Tomb Sweeping

I mentioned in my last blog that my schedule has been choc-a-bloc.  Well, something had to give.  After a few weeks of juggling teaching, education, my new hobbies and sightseeing, I realised that I was trying to do too much at once.  As a consequence I’ve stopped my Mandarin lessons at Global Village on Tuesday and Thursday.  However, I’ve paid the school ¥1000 (£100), which equates to 40 hours worth of lessons, and so far I’ve had less than half of those.  I was hesitant to ask for a refund, because I don’t think China is big on the Western “We want you to be satisfied with your purchase.  If you’re not, then we’ll give you a 100% refund guaranteed” policy.  Instead I’ve asked for private tuition; it’s a lot more expensive, meaning a lot less lessons, but it also saves me a 3 hour round trip going to the school.

This free time has been put to good use, as I’ve been able to review what I’ve learnt during the lessons at Global Village and also during the free lessons with Aston.  In effect I’m actually retaining more Mandarin than before.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a beginner (in every sense of the word), but transactional Chinese is becoming easier.  Buying groceries and directing taxis is less daunting.  Although, as well having to know the name of where you want to go, you also need to know the pronunciation.  Otherwise you leave your destination up to the interpretation of your given taxi driver at the time, as I found out the other day when I vacated a taxi before realising I didn’t have a clue where I was.

I’ve pretty much got the numbers down:

一 yī (one)

二 èr (two)

三 sān (three)

四 sì (four)

五 wǔ (five)

六 liù (six)

七 qī (seven)

八 bā (eight)

九 jiǔ (nine)

十 shí (ten)

When you’re buying something this can become complicated, or less complicated depending on how much effort you’re willing to put in.  The simplest way to go about buying, say 4 apples, would be to point, say “zhège” (this one) and “sì”.  The correct way to do this is to say “sì ge”, meaning four of that.  In turn then, it’d be wǔ ge, liù ge, qī ge (5/6/7 of that) and so on.  However, two is different.  The Chinese don’t say èr ge, but instead they say “Liǎng ge”.  I’m not entirely sure why; it may be similar to Westerners saying “a couple of” something, as opposed to two.

Regardless of whether you’re saying something correctly or not, the Chinese will sometimes still laugh at you.  Perhaps due to poor pronunciation, perhaps because of the fact you’re a Westerner or maybe because they didn’t expect you to be able to speak any Chinese at all.  And here is something else to be wary of: do not tell Chinese people you can speak a little Chinese, when you know that even “a little Chinese” is a vast stretch of the truth.  I’ve made this mistake twice now.  Mainly because within my first Chinese audiotape I was taught the phrase, “I can speak a little Chinese”.  Wow.  Each time I’ve said those words I’ve been bombarded with more Mandarin than I know what to do with.

The other day, hung over and not really caring what anyone thought of my pronunciation, I bought a bottle of water.  In Chinese, I said hello, I asked for the water and I said how much.  The Chinese woman replied slowly, “yī kuài wǔ”, which I casually repeated as I counted my money.  She was slightly surprised by the fact and I didn’t say “what?” and asked if I spoke Chinese.  I replied with, “wŏ bù huì shuō zhōng-wen”, which translates into English as, “I don’t speak Chinese”.  Obviously the conversation was simple, she understood everything I said and it left open the possibility that I might actually know a little bit more than I was letting on.  For now I’m much happier to do this, than to say, “oh yeah I know Chinese”.  Just to be thrown head first into a sea of unknown vocabulary and then at the end of the ordeal splutter an idiotic, “sorry, what?”

Another little gem worth mentioning: Chinese is in many ways a frustrating and difficult language to learn, because the tones can completely change the meaning of the word you’re using.  However, at times, it’s almost too simple.  For example, unlike English, their verbs don’t change depending on the past, present or future tense.  So played, playing and play would all stay as play.  Thus, yesterday I play, today I play, and, tomorrow I play.  There are also other very logical aspects to the language, like the fact they don’t have names for days or months, but just numbers: day one, day two or month one, month two etc.  And the numbers are extremely simple after 1-10.  Remember that “shí” is ten? Well 11 is shí yī, 12 is shí èr and 13 is shí sān. By the same token, 20 is èr shí, 21 is èr shí yī and 22 is èr shí èr.

The past week or so it’s been getting gradually warmer.  Living on the top floor of our apartment, Brian and I decided to see if it was possible to get out onto the rooftop.  As expected, access to the roof was extremely easy and the door was wide open.  The view from the rooftop is breathtaking, as is the lack of preventions in place to stop you falling off the edge; there is literally nothing there.  There is a small gap about two feet deep before the edge, which you can sort of sit in and look out of.  We’ve spoken to a few other Aston teachers about going up there for beers and a bbq in the full swing of the summer.  I’d be lying if I said the prospect of getting drunk next to a seven floor drop didn’t worry me slightly though.

Brian and I have continued to explore the city.  We’ve even been finding new things in areas we’ve already been too.  China loves its European bars, but even more so, it loves its German bars.  In fact, there’s one less than 5 minutes away from our apartment.  The only problem is the price of the European beers in the Europeans bars (Chinese beers are cheap almost everywhere), which aren’t necessarily expensive by European standards, but they are expensive by the standard of our living wage.  This brings me onto another key point, or rather, mistake: don’t compare what you’re buying to prices back home, but compare it to your living wage.  It’s taken me awhile to break this habit, and needless to say, I might need to budget slightly when I do eventually get my first paycheck next month.

The idea of budgeting isn’t helped by the discovery of new places like these.  Nor are they helped by the discovery of not just one new place, but two places simultaneously.  On Monday a small group of us found another German Bar near The Big Goose Pagoda, which just happened to have the nicest draft beers we’ve had since arriving.  We sat outside drinking in the sun, and after a couple of points we came to the realization that we were also sitting opposite a curry house.  Well, if were amazed by the standard of the beer in this pub, then we were even more dumbstruck by the quality of the Indian food in the restaurant.  The curry house was filled with other Westerners and many of the staff were from India, speaking perfect English.  We even got to use a knife and fork … for the first time in a long time.  It was a welcome change because we’re constantly laughed at by the CTs for our chopstick skills.  So, on this rare occasion, the tables turned.

Coming up is China’s National Tomb Sweeping Holiday, referred to in China as Qīngmíng Jié.  In all honesty I’m ashamed to say I know very little about this holiday, except for the fact I have Saturday and Sunday off teaching because of it.  If I’m not mistaken, this is a time for the Chinese to remember deceased loved ones by visiting their graves, paying respects, offering gifts and, well, sweeping tombs.  As you can see, I definitely need to do more research in this area.

Anyway, as a result of this holiday, schools and businesses close.  The schools close during the week and the students are then expected to make up this time up over the weekend.  Hence why Aston is closed.  Due to a distinct lack of holidays over the course of my six-month stay here (one weekend off), Brian, myself and two other teachers have decided to use this as an excuse to go to Shanghai.  Originally we attempted to purchase tickets for an overnight train on the Friday after work, because we’d be sleeping whilst travelling, we’d be saving money on planes/hostels and it’d be another slightly surreal Chinese experience.  However, because of our “last minute” idea, the trains were sold out and we’ve had to spend a lot more than we wanted on flights. 

At the end of the day though, if we don’t grasp opportunities like these, we won’t see very much at all!  I’ll report back in a week or so on my Shanghai experience!

Settling in. Well, sort of.

So I broke Carol’s golden rule: don’t get drunk in China; it was quite hard not to.  It was one of my first nights out, and for other teachers it was their last night out, because they were leaving Aston, and Xi’an.  I was thrust into the swing of things and taken to “The Belgium Bar”, where people were buying rounds of Tsingtao at 6 for 60 kuai (6 for £6).  At those prices becoming intoxicated became inevitable.  Several rounds later the Aston teachers began eyeing up the spirits menu and asked what we would all like to split between us.  Due to the exchange rate and the prices of spirits here more generally, it’s the first time in my life I’ve ever been able to seriously contemplate an answer to that question.

The night continued, moving onto “Yi-Jiā-Yi” (one + one) - a nightclub in the center of Xi’an.  Clubbing in Xi’an seemed to draw even greater attention to the large group of Westerners, with people approaching you, wanting to buy you a drink or even just dance.  The evening was almost surreal, as people (men and women) surrounded you on the dance floor.  It didn’t even matter how you danced, because regardless, people were impressed.  There was even a point where people were forming a circle around you to watch you dance and then show you their own (and usually much more impressive) dance moves.

The evening seemed to fall apart from here.  The group (or at least the remnants of it) decided to go to “KTV”.  KTV is infamous in Xi’an (and perhaps the whole of China); KTV is everywhere.  There seems to be as many KTVs here as there are McDonalds in New York; they’re in abundance, to say the least.  So what is KTV?  It stands for Karaoke Television.  Basically, you purchase a room, you have a few drinks and you sing the night away.  The Chinese absolutely love singing at KTV, but there’s one thing they love even more: a Westerner singing at KTV.  Or so I’m told, because as it happens, we didn’t make it to the infamous KTV.  Nor have I been since the very evening I’m describing (which was awhile now).

So the night came to an abrupt end, as did my sleep the next morning when my phone went off.  Gingerly I picked up, greeted by the news that I could move into my new apartment.  I was ecstatic to after living in my hotel room for over a week, or “the box” as I came to know it.  I went to the school and my new housemate, Brian, greeted me.  Brian’s Irish and pretty down to earth.  He has got one major fault though: he’s a vegetarian, but hey, we can’t all be perfect right?

Eventually, we made it to our apartment.  After an hour it became evident that Xi’anese taxi drivers don’t like the idea of picking up two Westerners with a lot of luggage.  So with the help of two CTs (Chinese English Teachers) from Aston, we were escorted to our apartment by bus.  I felt quite bad for the two female CTs on arrival to the entrance of our apartment, because they made the mistake of offering to carry our hand luggage … up to our flat … on the 7^th floor … and there’s no lift … and our hand luggage was massive. I don’t think they’ll be repeating that offer in a hurry.

The apartment is alright.  In fact, by Chinese standards it's pretty good.  By Western standards it's functional.  By my standards it's basically student accommodation all over again.

The same evening Brian and I explored the area.  We’re living outside of Xi’an’s city walls, which you can actually walk/cycle around, whilst overlooking the city center.  Wanting to try the local cuisine we eat out, and Brian introduced to me tofu, or “dòufu”. Dòufu was a pleasant surprise and it’s something I’ve eaten quite a few times since.  In China there’s a variety of dòufu; I am slightly hesitant to try “smelly” dòufu (apparently smelly is an understatement). 

We’ve become extremely happy with this location for a number of reasons.  Firstly, as the area is outside of the city center, we’re able to experience more of the “local” Xi’an.  By local, I mean that there is a multitude of fruit and veg stalls, and also tiny, family run bbq-type-restaurants, which spill out onto the pavements as the summer approaches.  Secondly, all the flats within the city walls become inaccessible after 11 p.m. due to curfews (unless you bribe the guard at the gate); those outside of the city walls do not suffer the same deadlines.  Thirdly, Aston has four schools located in Xi’an, and ours is Aston three, which is both newer and nicer than Aston one.

On top of teaching, lesson planning and the occasional night out, my schedule has become jam packed with other new hobbies.  These include Mandarin lessons at a school named Global Village, free Mandarin lessons at Aston, going to the gym, one-on-one kickboxing sessions and exploring what Xi’an has to offer.  Hopefully this provides a slight excuse as to the delay of this blog, as I'm struggling to find a spare moment.

As it stands, this is my timetable:

Monday – This day is completely free.  Generally, it is spent lying in from teaching over the weekend/the night before.  Sometimes I’ll also go to the gym, do a food shop, or go sightseeing with Brian and other teachers.

Tuesday – Wake up at 7:30.  Leave the house at 8:00.  Arrive at Global Village for Mandarin lessons from 9:30-12:30.  Afterwards go to the gym or have a kickboxing lesson, which means I eventually get home between 4-5, exhausted.

Wednesday  - Wake up at 9:00.  Leave the house for 9:40.  Arrive at Aston 3 for the Mandarin lessons 10-12:00 and then gym or kickboxing again in the afternoon.  Possibly start lesson planning for the weekend.

Thursday – Repeat of Tuesday.  Plus lesson planning.

Friday – Repeat of Wednesday.  Plus meetings at the school and then I begin my weekend of teaching from 17:15-21:15.

Saturday – Teaching begins at 8:00 and finishes at 18:30.  Sometimes I go out for food with other teachers afterwards.

Sunday – Teaching schedule is similar to Saturday, starting at 8:00 and finishing at 18:30.  After a very demanding weekend of teaching all Aston teachers go out for drinks.

As you can see, this schedule means I’m on the go 24/7, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.  The 23-hour contract that Aston has provided me is ideal, because it allows me to do exactly what I want during the week.  When I get paid next month, I can continue to keep up this grueling schedule, or I could take a break and go travelling.  On a Sunday when I finish I could get an overnight train and be in Shanghai, Beijing or Hong Kong by the morning.  Basically, with this contract, China and all it has to offer is completely open to me.  Moreover, Xi’an’s central location is close to perfect, because it allows me to choose a variety places to visit, without having to worry (for the most part) about where I want to go.

In terms of sightseeing thus far, we’ve explored a lot and yet very little of what Xi’an has to offer.  So far we’ve been to The Bell Tower, The Drum Tower, The Muslim Quarter and the fountain show at The Big Goose Pagoda. 

The Bell Tower and The Drum Tower are unmistakable due to their size and location.  The Bell Tower sits in the center of Xi’an on a roundabout, which is connected to the North, East, South and West streets.  The Drum Tower is close by and The Muslim Quarter is adjacent to this.  From the towers you can see a great deal of Xi’an’s traditional architecture, which is strangely juxtaposed with an array of shops and modern, overbearing shopping malls.  The Muslim Quarter has a lot to offer, especially in terms of food.  The meat in the area is some of the best in Xi’an (sometimes it’s difficult to know what type of meat you’re eating), but the quarter also offers something else: sweets. 

A view of The Drum Tower from The Bell Tower

Brian at The Bell Tower

Chinese sweets have grown on me at an alarming pace.  They’re sweetened far more naturally and quite often with honey; they taste completely different and are, in many ways, nicer than Western confectionary.  Needless to say we tried and stocked up on a lot of new foods here.  Buying things can still be difficult, as the Chinese don’t necessarily always accommodate the pace of their speech for Westerners.  What’s more, they only count from 1-10 on one hand, using symbols for 6-10.  As if Mandarin wasn’t hard enough. 

Looking around the Muslim quarter (see top photo), you can sometimes spot the odd foreigner, maybe more so than in the rest of the Xi’an.  Yet it’s still abundantly clear that you are a minority in this strange country, and that realisation still hits me from time to time.

The fountain show at The Big Goose Pagoda was simple and elegant.  It’s the biggest fountain show in the whole of Asia, and on the face of it, I wasn’t expecting much.  The assortments of fountains start off slowly, growing bigger and changing pace with the music.  The music is a mixture of traditional Chinese music and classical Western music.  It definitely plays its part.  We were taken here by some of the CTs from the school, and to them the evening was probably mediocre, because the fountain show is on every evening at the same time.  For me it was awesome to watch, as it was another small reminder of where I am.

Oh, and the teaching side of it.  Well, I’ve actually surprised myself. The first weekend of teaching was, as expected, extremely nerve racking and difficult.  The first weekend was an enormous low point, but luckily that weekend was followed by the first night out that I discussed at the beginning.  The second weekend I felt anxious, with some lessons going well, and others, well, not so great.  The third weekend I actually enjoyed it, which meant the kids enjoyed it. 

During my CELTA I came to the realization that the atmosphere in the classroom is largely dependent on you.  What I didn’t realise was just how much you and your students bounce off of each other; your mood and manner influences there’s and vice versa.  Basically, if you can bring yourself to enjoy teaching, the kids will enjoy learning (most of the time!).  My girlfriend always knew she wanted to be a teacher, and this is something you can spot the moment you meet her, because she has one of “those” personalities.  For me, teaching was something I had to adapt to and learn, and that’s not something you can simply gain from a weekend TEFL, or even a four-week CELTA.  It’s like learning to drive: the real experience comes when it’s just you in the car.

Down the rabbit hole...

(This blog was written during my first days in Xi'an, but due to problems with the internet and blogspot being blocked, I've only just managed to post it.  I'll provide another update of the last couple of weeks in the next few days.)

I’m going to apologise now if I overuse the following words: strange, weird, foreign and alien.  Only because that particular lexis is very much reflective of my experience so far…

I arrived in China on 21/2/12.  The last couple of days building up to my arrival were some of the hardest and most nerve racking of my entire life.  Not only because I’d be adjusting to a new culture, but also because I’d be facing the prospect of teaching English to kids, with about 6 hours worth of teaching experience under my belt (6 hours of teaching experience involving adults).  I repeatedly joke with my family, “Is it too late to change my mind? Yes? Ok then.”  My anxiousness became clearly evident as my journey drew close.  It may as well have been scrawled across my face.

Boarding the plane to Beijing, a nearby passenger could see my expression and asked if it was my first time.  Her name was Carol and she was a teacher of English and American Literature at a university in China.  She was extremely friendly, kind and reassuring.  I appreciated her advice above all else because, at the end of the day, she had been to the country and new what I was letting myself in for.  She told me what I wanted to hear, but also what I needed to hear.  There was one piece of advice in particular that stuck with me: don’t get drunk.  Now, having just graduated, I haven’t completely left my student mentality behind.  She warned me that getting drunk in China, as a Westerner, is sometimes an extremely stupid thing to do.  If something goes wrong, more often than not, it will be your fault.  In effect, you’ll either be arrested, deported, who knows.  That was a sobering thought.

On approach to Beijing Carol asked me if I’d like her to accompany me to my gate.  I know I came across as scared, but still, I’m an adult and I can look after myself.  Just to be on the safe side though, I accepted her offer.  Better to be safe than sorry right?

We arrived at Beijing and the transfer was a lot smoother than I had expected; underneath all the Mandarin instructions there was English.  I was also worried about transferring not only due to the potential language barrier, but also because I had to go through the process of collecting my luggage and checking in again.  Once when I was 15 years old, travelling with a friend, I had to do this in JFK airport on my way to New Zealand.  Due to some mistakes filling out the arrivals card, the bustling environment and the nature of the people we were dealing with, we missed our connecting flight.  Eventually someone was kind enough to help the two foreign, stranded teenagers, and after running to another terminal we just managed to board an alternative plane in time.

Carol kindly left me at my gate, where I had a couple of hours before my second departure. I expected Beijing to be much, much busier, considering it’s the airport for the capital of the most populace country in the entire world.  And yet open space, empty seats and a distinct scarcity was what surrounded me.  This can’t be Beijing. This can’t be China.  I soon realised it only felt this way because the airport itself was grandiose; its exteriors seemed to be made entirely of glass, the ceilings were extremely high and the structure seemed to stretch for miles.  Staring through the windows I was struck by the sky and the prominent, murky, greyness.  At first I couldn’t tell if it was the weather, or if it was the pollution that gave it this tinge (it soon became clear it was the latter).

I boarded my plane to Xi’an and that was when I had the biggest shock of this experience to date.  I sat down towards the back of the plane, and then, taking in my surroundings, I could only see jet black hair above all the headrests.  I’m a minority, which I know shouldn’t have surprised me.  If anything I expected it, but you can’t control a reaction like that.  At that moment I couldn’t help but let some doubt creep into my mind.  I’ve been brought up in, and have only really experienced, Western society.  I’d been to Bali as a child, but it’s something I barely remember, and it was an age where you couldn’t fully appreciate the culture around you.  I wanted an alien experience, and right then I knew I was getting exactly what I asked for.

I stepped off the plane in Xi’an, where John and Brianna met me, as promised by the school.  They were both teachers, American and very informative.  Stepping out of the airport, I was once again hit by the pollution in the air, or by the fact you could basically taste it.  I’d compare breathing this air to very, very slowly smoking a cigarette.  When you breathe in the smoke from the tobacco, you can sometimes feel what your inhaling tickling your throat, which is caused by the burning of the tiny hairs inside your windpipe.  I have a similar sensation breathing the air in Xi’an, and like the first time I ever smoked, it makes me feel like I need to cough.  Last night I even woke up with a headache, which I think was due to the fact my throat had become extremely tight.

We were driven to Aston in Xi’an, about 40 minutes away from the airport.  The way people drive here is, well, as expected I guess.  From the outside it appears unworkable, ridiculous and extremely dangerous.  The logic involves driving through the smallest gaps, ignoring all zebra crossings and cutting across incoming traffic if it’s in anyway possible to do so.  The weird thing is though, from what I’ve seen so far, they seem to make it work.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to tour China in a Tuc-Tuc, because I actually value my life.  I do, however, feel relatively comfortable in a taxi, despite the nation’s driving tendencies.  I’m not entirely sure why.  Perhaps it’s ignorance, perhaps it’s because there’s so much traffic they can barely move at a speed that’d give you whiplash, or perhaps it’s because here it’s just normal.  Either way, I’d never drive here.

John and Brianna showed me around the school and to my hotel, which happened to be adjacent to each other.  Looking at the hotel, well, you wouldn’t know it was there.  The ground floor has three people dressed all in black, sitting behind desks, in front of shelves filled sporadically with food available to purchase.  The hotel lobby is actually on the 5^th floor, and my room is on the top floor.  The hotel room was nothing short of a massive disappointment; it’s tiny, it stinks of what I think/hope is mould and it doesn’t have any windows.  I feel the lack of natural light has definitely played a large part in impairing my ability to adjust quickly to the jet lag, as I’ve been falling asleep far too early every day so far.

We swiftly left the hotel and John and Brianna took the time to lead me to a nearby hostel, where we eat a pizza, drunk beer and played a Chinese drinking game involving dice.  The aim was to try and teach me the numbers 1-10 in Mandarin, but due to some heavy jet lag I only managed 1-7, which may have hindered me slightly.  We couldn’t stay long as I was due to for a medical check up the following day, which is mandatory in China for any potential foreign workers.  The hostel workers were also trying to sell us more beer, which definitely wasn’t allowed as I couldn’t eat or drink up to 12 hours before the check up, and I’m pretty sure it was in 10 hours.

I lead the way (best I could) back to the hotel, which was difficult in Xi’an as the streets were ridiculously busy.  Xi’an seemed, to me, to be busier than London.  I should know too, having only been there a few days before to sort out the visa.

The following day I got up for the medical appointment, where I was poked, prodded, scanned, the lot.  They even asked if I’d ever had any problems with my ribs, because (as I later found out) one happens to be bigger than the other.  I was taken to the hospital with another new teacher named Barbara, by a teacher’s aid named Cathy.  Cathy is about 5ft, extremely friendly and like a tiny ball of energy, waving at you frantically whenever she sees you.  Barbara is originally from Uganda, but has been brought up in London.  She told me that she’s been in a relationship with her boyfriend from back home for over nine years, and that he was willing to come out and live in China, if she wanted to extend her contract past its six month expiration date.  I was glad to hear I wasn’t the only person in a relationship embarking on this experience, and I think she was too.  We both laughed about the number of times we’d heard the questions concerning what we’d do with our other half once we’d left, as if everything would just come to a grinding halt.

After the hospital I went back to the hotel to form a plan for the day.  So, basically I fell asleep at 11 a.m. and woke up at 2 a.m. ... Nice one.

The following morning I left the hotel at about 7 a.m. and I had another one of those experiences that really struck me.  Despite the swarm of people in Xi’an’s streets the previous evening, the city was now the complete polar opposite.  Hardly anyone was up at that time, in comparison to before at least.  Even London is still busy at 7 a.m.; it doesn’t just die down.  I could also hear what sounded like an ice-cream van coming towards me, playing what sounded like a Christmas carol.  Except it wasn’t an ice cream van at all… It was a rubbish truck playing “Santa Clause is coming to town”.  I wandered round trying to find a place to eat, but almost everywhere was still closed, except for a few venders on the street.

Eventually I found a Starbucks, where I ordered an egg and bacon panini.  Apparently egg doesn’t translate well into Mandarin as this was a cheese and bacon panini, with some weird, sweet purple stuff in.  It must have been OK though as I had another one today.  I sat by the window in Starbucks, where I stared at passers by and they stared back at the Westerner eating his ill-described food.  People were outside on the streets doing Tai-Chi, some were even jogging into work in their work clothes, but I couldn’t tell if this was because they wanted to or if it was because they were late.  In the UK this would only ever be due to the latter.  One guy, carrying a plastic bag in one hand, was even running backwards, turning his head when he deemed it necessary, so as to ensure he wasn’t going to hit anybody.

Afterwards I found a nearby Wal-Mart, which was difficult to shop in, as almost everything was written in Mandarin.  Some brands were recognisable, such as Lays (the American version of Walkers).  However, the flavours were not.  Numb and sour, lemon and thyme, and some fish varieties too, just to name a few.  I ended up buying crisps, bread, peanut butter, cutlery and water.  I forgot to mention that water is essential here, as you can’t drink the tap water, due to the pollution.

Later I met my American manager, Tom.  I’d heard his Mandarin was profound, which quickly became evident when he casually dropped it into side conversations with his Chinese colleagues.  Hopefully I’ll be that good in six months.  I can always dream.  After this meeting I went back to the hotel, and once again I fell asleep far too early.

The next day I was up early again to go to the police station with Cathy and another family, in order to get the process for my resident’s permit started.  The family was an interesting concoction of nationalities: Kiwi, Ausi and Chinese.  The Kiwi father had previously lived in Australia, where he met his Ausi wife and where they had also adopted their three Chinese children.  The children had been Australia long enough to lose much of their original heritage, however, so they could no longer speak Mandarin and also had Australian accents.  Apparently this played part of their reason for coming to China, as they wanted their children to try and rediscover/reconnect with their roots.  Due to the ethnicity of the children, many of the Chinese people had been approaching them and speaking to them in Chinese, expecting them to respond in kind.

I went for lunch with the family and tried my first bit of authentic, local Chinese cuisine.  We had dumplings.  No, let me rephrase that: we accidentally ordered five plates of dumplings.  I still don’t know whether they had tricked us on purpose or whether this was an accident, but either way the food was nice.  With the dumplings came hoi sin and chilli sauce, broccoli and pork with chillies.  Overall it was nice, but I don’t think I’ll have dumplings again for a little while.

I’m missing everyone at home, but simultaneously, I’m also adjusting to the culture shock, and in many ways, enjoying the transition.