April 4th: Settlers and Baozi

First of all, happy Easter to everyone!  As I mentioned in another post, I celebrated during the week by dying eggs in front of my students in class.  Of course, Easter is not a holiday here, but it just happened to conincide this year with a three-day weekend anyhow!  Tomorrow, Monday, is the Qingming Festival, which is usually translated "Tomb-Sweeping Day."  It was the custom since ancient times to go out on this day and clean the cemeteries to honor to memory of the dead.  It seems to me to be something like our Memorial Day nowadays.  Anyhow, I don't have to teach tomorrow. 

This afternoon, I went over to Tabby and Casey's to hang out for a while. There were quite a few people there when I arrived, and we had a good time singing some songs together, and Casey told us a story about a man named Job.  Finally, most people left to go find supper elsewhere, but a few of us stayed.  Evelyn had brought some soup, and after we'd eaten we settled in for a round of Settlers of Catan.  We drew cards--red and black--to decide how to split up eight people into two tables.  I played the first game against Tabby, Evelyn, and Lee.  Although it was only my second time to play, I managed to just barely beat Tabby to the longest road points and won.  The game is a little complicated at first, but now that I have the hang of it I really like it.  We played again, and this time I was against Tabby, Casey, and Jordan, with Casey winning that round.  Mr. Wong won both rounds at the other table.  Mr. Wong openly admits he's gotten addicted to the game; he certainly plays enthusiastically.  He'd gladly play all evening, or at least until his wife calls and fusses because he's still not home. 

After we finished playing and talking, I walked out to the road with Ron and Evelyn.  Before catching a taxi, I decided to stop and get some take-out food from one of the restaurants near the city gate.  I really need to go grocery shopping, and I knew I didn't have much around the house to eat tomorrow otherwise.  Ron had stopped to buy some boiled peanuts, so while Evelyn and I were waiting near the street I saw a booth where a man and woman were making baozi.  The restaurant was on the corner, and in front all the tables and stools had been set out on the sidewalk to enjoy the spring weather.  Around the side, the baozi-making station was against the wall, and a grilling area was closer to the street.  Baozi are a type of dumpling made with a thin piece of dough which is stuffed (in my case, with a mixture of ground pork and spiced cabbage, although there are many other types, too) and then folded and crimped.  The dumplings are loaded into shallow wooden trays, which are stacked and then put over a steamer to cook.  The resulting smell is wonderful.

The waitress who was helping me didn't speak any English, but I managed to get her to understand by pointing to the baozi cooking station that I wanted some, and that I wanted enough for only one person.  I tried to use charades to get her to understand that I would prefer them to go--they had styrofoam boxes waiting.  She directed me to a nearby table to wait.  She had a teenage busboy come by and tell me 'wait five minutes!' Apparently a foreigner buying baozi was a novelty; all the waitresses and busboys came by to see me; at one point, I had a crowd of at least ten people gathered around me.  The waitress and a busboy working together remembered the English word for 'ten' to tell me the price.  A bit later one of the busboys ran back inside the restaurant and came back out and said, "pack?...'p'..'a'..'c'..'k'?"  He spelled it out in case he'd mispronounced it.  Yes, I want them packed! Great!   After a bit of a wait (longer than the five minutes originally predicted), I was presented with a bag with two cartons of baozi. 

I hopped into a taxi at the curb, and thankfully my pronunciation of my home campus's name seems to have improved.  The driver understood me immediately; often before I've had to repeat it a few times before the driver could understand for sure where exactly I wanted to go.  I tried out a couple of the baozi once I got home; I took a picture so you could see what I'm talking about.  The other picture isn't mine, but I found it online to show you what the steaming looks like.  The baozi are pretty good, although the spice is a bit unusual to me.  I hope that the rest will be good warmed up! 

April 3rd: The Joys of Chinglish

English is commonly accepted in the world as the lingua franca--the common language that reaches across cultural divides.  I am sometimes surprised that as many things are labeled in English as there are--most of the packages of things that I buy have Chinese on one side and English on the other.  Wal-mart even somewhat helpfully provides English labels above the produce...I say somewhat, becomes sometimes the labels are wrong or vague, and no one knows it.

However, sometimes the use of English fails to bridge the communication gap.  The first picture is of a donut I passed in the bakery section at Wal-mart last Sunday afternoon.  It looked okay until I read the label...I have no idea what is actually in it.  The second picture I took on one of the first days on campus; it's a label next to the closed door of a classroom in the medical department.  Speaking of weird English, the spell check on this blog tells me that 'donut' is not a word, but 'donuts' is.  I guess you can't stop with just one...

April 2: A Good Day to Live in China

Fridays are my busy day...I have three classes; I teach two back to back at eight and ten, then have a bit of a breather at lunch, and then another at two.  After coming in and getting comfortable at home over lunch, I don't want to get myself together and head out again for that third class, but I'm always glad that I did once I'm there.  The afternoon class is one of my friendliest and most open; the Friday afternoon atmosphere helps, I think.  My feet sure hurt after standing in front of a classroom all day, though.  I have a heel spur I'm dealing with right now that is not helping matters.

In the evening, I decided to go out to find some supper.  I've been in a cooking mood all week, so I had exhausted my supplies, and besides, wasn't in the mood to make a mess again.  Just across from the East Gate of the campus are a row of little restaurants, each with six or seven tables inside.  The ones that face the university have their kitchens outside--an open flaming grill with woks ready, and racks of vegetables and chopped ingredients just waiting to be cooked up fresh whenever you order.  There are free-standing booths cooking up street food or take-out options--skewered sticks of meat and vegetables, cartons of noodles with various spices and vegetables added.  The restaurants around the corner have their kitchens in the back, down hallways into the interior of the building.  At first, to an American used to our shiny sterile kitchens, it seems a little dirty and wild, but the food is wonderful and I've never heard of anyone getting sick from the food there.  Everything that I've had reminds me of why I will miss Chinese food whenever the time comes to move on from here.

I stopped into one of the little places facing the gate; I picked it because as I was threading my way through the booths and kitchens, one of the cooks smiled at me and motioned that I was welcome to come in.  I was ushered inside, and sat down on the stool at one of the tables.  I ordered stewed eggplant; I've had eggplant cooked every way imaginable since I've been here and it's always good.  When the plate of eggplant was ready, the waitress brought me a bowl of rice from the huge wooden rice cooker near the door, and motioned that if I wanted more I was welcome to help myself.  So often, even if you don't understand a language you can get along--people are usually saying what you would imagine they would say, and gestures and body language communicate many things.  I ate my eggplant and rice slowly as I read a book.  One of the older ladies sitting in the shop watching TV (it was late and their weren't many customers, or else she would have been helping to serve) watched me off and on as I ate; seeing I was a foreigner, she offered me a spoon if I wanted it since foreigners sometimes have a bit of trouble with chopsticks.  I waved it off, though.  The chopsticks don't bother me.  I did wish I could explain to her that I wasn't eating slowly because I had difficulty with chopsticks, but because I was in no hurry and wanted to enjoy my food slowly as I read.  A lot of the people here do have a curiosity about foreigners and chopsticks...I've asked for questions from students a few times, and one of the first that comes up is "Can you use chopsticks?"

After I left the restaurant, I stopped by a small grocery store across the road.  Late in the evening on a Friday, it was packed, mostly with students. Here in China, I stand out everywhere I got.  I look like no one anyone has ever known; my hair, my eyes, my height (I can't think of any women taller than me), the way I dress--all are different.  I'm growing used to rounding the corner in the grocery store and getting suprised looks.  Often people openly stare; people with children excitedly nudge their children to look at the unusual sight--a waiguoren (foreigner).  Anyhow, I bought some bell peppers, orange juice, and cookies.  On my way back to the campus gate, I passed by the fruit stands and bought some bananas.

So, a busy day of work, a supper of eggplant and rice, and buying fruit at nine at night as I threaded my way through the brightly lit stalls--a good day to live in China.  As I entered the East Gate, I admired the lights reflecting in the motionless water of the decorative pond.  As I neared the pond, someone on the pathway on the other side began to play a flute...the music was beautiful and piercing in the dark; it was just the sort of music you would think of hearing on a Chinese night, the sort of thing you've heard on documentaries about China on the National Geographic channel.  I listened to the flute as I walked to my apartment, and I could still hear it out the window as I put my groceries away.

April 2nd: Fourth Week of Classes and Easter

Week four teaching sophomore writing:  We started out with our weekly journal assignment--What event or invention do you think has changed the world the most?  I'm looking forward to reading the students' ideas.  I got the chance in the next part of class to tell my own answer, although I'm sure most of the students didn't understand that connection. 

Holidays are a great thing for us foreign language teachers.  They are fun and easy to talk about, entertaining to the students, and provide a good base for cultural lessons.  Since Easter is Sunday, I spent some time in class explaining the holiday to my students.  They had heard of Easter before as they have studied English and western culture, so I tried to keep it interesting.  I brought in eggs and a mug of pink dye.  As I talked, I dyed an egg in each class.  I got a lot of 'ooohs' as I pulled out the finished hot-pink egg; after my last class of Friday, a few of the girls took pictures with their cell phones.  I wanted to do other colors, too, but I couldn't find the rest of my dye tablets.  I know I had them on Monday, but by Friday they were no where to be found.  However, I suppose it would have been difficult to juggle various cups of dye between classes, so maybe it was for the best. I also showed pictures of dyed eggs, the Easter bunny, Easter egg hunts, chocolate bunnies, and such.  I drew daffodils and chicks on the board with chalk.  I also explained that Easter in our culture has two meanings: the secular (new word for them) meaning--a celebration of spring and new life symbolized by pastel (another new word) colors, bunnies, chicks, eggs, and daffodils, as well as a religious meaning for many in the Christian world.  I know we celebrate Christ's resurrection all year and not only on one day, but it seemed a good opportunity to introduce the students to a little more of the story that is such an important part of our background in the U.S. 

With the time I had left in each class, I gave out playing cards to everyone.  In my teaching book, I have a list of questions that correspond to each card, so when I called out 'ace of diamonds' or 'eight of hearts' and such, whoever had the card had to answer.  It was a fun way to give the students a chance to talk a little.  I know it's a writing class, but the real need for these students is to hear and speak with a native language speaker.  They write fairly well, but rarely have an opportunity to have a real conversation--I want to work in some speaking time when I can. 

March 26th: Sunny Friday in Spring

It seemed like a perfect fall day as I wandered slowly home across campus today.  Yes, I know, it's spring now, not fall, but it was the kind of cool, breezy, yet crisply sunny day that felt a little more like October than rainy, pale March.  I even saw a few bright leaves on the sidewalk, remnants of last year's color that had managed to cling to the trees over the winter until the new buds of spring finally forced them to loose their hold.  It was a good day to be alive. Adding to the liveliness of the day, many of the students were in good spirits and out enjoying the sun as well.  The basketball and badminton courts were crowded, and the streets and sidewalks were a constant stream of friends walking arm in arm and bicycles drifting along in no hurry.

March 25th: The Perfect Shade of Green

I started painting my living room today!  I know, I know, I've had the paint a week now.  However, I got the paint on Thursday, and then Friday I had classes to teach all day, then Saturday I had to go grocery shopping and get other things done, then Sunday I had a meeting and then had to prepare for this week's classes, then Monday had class to teach and a women's group meeting, then Tuesday I decided to clean the house before starting a new project, then Wednesday I was ready to start! Except I couldn't get the can of paint open.  I searched my apartment for useful tools.  I needed a screwdriver, but I found nothing even similar.  A large butcher knife was the only even possible tool, and I couldn't get enough leverage with that without bending the blade.  So...I did laundry. 

Wednesday night, I went over to Tabby and Casey's house, and mentioned my dilemma.  Casey, it turns out, as a drawer of just such utensils as I needed.  He lent me a screwdriver, and also a hammer, which I almost didn't take.  However, it turned out that the hammer was exactly what was needed to pry that lid down. Goodness, they certainly didn't intend for anyone to get into it in a hurry! 

So, Thursday was the day.  I have a brush and a roller, and I started at around the doorway from the hallway, and painted the part of that wall not covered by the bookcase (I'll get around to seeing if I can move that behemoth later), the entire wall behind the TV, except a little part over the air conditioner that I can reach, and half of the wall with the door and window onto the sunroom.  It looked a little splotchy at first, but it dried perfectly.  It's perfect--exactly the color of green that I wanted! I'm one of those types whose whole mood can be affected by my surroundings; maybe it is a bit frivolous to put time and money into an apartment that I only plan to be in for a year, but I absolutely love taking a new place and making it home. Besides, this is the largest place I've ever lived in.  I had my room in my parents' house.  I had a dorm room.  I had a room at the Bible School in Florence.  I had a one-room studio apartment in Milan.  I actually have a separate bedroom and living room!  And a kitchen and a hallway and bathroom!  And a sunroom!  The last couple of weeks I've spent most of my time in the bedroom because I couldn't quite figure out to do with all the rest of this space, but I've moved my computer and all to the desk in the living room now.  It's such a novelty to have my own living room. :)  So, paint is great! I can't help but smile looking at the finished wall.

Speaking of smiling...Billy Wayne, do you remember that when I was telling you about the paint, you said I should paint a smiley face on the wall before painting over it?  Well...I did!  However, I'm not sure that was the greatest idea, because if you look at it in the right light, you can still see the face underneath...Oh, well, I'm going to hang something on the wall there, anyhow. :)

So, anyhow...green!!! 

March 21st: Smoggy Weather and Painting Drama

Hello everyone! Sorry, I’m already slipping at keeping this updated now that classes have started and things are going on. Feel free to send me a message to keep me on my toes!

The past couple of weeks have gone just fine. The day I started teaching, March 8, was mind-numbingly cold—in the thirties, sleeting and then snowing, with a strong wind blowing. My hands were bright red just from walking across campus from class without my mittens on. When I went to dinner with some of the other teachers that night, I was chilled to the bone even with two layers and a wool coat, scarf, mittens, and hat on. However, the next day, the sun came out. Ever since, we’ve enjoyed sunny spring weather, with temperature up into the seventies this past week. Spring seemed to come overnight. This next week is supposed to be rainy again, so we could still see some cooler weather. I’m happy it’s going to rain—with so many days without rain, the pollutions and dust and pollen has fogged the air to the point where even looking across the street seems hazy. The sky is a murky shade of off-white even with the sun shining through. The rain should keep the dust down and clean the air, and hopefully all of us who have been suffering with allergies this past week will get a break.

I’ve met a lot of new people over the past couple of weeks. I’ve been to Tabby’s to spend time with some of our women friends. Last Monday, I spoke to the group about growing in our lives, and certain characteristics that we should cultivate. The talk went quite well; I talked and answered questions for a couple of the college girls afterward; they had never read that part of the book we’re studying. Over the next few weeks, some of the other women will take turns giving talks.

On Saturday, we had a women’s lunch together at Jane’s house in Shashi (pronounced Shah-sure). It was another good opportunity to spend time with new friends and get to know them better. Tabby and I did laugh, though—when we arrived, two of the little girls and one of the women were on the balcony playing—you guessed it—Settlers of Catan. I tried a few foods that I hadn’t before, including duck meat.

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve had quite a bit of drama about paint. I really love my new apartment; it would be quite beautiful painted. The walls now are a normal beige color, which isn’t bad, really. It’s just I’m not the type to have white or beige walls. I like color. Ideally, I’d like to paint the living room my current favorite, a bright olive green, and then a light blue-green would match the duvet cover I bought for the bedroom, and the hallways would be great in a bright golden yellow. The kitchen and bathrooms are tiles, so no painting there. The kitchen has grey cabinets and a dark blue countertop. I’ve got a couple of art-nouveau prints with dark blue and yellow in them, so all the kitchen towels and dishes and such that I’ve bought continue the blue/white/yellow theme in there. I’ve been to the apartment of Dale and Lisa, another American couple here, a couple of times, and I saw that they’d painted their apartment, so I asked Lisa about it.

I didn’t want to spend too much money or go to too much of a hassle painting an apartment that I should just be in for this year, but at the same time, I might as well enjoy while I am here. Lisa said she’d help me out finding out about paint. Her husband had done all of their painting a couple of years ago while she was still is the states visiting family (they’ve been here six years now), but he didn’t remember too much about the process. Anyhow, it started out as a seemingly simple idea. Find out how much paint costs, and can I get it in the color I want? However, things aren’t always so simple here. First of all, there are different qualities and kinds of paint, and then color costs extra, and then some shops can mix the color for you and some can’t, there’s no guarantee you’ll get exactly the color you want; and then anywhere that actually has paint chips and can actually do any specific color charge much more, and ...

Anyhow, I didn’t want it to be a hassle, but in the end it took Lisa and I three trips to figure it all out. I couldn’t do it on my own since very few of the shop owners speak any English. Lisa speaks Chinese quite well, but the last two trips, we were accompanied by a couple of Chinese guys, Derek and Jimmy, who helped do a lot of the talking, too. In the end, I did get some paint. I have a large can of the green color I wanted; that was enough of a hassle that I didn’t want to get into the hassle or expense of other colors. I’ll paint the living room first and see how much I have left, and then consider how much green I want to scatter out elsewhere. I’ll probably start on that project on Tuesday; I’ll post pictures of my apartment after that’s done. In the end, paint is pretty expensive for here, but still cheaper than what it would be in the states. Who would have thought a simple question about paint would turn out to be so much work...

Today's pictures are, top, several of us English teachers walking towards the apartment building where we all live, and, bottom, the decorative pond in front of my apartment building. 

March 19th: Second Week of Classes...with Leprechauns

 The second week, I began class by introducing them to a holiday from the English-speaking world that they had never heard of: St. Patrick's Day!

I told them the story of Patrick and how he was taken as a slave to Ireland, and then later returned there as a missionary, becoming an important figure in Irish history in the process.  I explained how now, at least in the U.S., it seems to be more a celebration of Ireland in general, and we do many silly things to celebrate: There are parades in Dublin, New York, Seattle, and many other cities; Chicago dumps dye in the river to turn it crayon green for the occasion (see the picture below--I've never been there, but it would be a sight to see!); schoolchildren are careful to dress in green in peril of getting pinched.  I told them about leprechauns, rainbows, and the luck of the Irish.  I also told them about the shamrocks you see everywhere on Irish stuff, and how, according to legend, Patrick used the three-leafed shape of the plant to explain the trinity--that in Christianity, we understand God in three ways: the creator Father, the son Jesus, and the Holy Spirit, the part of God that lives in us.  Three parts, but one leaf. I also told them about the time that Mom decided to celebrate St. Patrick's Day by putting green food coloring in our supper. Green macaroni and cheese, green corn bread, green tea, and green potato something, I remember... Dad and Hayden wouldn't eat it; it was too off-putting to eat green cheese.  However, if you don't look at it, it tastes the same--so, I managed alright.

Their journal assignment was to write a similar description of a Chinese holiday they enjoy--what does the day celebrate? A historical event, a famous person, a part of the year like harvest or the coming of spring?  What do you do to celebrate--is there a feast, special songs, particular colors, parades, presents?  Do you have any special memories of this celebration?  I'll let you know about some Chinese holidays when I take up the journals again in a couple of weeks.

In the second half of the classtime, I did a lesson on the differences between informal (e-mails, writing for entertainment, correspondance with family and friends, etc.) and formal (academic papers, essays, business correspondence) writing.  For example, in formal writing, we would write out the number 'six' in words instead of 6.  Also, we wouldn't use abbreviations or contractions: TV becomes television, don't becomes do not. We wouldn't use slang, we wouldn't use "I" and "We" but instead make it impersonal, we wouldn't begin sentences with "well", "but", or "and".  That last point is especially important for them; nearly everyone began sentences with "but" on the first journal assignment.

So far, my classes are going just fine; the students write well enough in English that we can do some interesting projects, but yet still  have enough room for improvement that there's still plenty I can teach them.  I'm beginning to see my students around campus and around town, too.  I was walking to Tabby and casey's the other day for a get-together--last Sunday, I believe--and heard someone calling my name as I turned the corner towards their apartment.  Two of my students were going, too, and in fact, have been hanging out with that crowd for some time now.  Also, I was sitting in my favorite little restaurant, across the street from the campus, the other night.  I had just ordered my food, when a student from my Friday afternoon class sitting at a table nearby recognized me and invited me to come sit with her and her friends at their table.  In a town like Jingzhou, you don't see foreigners everyday, so my students have been very friendly and I appreciate their welcome. 

March 12th: First Week of Classes

Today was the end of my third week teaching.  I have four classes, all of them the same sophomore writing class.  Three of my classes are in building 11, which is the gray building with red trim pictured here. The classroom picture is the room I teach in on Mondays at two, but my first two classes on Friday meet in identical rooms.  On Fridays when I have three classes, I feel like I am covered in chalk dust by the time I finish.  Chalkboards scare me, but I'm trying to face them without too much trepidation...I'm just terrified of slipping and scratching a fingernail against the board.  I'm getting the shivers just writing the thought here.  It doesn't help that whenever I use a

full piece of chalk, it invariably snaps in half after a line or two.  However, the half-pieces seem to write a lot smoother in the end.  And to think...when I was four years old, I declared that I would be a teacher when I grew up, because I wanted to write on the chalkboard.  Well, I am a teacher, but now chalkboards are definitely a con instead of a pro! 

I have about thirty students in each class.  They all have chosen English names to use in their English classes and when conversing with us foreigners (who usually butcher their Chinese names). Most of them have picked pretty normal names--Kristy, May, Linda, Jenny, Anna, Peter, Jack--but some have been more creative.   I also have a Sunflower, Breeze, White, Clivia, and I can't forget Che Guevara.  Che Guevara is aware that I find his name odd, and that it isn't even English, for that matter, but he seems to think it's cute to name himself for a revolutionary.  College guys are the same anywhere, I suppose. 

The first week, I spent some time introducing myself, and each student had to introduce themselves in English, so that I could begin learning their names.  They had to tell their English name, where they are from, and something that they are good at.  My Monday class, apparently, is obsessed with badminton.  It is quite popular here--there's a group of students who play almost nightly one the sidewalk in front of my apartment building, in the circle of light under the street light.  Many of the boys are devoted to basketball; famous NBA stars are traditionally a major source for English names.  The students' favorite things to do include reading novels, playing badminton/basketball/volleyball/ping pong, eating, dancing, sleeping, and singing karaoke at the dozens of KTV (karaoke) bars that seem to be on every corner.  After we finished our introductions, they wrote their first journal entry for the class, answering why they chose to be an English major, what their goals for the semester are, and how they plan to use English in the future.  Then, I read a story about a soldier who lost his legs in the war in Iraq but then learned to ski, from the March 2010 issue of Reader's Digest.  They answered some questions about the story in their journals.  The last question was, "How would you feel/act in his situation?" 

I took up everything they wrote the first day in class, so I could get a better idea of their writing skills.  Overall, the students write fairly well; at least, they are understandable.  There are various little glitches--often things that would seem to fit the rules, but we contrary English speakers just don't say it that way.  Reading their papers was a good way to start getting to know them, too. Their responses to that last question did highlight the closeness of families here: One of the most common responses to the question about losing both legs was that while of course they would be depressed and devastated at first, they would find the courage and strength to make the best of the situation for the sake of their parents, who would be just as devastated as they would be. 

March 8th: THE Game

Last Saturday night, the sixth, the Pratts, Casey and Tabby Smith, and I were invited to the apartment of Ron and Evelyn McFarland on the south campus. The McFarlands have been teaching on that campus for three years now. They had fixed chili, pasta, salad, and jello for us. After we ate together, we got down to the real business of the get-together: Settlers of Catan.

It’s a rather complicated board game, involving building roads, settlements, and town at strategic points on the board, and gaining resources of wood, brick, rock, sheep, and wheat. It seems that this is the game of choice among our Friends here, and the McFarlands and Smiths took it upon themselves to prepare the Pratts and I for tournaments among the brothers and sisters. Mr. Wong claims to be addicted to it. I enjoyed the game, and I look forward to playing again.

March 7th: Food and Wal-Mart

When I started to tell people that I was considering moving to China, one of the first things most people asked about was the food. Do they eat cat? (no) Do they eat dog? (only in the winter; it’s considered a good food to bulk up against the cold, and they only eat certain breeds). What if you get soup with chicken feet in it? (I’ve seen them in stores, and I was warned about that, but so far I’ve never been served anything like that).

I don’t think I’ve ever eaten Chinese food in the states. My mom got food poisoning once from Chinese food, and has never had any interest in it since, so we never had it growing up. Besides, there really wasn’t much Asian food of any type in Columbia until recent years. It wasn’t until I moved to Italy that I started to appreciate Chinese food. Lewis and Tammy like it, and often ate it. One of the women in the church there, Lan, is Chinese, and sometimes I would meet her for lunch. She worked for the Chinese chamber of commerce, so she had coupons for Chinese restaurants in the Chinatown area near where she worked, so we always went for Chinese food since it was cheap with her coupons. She introduced me to several dishes, and I fell in love with sweet and sour chicken. The Chinese takeout place in the mall near where I lived made it particularly well—I would get cravings for it. Before long, the owners would recognize me and all I would have to say was “the normal.”

I heard a lot of horror stories before coming to China, but everyone agreed that the food is in general quite good. So far, it has been. Nearly everything I’ve had has been wonderful.

When you go out to eat in China, you don’t order a plate of food for yourself. Rice is served automatically, and then the group orders as many different dishes as there are people. Then, you eat family-style, eating a little of each of the dishes. For example, on Sunday for lunch I went out with Tabby and Casey. We ordered tong cu li ji (sweet and sour pork), fried eggplant, and fried lotus root, three of my favorite dishes. Instead of each eating one plate, they are all in the middle of the table and we take helpings of each. When there is a bigger group, then everyone sits around a big round table with a huge glass lazy susan in the middle. There are as many dishes as people, and you spin the lazy susan to bring around whatever you want to get a helping of. It’s a great way to be able to try many different things without being stuck with a whole plate of something you don’t like.

Some of my favorite things so far are of course the sweet and sour pork or chicken—it’s wonderful. The fried eggplant is cooked until it’s soft, and served with bell pepper and sometime garlic. I also like the carrots and pork—the carrots are shredded into long strips, and cooked until they are soft but not mushy, and have a great flavor from the pork. One that most of you have probably never tried is the lotus root; I’ve had it two or three different ways already. I don’t really know what to compare the taste to; it’s not very strong, but I like it. Feel free to comment on this post if you’ve tried it and have a good comparison.

I’ve eaten out quite a bit since I’ve been here, and will probably continue to do so. I’ve gotten hooked on the Chinese food, and I want to learn how to make some of this stuff because I already know I’ll miss it once I move on. Also, it’s so cheap to eat out here that it’s often cheaper to eat out than cook myself—the meal I mentioned earlier with Tabby and Casey only cost 20 Yuan (not quite $3).

As far as cooking for myself, I’ve been a little slow getting started. The grocery stores here stock totally different ingredients from what I’m used to; I’m still finding my way around. However, there is always meat, fruit, and vegetables. They thankfully do have bell pepper and eggplant, two of my favorites, in abundance. However, I am missing zucchini, which is nowhere to be found. Dairy products are only just now becoming easy to find; the Chinese don’t use them much. I did finally find some garlic powder. There is ketchup, but I haven’t bought any yet as I haven’t bought anything I’d want to put it on yet. However, there is no canned food at all. The bread is good, but sweeter than what we usually use, and sometimes has raisins in it. There is (thank goodness!) peanut butter, and at one of the major stores in Shashi there is pasta and some Hunt’s spaghetti sauce, which makes me very happy. I used the sauce as a base to make some great vegetable pasta sauce yesterday, with bell pepper, onion, eggplant, and garlic in it. I’ve also enjoyed some frozen dumplings that I bought at RT Mart that just have to be boiled.

Oh, and there is a Wal-mart here! Billy Wayne got a kick out of that—he says I really am a southern girl if I can move to a small city in China and find Wal-mart within three days. It does have some resemblance to the Wal-mart you’re used to, but it’s quite different. It’s in a shopping mall; I have to take the escalator to the third floor to go in. On the third floor are all the non-food items, plus the dry non-refrigerated foods (crackers, cookies, drinks, etc.). Then, you take the escalator ramp down to the second floor of the building, where there is the grocery area with all of the meat, fruit, vegetable, and refrigerated or frozen things. Part look like an American Wal-mart—the shoe section, for example, is pretty standard. However, I’ve certainly never seen a bin full of dried chicken carcasses in a Wal-mart in Tennessee. And at least that was recognizable; I’m not sure what the dried thing in the next bin had been. I surreptitiously took a few pictures the other day, I thought you’d all like to see that. I’ll post them on here if I can ever get this things to work right with the internet censoring here; if not, you can check them out on my flickr site:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/12177583@N08/sets/.

I’ll try to upload pictures frequently if you want to bookmark that site.The pictures here are, from top to bottom:
1. We do have a few American brands here.  We have Chips Ahoy cookies, Skippy peanut butter, and Hunt's tomato sauce.  There are also oreos, land o' lakes butter, pringles, and, of course, Coca Cola.  Not much else, though.  There's some Spanish brand of pasta, thankfully. 
2. My favorite dish--sweet and sour pork.  Tong cu li ji in Chinese (tong tsu lee jee, with the accent on the lee).
3. What the inside of a Chinese Wal-mart look like
4. There are some differences between American and Chinese Wal-marts...dried chicken carcasses and ??? maybe catfish??