone at the proper meeting time, and then going out to the same exact restaurant i had just finished eating at with all of them.
~~~~

On Thursday, I learned how to say words about music in my Chinese lesson.  This wasn’t originally in my lesson plan, but I figured it’s something I talk about enough that I should learn a few basic words.  I mentioned to my teacher that I learned a silly pop song in my high school Chinese class called “Lao Shu Ai Da Mi,” which translates to “Mice Love Rice” (or it’s full title “I Love you like Mice Love Rice”).  I told her I had forgotten most of it because I learned the song four years ago.  She immediately took it upon herself to not only teach me the song again but also read through the pinyin (Chinese words) with me and help me translate it so I knew what the lyrics meant.  The underlying lyric is essentially “I love you like mice love rice.”  Pretty mushy, eh? 


Spotted.  Toiletcam sign inside yet another bathroom, this time in a club called SoHo.
Pretty great, eh?  Talk about an invasion of privacy!

In other news, I watched a bootleg version of the movie The Lovely Bones the other day.  I know, I know, this is an American movie.  Why am I writing about it in a blog about China?  Well, despite my best efforts I couldn’t get the English subtitles to go away.  Incidentally these turned out to be the best part of the movie!!

If someone were to read the subtitles of this film, they would not believe it was the same movie as the American version!  It’s almost as if someone watched the movie on silent and then wrote all their own words with despicable grammar based on (or not at all based on) what they saw on screen. Basically, most of the subtitles made absolutely zero sense.  They were so ridiculous that after a while I couldn’t help but write some of them down.
Enjoy!

“It's hot in here”--> “take the beer”  
"Im not gonna hurt you" -->"i have not been appreciated enough"  
"she's dead isn't she" -->"you should sleep"  
"heaven" turned into "Acura Paradise"  
"You might be dead soon"=> "I really like you"  
"He was animal"-->”he liked animals".  
"I thought you'd be happy"-->"You should be glad to a point."  
"She wanted to kiss him very much"--> "He very much wanted to kiss me"  
"He resented it"-->"He himself was also very confused."  
"you're a hunter"-->"you're a carpenter too"  
“It's all about concealment”--> “It's all displacement.”  
"gorgeous"-->"Incense and"  
"I insist, open the door"--> “I exercise!”  
“When i was alive”--> “When I fooled.”  
“You don't control this, Suzie”--> “you do not not say that.”  
“You will see, everybody dies”--> “You are so lovely.”  
"Did you hear me say that"--> “Did you hear me save a bitch?”  
“She had been his land lady”--> “this is a very beautiful place.”  
"she was six"--> she has six children  
"You go on"--> “You will continue to the bar.” (had nothing to do with bars).   
"My girl" (spoken by a father)--> “I am a woman.” 
“Have you seen holly?”--> “You must have heard of Harry.”  
“you wrote me a poem once”--> “you have called yourself in.”  
“These were the lovely bones”--> “He is sniffing a lovely bones.”  
“You looking for a ride”--> “you look like car.”  
“Look mister, I'm not interested, Okay?”--> “Hello Mr. President, I am not interested in this.”  
“My name is Salmon, like the fish”--> “My name is salmon, and sardines with the same name.”

I must say, it is quite difficult to feel sad during a dramatic moment when a speech about a six-year-old dead girl carries subtitles that suggest she is a mother of six children.

Top One, aka the club we got kicked out of
For a piece of completely unrelated but equally exciting news, on Friday night my friends and I were robbed by the cops.  Here's how it happened: We went back to Kun Du, the clubbing district.  Everything was going fine when we first got there.  We went to a club called Top One, which ended up being a loud crowded bar with people dancing all over these little platforms around the dance floor.  After hanging out for a while, we decided to go dance a bit, taking our spots on one of the many platforms.  The club was decorated with huge fakey-gaudy chandeliers everywhere that hung down far enough to reach while standing on the platform.

Basically my friends and I were dancing, and at one point Pete placed his hand on one of the arms of a hanging chandelier for balance.  All at once the part he had touched fell out of it’s “socket!”  He quickly tried to push it back in, but the arm wouldn’t reattach.  

Giving up on the light, he grabbed my arm and made a beeline for the club’s exit.  We were promptly met by two security guards standing at the door, so he swerved us in the other direction (back in towards the dance floor).  We had traveled no more than 10 feet when a string of security guards started following our every move.  I started walking faster, trying to lose myself from Pete since after all, I didn’t really do anything wrong.  Unfortunately he kept close by me.  Probably thought there was some kind of safety in numbers…

Despite my best efforts, they kept right on our tail as I weaved the way through the crowd.  Even worse, now the club security guards had phoned the cops about us and they were quickly arriving at the scene as well.  I jumped over a banister to get back to the table where my other friends were and all my things were sitting.  One of the security guards who had been chasing us caught my eye.  I tried as hard as I could to look like I was confused at the whole ordeal (which wasn’t hard, considering I’ve never been chased by cops before.)

I decided to try my hand at some elementary Chinese.  I mean, I’m supposed to be practicing my conversational skills, right?  So I asked the guy in Chinese if I could leave the club.  To my surprise, he nodded his head yes!  I made a beeline for the exit, hoping none of my friends were following me, especially Pete, because it looked like they weren’t going to get off quite as easily.  However, even though the security guard let me go, that didn’t stop the police from wanting me to stay with the party I had arrived with.

With the club guard’s blessing, I sped out of the club and into the crowded streets of Kun Du.  Unsure of what to do next, I slipped inside a random club across the street to wait for my friends.  It was so surreal walking through there, yet knowing all along that I was being looked for by police.  The only thing I could think to do was run into the club bathroom and alter my appearance.  That’s what people do in the movies, right?

Examining my options in the mirror, I pulled my hair up into the highest ponytail I could possibly create.  I know it sounds weird but I felt like this simple change actually helped a lot.  Then I put a grey sweater on over my dress, hoping to thwart any distinguishable descriptions about what I was wearing.

Chandelier in KunDu.  Yeah, that's plastic all right.

After about ten minutes had passed, I peeked my head out of the club, thinking I would probably see my friends standing outside waiting for me.  Instead I saw about 20 men (police men) wearing plastic white hats surrounding the entrance to Top One.  And in the middle of the crowd were my five foreign friends, arguing with the police.  I wasn't sure what to do at this pont, since we hadn’t made any kind of plan to meet up, considering how swiftly I had gotten out of there.  I walked the streets awhile in my new “disguise,” checking up on them every few minutes to see if the trouble had passed.

After about a half an hour of walking nervously throughout Kun Du, I decided to catch a taxi home, and hope they assumed I had gotten out of there okay (at this point, none of them knew about my civil conversation with the Top One security guard). 

I arrived safely to my room about 15 minutes later, but still highly strung up and anxious.  I wasn’t sure if the cops were looking for me or what was going on with the travel-buddies I had just abandoned in exchange for saving myself.

When I got to my room, I started pacing, frantically trying to make sense of what had just happened and imagining the scenario if I were to have gotten in trouble with the cops, or even gone to jail just because of a dumb broken light that I didn’t even break!  About five minutes into this, I was interrupted by a loud banging on my door.  Of course my first thoughts were “Oh shit!  They’ve found me!  How did they find me?!  What am I going to do!  …well, there goes everything…”  I cracked open the door, and to my surprise I found Pete standing outside, looking like he was ready to hit someone.

“They robbed me” he said, defeated.  “The cops fucking robbed me.”  I found out the next day that the police had basically told the group that either they hand over 1000 kuai ($150) then and there (for what? being foreigners?!), give them passports as collateral and come back tomorrow to pay the fine, or be taken to jail.  Of course, they paid, but only after bargaining the cops down to 500 kuai instead of 1000.

Woah!  Sure glad I got myself out of there!

The next day we were talking about the incident at lunch.  Maria, a student here from Spain, made a good point.  She was like “What?! They made you pay for breaking a chandelier?  You did them a favor.  Those things are atrocious!”  Haha, she was so right.

BONUS PICTURE:

Best lamps ever.  I'm dubbing them 'Erection Lamps.'
Erect=light on, Flaccid=light off.
The Chinese continue to baffle me with their cunning wit!

Saturday, September 4, 2010

(No) Birds (nor) Flowers, No Shitting Please, Pole-dancing Strippers, Lake Dian, and Bamboo Restaurants

Last Friday we went to the Western district, called Wei Lin Jie, to check out the scene.  We settled in at a quaint little place called the French Café.  They serve nice French wines, in which we all gladly partook.  




The French Cafe

Later we stopped for a snack at a random street vendor and I got a noodle soup, which had the best noodles I’ve ever eaten in my life, hands down.  The place was just on a dingy little side street, and you could see through the “dining room” to the kitchen, which in my case turned out to be awesome because I could literally watch the chef making my noodles from scratch in front of me.  It basically looked like he was kneading a long string of dough that he kept slapping on the counter.  I don’t know what made it so good but it tasted fresh and soft and aaaahhh no words. Yum!

Item from the Bird and Flower Market.
Neither bird nor flower
On Saturday Chris, John, and I walked to the famous Bird and Flower Market, which incidentally has very few flower stands and zero birds.  It’s basically a huge farmer’s market kind of situation but it feels more enclosed because each vendor’s tent is pushed up against their neighbors’.  That and they sold mostly useless items rather than farm-fresh organic foods.  However, I was happy to find that the flowers they did sell were mostly Orchids!  Favorite.  So beautiful.  :-)

ORCHIDS!
MORE ORCHIDS!

Indian Food from China
That night we went back to the Western district for dinner, where we tried Chinese Indian food.  To my surprise, it was quite good!  Of course, after I came to this conclusion, I realized that I shouldn’t have thought Indian food in China would necessarily be worse than Indian in America.  China is way closer to the country, so chances are it’s actually more authentic!  One weird thing I keep noticing though is that in most restaurants, when either I or any of my friends have ordered beer, the waitress always asks if we want it cold or not.  I have yet to hear a single person request boiled beer…but to each their own, I guess.



Oh no! Can't anyone do anything anymore?
You know, this is why people get diseases.
...at least they're polite about it.
After dinner we went back to the same French Café from the day before, where we tried a majority of the drinks on their extensive menu.  I peeked into their restroom this time, and found I pretty great sign pasted on the walls.  It added a nice touch to go with the restaurant's otherwise mild French decor.  The sign read "No Shitting Please."  Haha, I love that they have no qualms with using swear words on public signs.  At least they said please!  I must say, I’ve been especially happy to find that the bathrooms in Chinese bars and restaurants offer ample comedic material.


OTHER SIGHTINGS:
a common theme...


My favorite.  Very creative.  Haha








After we’d had our fill of food and drink, we headed over to Kun Du, the major clubbing district of Kunming.  The place is enormous, wild, sweaty, loud, and an all-around crazy experience.  Walking through it almost feels like you’ve been eaten by the gargantuan walls of flashing lights and monster-sized door frames.  

"Disco," the gay-friendly club
The first club we walked into was called SoHo.  It immediately felt like we had just entered a very upscale machinery shop or something.  It was huge and several stories.  Despite its size, there were no open tables to be found so we headed out pretty fast.  Nonetheless, I immediately noticed the atrocity of the music, which consisted of mostly outdated American songs that most people my age would say were popular when they were in elementary school. 


My friends and I ended up spending most of our time (quite accidently) hanging out in a gay-friendly club called Disco.  It took a good half hour or so for us to realize we were actually in a gay-friendly club, but after a group of men all took off their shirts simultaneously, we put the pieces together.  (as an aside, they don’t really have any real gay clubs.  Gay-friendly is as close as it gets). 

12 beer order minimum.  Tragic.
In Kun Du, it seems pretty much the norm that you can’t order less than 12 beers at a time.  So essentially you have to go out with a substantial group or else you’ll have a pretty interesting time finding your way out of the maze of lights that make up the street.

Oh wait, that’s not all!  About 45 minutes into our being at Disco, a woman (maybe man dressed as a woman? The jury’s still out…) did a strip pole dance on the raised dance floor!  She was dressed in tight white revealing clothes, and had a white wig on.  I can safely say that she was the best dancer on the floor that night.  …although that’s not really saying much, I suppose, since many people here don’t seem to have any rhythm.  Sorry guys, not trying to be mean.  Just an observation.

On Sunday we decided to get breakfast at the Kunming Hotel, a fancy place right across the street from our school.  We had heard a ton of good things about it from a woman that was studying at Keats a little while ago.  To sum up the experience, it was expensive, not that great, and there were about 7 waiters staring at us the whole time we ate.  Even better, we were literally the only party in the entire restaurant, which was large.  It felt like we were animals being observed in a zoo.

To make matters even more uncomfortable, I got my meal first and was following the polite Western conduct of waiting till the whole table received their dishes before starting in.  Doesn’t seem like that concept carries over around here; I waited about 20-30 minutes until my friend’s food had arrived (sooo long!), and by then my soup was cold.  Not only that, the waiters decided they needed to watch us as we did not eat as well, during the time we were waiting for each dish.  Awkward and not an experience I would repeat.
Lake Dian

That afternoon John, Pete and I visited Lake Dian, a huge picturesque lake on the Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau.  The lake is enclosed inside a park, and includes a ton of theme park type rides as well.  We didn’t really partake in the rides, but did end up going on the Ferris wheel, which went about a third of the speed as most typical Ferris wheels go.  It was great to be able to look out and get a birds-eye view of the huge expanse of land in the park. 
Entrance to Lake Dian 




We had to purchase tickets to get in, which wasn’t a problem but the experience did call my attention to yet another difference here: for children, rather than tagging ticket prices in relation to ones age, they go by the child’s height.  Like so many other cultural differences here, I couldn’t figure out why at first, but have since learned that they do this because many people here do not actually know their age.  The date of their birth has either been left undocumented altogether or simply forgotten.

The park had no less than 20 people flying kites of all colors.  The whole thing was so picturesque, I felt like I was inside of a fairy-tale.  We ate a picnic on the grass and just chilled there, talking and taking in the scenery for most of the day.

Some random chick
posing in front of the Lake

Our Ferris Wheel
Lake Dian
I thought it was especially funny when we passed by these big blow-up inner-tube toys on the lake.  They were hollow inside, and kids would run around inside them.  It reminded me a lot of hamsters running in a wheel.  I took a really funny video of the action taking place but blogspot seems not want to cooperate with video files, so this picture will have to suffice:

Inner tube toys at Lake Dian.
Kids go inside the middle and runrunrun!
That night the school took us out to get Dai food.  The Dai people are one of the 26 minority groups here, and their food is especially known for being sour and spicy.  After last week’s painful hotpot experience, I decided to request that we get some dishes that weren’t too spicy.  The teacher accompanying us ended up ordering ‘all mild’ which basically seems to mean ‘isn’t going to burn your face off.’  My American palate is clearly not quite ready for the intense flavor of the food over here. 

Our Dai Food Meal

Despite the teacher’s best efforts to make sure we could all comfortably eat the food at the restaurant, the staple of Dai food turns out to be pineapple rice.  Basically they take out all the fruit part out of the pineapple and fill it with rice, which has been soaked in pineapple juices.  As yummy as it sounds, I happen to be slightly allergic to pineapple.  So much for that.  I decided to pretend I wasn’t for the evening.  No doubt it was very tasty, but it also caused my whole mouth to feel like it was about to shrivel up.  I clearly don’t take my allergies very seriously…

Dai Restaurant
One really cool thing about the restaurant was that it was made entirely out of bamboo.  Bamboo everywhere--tables, chairs, décor, walls…basically anywhere you could look aside from the various plants.  The private room we at in was essentially a little bamboo hut with bamboo chairs that looked like they had been made for a pre-schooler’s frame.  John, who was with us, had a difficult time getting comfortable with his impressive 6’5 stature.  Ouch!

If anyone is still reading at this point: Teaser for my next post: Movie Subtitle Madness, Is it Morning or Evening, Getting Chased  and Robbed by Chinese Police (yes, actually), and ??? to come...


BONUS PICTURES:

Coming out of the bathroom at French Cafe.
Don't pretend you didn't do what I know you did in there.

Revenge

Advertisement on a public bus.
aka Baby doing downward-facing dog!
They start 'em with yoga young around here.
A cool alleyway next to the Bird and Flower Market


Modeling the crazy purple sequin glasses from the Bird and Flower Market

Pete, John, Chris, Moi

Someone's idea of decor?
This was hanging from the ceiling of a restaurant. hrmm

Sign outside a clothing store.  Wtf! Had nothing to do with cows.

An abandoned store.  So much for locking down love...

Cool old building

This picture illustrates well the new and
old building styles of Kunming. 

people fishing around the fountain in the Main Square

Man selling puppies on the street

Because calling the store 360 wouldn't have been quite enough... 
Sequin purple glasses part deux

Some random Chinese clubbers outside Disco.
Why did they have a gun?
Whatever the case, we made friends.
Oh my! A Cat on a Hot Tin Roof!
(for the non-drama dorks amongst us, that's the name of a play.)
Sign inside a storage room at Carrefour, the local SUPER super market.
Had to work extra hard to bring you this one, as you can imagine.
...um, what are they trying to say?


Thursday, August 26, 2010

Blind Masseuses, Dwarf Kingdoms, Mystery Meals, and Ten Days of Traffic

On Monday I went with Maria, from Spain, and Erin, from Canada, to get massages at the parlor across the street from the school.  Paying someone I don't know to give me a massage isn't something I've done all that often (ever??) in the states, partially because of the cost but also because I'm fortunate enough to know people who are willing to give massages gratis, or at least for trade.

Parlors here are different though, so I thought I'd give it a try.  First of all, in China it is very common for the masseuses to be either blind or have severe eye problems.  As odd as it may sound to say "I got a blind massage," that's essentially what it was.  It seems that the society here is much less forgiving of people with differences than that of America.

In many cases, one of the best jobs a blind person could hope to have is to be a masseuse...As unfortunate as that is, if you think about it, it kind of makes sense on some level--with the loss of sight comes a keener perception of touch.  It's just too bad that being disabled here doesn't leave people with many options, other than becoming a beggar on the street.

Despite my discomfort at treating a massage given by a blind person as some kind of specialty, I really did appreciate it.  The second reason I decided to try it was purely economic: 40 yuan for 1 hour. 40 yuan?! That's less than $6! Oy!  I can't pass that up.  It'd almost feel like I was wasting money. Heh

First they had us sit down and soak our feet in a scalding bucket of water while they massaged our backs and necks.  Then they massaged our feet and legs for a while, which was really hard to sit through at times.  The idea of light touch seems foreign to them.  It was SOO HARD! I thought my back was going to break.  The other girls I was with told me to stick it out though because after it was over it'd be so worth it.  They were completely right.  :-)

Kingdom of the Dwarfs, Kunming, China
While we were getting our massages, we got to talking about other ways people with disabilities are treated here.  Erin told us about a place in Kunming called Kingdom of the Dwarfs, which is exactly what it's name suggests.

The rule there is that you have to be under 4'3'' to live in the village, which is built to scale.  The place is made up of 120 dwarfs who live and work there, singing and dancing for tourists for their income.  Despite the enormous amount of humanitarian outrage at kingdoms like these all over China, many of the dwarfs report that they love living there because it's the only job opportunity they will get, provides a community, and opens up the possibility of marriage and friendship with others who are going through the same struggles.

Honestly no matter what people who live there might say, the idea of this village sickens me.  I am so used the outlook back home, where many people go to great lengths to help disabled people live as normal a life as possible, never to isolate them and leave them to become some kind of kitschy icon.  This village is basically the opposite!--dwarfs putting on singing and dancing shows for tourists, and making a living simply due to the fact that they are very small, and people find that amusing.  This is clearly one of the many astronomical cultural differences that foreigners (or is it just me?) have a hard time understanding.  I heard they have similar villages for overweight people, those with gigantism, and the same for many other disabilities.

That night I went out to a bar called Aoma Bar with John (from Holland), Mark (UK), and Pete (UK).  They're all fun to hang out with and super funny.  John is so tall, he bangs his head on even the highest door frames.  I think he said he was 6'5!

By far our most discussed topic is of the many differences between life here versus in our respective countries.  This time we compared death witness stories (apparently in the UK everything is under-wraps.).  I told mine about the shooting at this year's pink parade before gay pride.

After hanging out at the bar for about two hours, we were all hungry so we headed over to this noodle restaurant right next door that specializes in Across-the-Bridge noodles, a Kunming noodle-soup specialty.

Allegedly the dish got it's name after a scholar moved to a distant town to prepare for his imperial exam.  His loving wife would travel to see him across a nearby bridge with a bowl of this dish to give to her husband each day.  When the scholar did well on the exam, he attributed his success to his wife's noodles.  Awww, sweet story.
My very own bowl of Across-the-Bridge Noodles

In contrast to this story, our experience there proved less than delectable.  As is usually the problem when I've gone to restaurants here, ordering was the hardest part. This one in particular was extremely inaccessible to foreigners as not only was the entire menu in Chinese with no pictures anywhere, but you also had to order at a counter away from the eating area, so you couldn't easily point to someone else's dish and say "Wo yao ji ge" (I want this one).

The man at the counter immediately picked up on our dilemma and tried to help us by simply offering meals in various price ranges, since that's the one thing many beginning Chinese speakers can actually understand.  He offered us a range of whether we wanted to buy the meal that was 10 kuai, 20, 40, 60, or 100 kuai per person.  Thinking it didn't make much difference which we chose (since we wouldn't know what was coming anyways), I decided on the 40 kuai/person meal (about $6).  That price is on the expensive end for China, but was in the middle of the prices he offered so I figured it couldn't be too bad.

We sat down and awaited our mystery meal.  It was a really odd experience, knowing that we had just ordered something but had absolutely NO idea what was in store for us.  When the waitress came, she toted bowls of noodle soup (so far so good!), followed by no less than 12 smaller dishes of various items that could be eaten in the soup.  Last was a big white bowl of........something.  We had no idea what.  It looked brown like meat, but upon touch it jiggled.  Hmmm.
Mystery Meal


Mystery Meat
We gave everything a fair try.  The majority of the mystery meal tasted great, except for this ....thing.....we couldn't figure out what it was, and it left a terrible after taste.  Guesses were that it might be kidney, or some kind of pancreas.

We left the place feeling embarrassed that we hadn't managed to finish even half of what we had ordered and silly that we had just spent so much more money than we had needed to.

The next day I asked my dad about the mystery meat.  He is generally pretty knowledgeable when it comes to food, especially Chinese food.
"It was brown and jiggly and soaked in reddish brownish sauce," I described. "Kind of like the consistency of jello, but savory and gross."

He suggested that the dish might have been congealed and cubed pig's blood, a highly sought-after Chinese specialty. I entered "pigs blood" into my google search bar, to find pictures of the exact same dish I had just eaten. Aaaah!  Blech! Live and learn, I guess.  Good thing I don't keep kosher.

Yesterday I was really hungry after class so I went over to this little bar/restaurant by the school and ordered a strawberry smoothie and a fruit salad.  The waitress said that they had run out of strawberry.  I quickly scanned the menu for the list of other flavors, an action to which my waitress responded by informing me that they were also out of banana, mango, and apple. That's four out of the five flavors!...So that just left me with papaya.  I decided to skip the smoothie altogether, since I don't much care for papaya.

Funny thing is I had already ordered the fruit salad without any complaints from the waitress.  At this point I was really curious as to what on earth could possibly be in it if they really were out of all the items she had said.  When it came, it turned out to be made up of apple-pear, papaya, and ...BANANA!  huhhhh???  The waitress just said they were out of that! I was so amused I took a picture of it (see below).  Also had sweet mayonnaise on it, something I could have done without.  :-P

I see you, banana.
After I got home I told Pete about my experience.  He said that he went to the same place and ordered a cup of black coffee with Baileys in it the other day.  They told him they were out of both of those items, and that all they had left in terms of coffee were lattes and cappuccinos.  Haha!  How the heck are they making lattes with no coffee?!

Pete said he argued with them, convincing them that they must have black coffee until they broke down and "found some."  His theory is that they are trying to get confused foreigners to buy more expensive drinks, which makes complete sense to me in his case.  I still can't find a reasonable explanation for my smoothie experience, except that maybe papaya is cheaper to buy here than all the other fruits they "offer?"  Puzzling.

In all I'm definitely developing a healthy social life here, even on weekdays, despite having to wake up for class at 7:30am.  Last night I went to the Hump Bar again with Pete, John, and Mark.  As usual we compared lots of stories from our home countries, but our main topic tonight was drinking games.  It turns out they don't play Beer Pong or Flip Cup in the UK, nor do they in Holland!  I explained the games to them, then taught them turrets and Battleship, two of my all-time favorites.

I have to say...some of the differences in the ways Americans speak English versus the way Brits do are very confusing:  So the word "Buoy," like...the floating thing out in the sea...the British pronounce that word as "boy."  When I heard this I gave the argument that the American pronunciation "boo-ee" is way more practical and could save lives--what if there's a boy drowning out in the sea but people get confused when someone runs over and tells them "Hey, there's a boy really far out in the water!" People would look at him like he's an idiot.  "Duh there's a buoy, there are lot's of them. Haven't you ever been to the ocean before?"  Yeah sure, sure, context clues blablabla.  But I'm just sayin'...

Last piece of news:
At lunch today I heard there was a 10-day, 60-mile traffic jam from Beijing to inner Mongolia!  The media is reporting that it was the biggest/longest traffic jam ever.  It started on the Beijing-Tibet expressway on August 14th, and was aggravated by road maintenance along the way.  Not surprisingly, local merchants made a fortune capitalizing off of stranded drivers by selling food and drinks to them on the road at inflated prices.  Drivers were only able to move a third of a mile in a day. ...and we thought Los Angeles was bad.  Oy gevalt!

Sign outside the bathroom at The Hump Bar.
Good thing it's there too,
or I wouldn't have known that I shouldn't discard my boxers in the toilet,
torture someone in the restroom,
 or pee outside of the (nonexistent) toilet bowl.