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In Chinese, "examination" and "roast duck" (Peking Duck) differ by only one syllable. I lobbied my teachers to offer roast duck instead of an examination this week. It was my first Chinese joke!
Speaking of roast duck, can I tell you how good my Chinese is getting? I watched the news the other day and found out that there's a problem with some of the Beijing duck take-out places. Good thing I never go for take-out duck. But maybe I'd be happier not watching the local news--or not learning so much Chinese that I actually understand it.
As you know, I did some biking last week. Noticed two things--one, many bike "service stations"--a man who sets up shop in the middle of an urban block. There he squats, ready with an air pump, a collection of rusty tools and tires of various ages. The fancier 'shops' also offer a selection of seats and seat covers. (You don't realize the value of a bicycle seat cover until you leave your bike in the rain in Beijing for a few hours.) I saw these "service stations" every few blocks, so business must be good.
Two, fast food. No joke: picture a man, a wok, bags of raw meats and veggies, a big bottle of oil, and a makeshift coal stove. Bike on up, select your foodstuffs, and in moments you've got fresh stir-fry. I saw at least a dozen of these "fast food joints" on my way to the bird sanctuary. This also helps explain why the daily paper lists the coal dust content of the air each day--some days I think I could light the Beijing air on fire.
Every once in a while the TV goes on by itself. All I can figure is that some neighbor is using a remote to turn on his or her TV and that remote happens to work on mine as well. Weird. Very weird.
To teach the word "jiu"--a long time--Professor Zhang gave the example, "Jin De Feng has not seen her cat for a long time." I am going to miss this place.
It took them less than a week to scratch out the "Free Tibet" that had been written in the wet cement outside my dorm.
Not only have several of my complaints actually been answered (extremely unusual in China), but I came back to my dorm tonight to find that someone had fixed my dripping sink--without my even asking. (Why didn't I ask? It took me three days to get a bedsheet; I figured I'd be long gone before a complaint about a sink would be answered.) Of course, the plumber left broken parts and crud all over the sink...and it still drips....
Having my own room gives me a real sense of privilege--I have privacy, my own toilet, my own cable TV, and about 600 square feet absolutely to myself among 1.2 billion people--and no one comes in except the woman who brings me a fresh thermos of hot water twice a day.
I finally learned how to fine-tune the TV so I can get sound on the English-language channel. No more bad kung fu movies for me. I now have the X-files and LA Law.
My friend Sun Peng and I were walking past a public toilet one day last week. He asked me if I needed to use it and I declined. He then asked if American toilets really were different from Chinese toilets. Yes, I said:
One, our toilets are never outside. Even in public parks, they're inside enclosed buildings.
Two, our toilets have seats.
Three, our toilets generally have toilet paper.
Four, our toilets flush.
Five, our toilets have doors.
Six... Sun Peng told me five was enough.
Traffic got so bad on Sunday on the way to the subway that the bus just stopped and let us all walk the last half mile to the station.
On weekend mornings, some folks do tai ji. Others practice ballroom dancing in the parks. No wonder Lisa spent a year in China!
A note from Mom: "A friend of a friend has a daughter who has a friend in Beijing." <grin> Thanks. Since I'm leaving in four days and my days are actually pretty fully booked, I think I'll pass on calling her. I feel bad, since you and she are probably pretty close, no?
Elizabeth, thanks for the news on the cats. I'm glad they're being so social and you're enjoying their company. Give them hugs for me, ok?
And, Diane, I loved your question: "If they don't have toilet paper, they probably don't have tissues. What do they use: handkerchiefs?" (Diane has a bad cold and this is what's on her mind these days.) What they use is a forefinger and a thumb and the street. Seriously. I can demonstrate, but I'll wait until you're feeling better. Handkerchiefs! Hah!
Finally, Diane, I'd veto Mark Salzman's book. I've read it and it's interesting but not well written. He may be good at martial arts, but a worthy writer he's not.
Miss you all.
I'll write about my final exam in another installment. Gotta go make roast duck plans for Wednesday.
Love,
Debra.
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