Mongolian Dentistry and a Harbin Christmas

Early last week, one of Grace's teeth started to hurt. It was one of her wisdom teeth. When I looked in her mouth, I saw that it had already pushed through the gums, but there wasn't nearly enough room for it. It was coming through the tissue that connects the jaw to the head. We decided to wait a couple days to see what would happen, and after cruising through a couple days on painkillers, we knew she had to have it pulled.

Eve, a student that comes and sits in on one of my classes, has lived in this area her whole life, so we asked her for a recommendation on where to have it removed. She had her wisdom teeth removed at a hospital near by, and everything seemed to have went smoothly. Since Eve's command of English is pretty strong, we asked her to accompany us to the hospital. The hospital was within walking distance, and the dentistry ward was on the third floor. Eve started walking into rooms in the area and talking to the dentists and their assistants. We took a peek into the rooms as well. They appeared to have standard dental equipment; there was the standard chair next to the little sink, adjustable over-head light, and tray with normal tools. The only difference was that there were more than one set of equipment in each room. They came in set of two and four chairs. Grace commented that it was like going to the dentist at the nail salon; the dentists could catch up on the latest gossip while they worked on your teeth. Eve eventually found someone who appeared to be the head of the department. He had Grace get an x-ray of her tooth.

Paying for medical care is really different in China. All the prices are listed, so you know what you'll pay beforehand. Unlike most other financial transactions in China, you can't haggle for price on medical care. However, you can go to another hospital and shop around for a better price. Insurance isn't necessary, and from what I gather, very, very few people have it. I had to go to the cashier, pay for the x-ray, and bring back the receipt before they would take Grace's x-ray. Grace's tooth was growing in sideways, so they said it wouldn't be the easiest to take out but it wouldn't be particularly difficult either. When we went, it was four o'clock on a Friday, so they told us to come back Sunday morning. We ended up missing that suggested appointment time. Grace had to submit her last final and teach two classes on Sunday, and she wisely decided that neither of those would be enjoyable or even possible after having her tooth removed.

On Monday, I taught two classes. Usually, I don't teach on Mondays, but I had rescheduled these classes because I was not going to be in Harbin when they next met. Next week, I'm meeting my family in Beijing for New Years, so I'm going to miss some of my regularly scheduled classes. I gave both these classes their final on Wednesday, so on Monday, I gave them the opportunity to ask questions and take a practice final to see how I would grade. I gave them the same final as I gave to my other tour management classes. They got into pairs and did a dialogue, and after speaking for a while, I would jump in and start talking to them about whatever topic they had chosen. The first class was a little more nervous about everything, so they asked more questions and did sample dialogue. The second class didn't care at all, so I let them go on their way. A character you may remember from my fashion post is in this class, Sino. We got to chatting a little bit during class, and he and Mark decided to stick around after class to talk some more. It was certainly one of the most interesting conversations I've had with a Chinese person. He talked with me about things you are certainly not allowed to talk about it China and explicitly voiced criticisms of Chinese society and policy. I don't think its wise to put on the internet what he said given how the government monitors the internet, but I assure you that I learned some really exciting things.

The next morning, Grace was ready to get her tooth pulled. We called Eve to see if she could take us back to the dentist, but she had class that morning. Grace didn't want to sit around and think about it all day, so I call Sino to see if he could serve as our translator. He readily agreed, and we were on our way.

When we got to the hospital, the dentists recognized us and asked why we didn't come in on Sunday. I told them that Grace had to teach. Sino started asking them about the price of having her tooth pulled. They said it would cost one hundred and twenty to pull the tooth and another eight for the medicine. Sino said that it was too expensive and advised that we go to another hospital. Since the cost wasn't really an object, we decided to stay and get the tooth pulled there. Eve had recommended the place, and we wanted to make sure Grace got the best service available rather than the cheapest. I paid in advance while Grace was taken into one of the rooms. She was put into one of the smaller rooms with two chairs, but the other chair was unoccupied. While Sino and I were outside, one of the other dentist started talking to Sino. I had talked with this dentist in a mixture of English and Chinese the first time we came to the hospital. She was asking Sino if I could tutor her son, and she was willing to offer over two hundred yuan a hour. Since this is more than I make at my school, I gave her my phone number, but I haven't heard from her yet.

I went in to see Grace and see how she was doing. Nothing had started; the dentist was filling a needle to numb Grace's mouth. Hoping to see some skilled dentistry in action, I asked if I could watch. I'm China after all, and I want to take advantage of it; I doubt a dentist would let me watch something like that in America. The dentist let Sino and I stay in the room. She quickly stuck the needle into Grace's gums without any ado, so she didn't get so anxious about it. In about a minute, Grace was tapping around her mouth and giggling because she couldn't feel it at all. The dentist pulled out some sort of drill and start slicing through Grace's gums. Grace started making some moaning noises, but it was over quickly. Then the dentist grabbed what looked like a miniature crowbar, reached into Grace's mouth, and started prying her tooth out. Grace was kicking her feet and moaning loudly as if to say “Stop! Stop!”; the dentist grunted back at her meaning, “Just hold still and be quiet; I'll be done in a second.” The dentist jerked back and slapped a bloody, pink mass on the tray with her tools. Assuming the tooth was somewhere inside there, I started telling Grace, “Its alright; its over.” The dentist had Grace open her mouth again and went back in with the crowbar. In an attempt to stay as still as she could, Grace squirmed and writhed in pain. The dentist triumphantly pulled out the tooth and threw in in the sink. Grace spit out a mouthful of blood. We immediately started wondering what that first mass was that she pulled out and started asking, “Did she pull out two teeth?” Sino asked the dentist, and she said she only pulled out one tooth.

We sat out in the hall for a couple minutes to make sure Grace didn't continue to bleed. She was exhausted; I was exhausted just from watching someone get violated like that. Sino said it looked like the dentist was in a hurry because there were more people waiting. The numbness in Grace's gums started to fade and gave way to pain. We waited a couple minutes, and the dentist cleared us to go. We went to a drug store on the way back to get an antibiotic and a painkiller. Grace collapsed on the bed right went we got back home. She started spitting out more and more blood, so we got a little nervous. Finally, I called Sino back and asked him if he would go back with us to the hospital. When we talked to the dentist again, she just put in new gauze and told us that the bleeding was good. It would bleed out all the bad things. I thought that “bleeding” went out of practice a long time ago, but apparently not.

We went back home, and Grace jacked herself up on enough painkillers to go to sleep. She napped until late in the evening. While she was asleep, I did some research on the internet and learned about what should have been done. Grace had a horizontal impaction, and the dentist should have cut the tooth in half and pulled it out of a smaller hole instead of just ripping the tooth out through the gums. I also froze some bags of ice, so she could numb her face when she woke up. After sleeping so long, she still didn't feel any better. We ate a little, watched a movie, and went to sleep for the night.

She felt much better when we woke up the next morning. I got a flashlight and took a look in her mouth. It looked like everything had healed substantially, but there was a small black hole where her jaw is attached. We think that the hole is opened up from where the hunk of gums was ripped out. The hole is still there, but Grace feels fine now. The moral of this story is to get your wisdom teeth removed before you come to China. We have resolved that if anything else requires major medical attention while we are here, we are going to the American hospital in Beijing.

On Wednesday, I gave finals to two of my classes. Sam, a friend of Sino, said to me when I came into class, “I heard your girlfriend met a Mongolian dentist.” I expressed my surprise at learn that the dentist was Mongolian, but he explained to me that calling a dentist Mongolian is an insult. He said that in Mongolia, dentist do more work on animals than on people, so they aren't very skilled. In administering those two exams, I have six hours left of work until March 1^st. I'm settling in nicely for this two and a half month vacation.

We had a very nice Christmas here. It started with a Christmas party in my Engineering class. I came in a makeshift Santa costume that my class loved. I had my UGA sweatshirt stuffed with some pillows, a toilet paper beard, and a red Santa hat. I told them a little about Christmas and Santa Claus, but as I was speaking, my toilet paper mustache kept falling into my mouth. We sang Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and played the same game with presents as we had played when Sinterklaas came to Harbin. Grace and I spiked the presents with some “sanitary napkins”. Given that Chinese people my age are still in adolescent in maturity, they responded just the way we hoped they would. They liked the game and were very competitive, so the party went well.

With the red hats we purchased for the Christmas party, Grace and I intentionally deceived Chinese people about American Christmas traditions. We wore these hats everywhere from Friday until Christmas. We wore these hats like it was our religious duty. We drew more giggles and hellos than usual this week, and we occasionally got Merry Christmas or Shendan kuaile. Hopefully, people in Harbin will come to expect Americans to wears these hats for future Christmases.

Grace and I feasted on delicacies inaccessible to the average Chinese person for Christmas. Grace's family always makes peanut butter balls and a tuna tree for Christmas. A peanut butter ball is a mixture of peanut butter and sugar rolled into a ball and dipped into melted chocolate. A tuna tree is can tuna mixed with cream cheese and a bit of onion molded into the shape of a Christmas tree and served with crackers. Both were extremely delicious. On the Saturday before Christmas, Stephan and Sven came over, and we shared some of our peanut butter balls with them along with some chili. Grace and I went to the nicest restaurant in town for our Christmas Eve dinner, Pizza Hut. We were greeted by a man in a suit; there was a twenty minute wait (waiting for restaurants in nearly unheard of in China), so he took our phone number to call us when our table was ready. We were starving, so we ate an ice cream cone and French fries at McDonald's in the mean time. When our table became available, we sat down and ordered a supreme pizza. It was wonderful, and it doubled the amount of cheese I've eaten since I've been in China. It was also the most expensive meal I've had here. Christmas morning, we opened presents and ate the tuna tree and some granola. Grace gave me a soccer ball and two ping-pong paddles, and I gave her more rare foods: chocolate icing, whipping cream, cupcakes, and dark chocolate. We indulged ourselves in some luxurious foods with Christmas as the excuse.

In the afternoon on Christmas Day, we met with Sven, Stephan, and Leke (our Nigerian friend who studies at HIT) to go to the Harbin Snow and Ice Festival. The Snow and Ice Festival is the only reason that any tourists come to Harbin. In the afternoon and into the night, we went and saw the snow sculptures at Sun Island Park. This year they made the world's longest snow sculpture. A Canadian team came and helped with it, so it has a Canadian theme. Half of the sculpture is of indigenous Canadians (i.e. Indians), and the other half is Niagara Falls. The Niagara Falls part of the sculpture wasn't quite finished, so we got to see them working on that. Some of the smaller sculptures were also pretty impressive. Later that night, we went to the Ice World. The Ice World is a collection of buildings made from blocks of ice that are cut from the Songhua River and illuminated with neon lights. The theme this year seemed to be religious structures. We all enjoyed it, and Grace and I particularly enjoyed the ice slides. They were fun, but lame Chinese people were going too slowly on them and held us up.

There are many pictures on my picture site from all our Christmas activities if you're interested in taking a look. I hope you and your's had a very Merry Christmas.

Your next skiing vacation may (or may not) be in China

This past weekend, Grace, Marc, Stephan, Sven, and I went to Yabuli to go skiing. Yabuli, according to Lonely Planet, is the biggest and best equipped skiing area in China. It is not far from Harbin; it took three hours by train to get there. We left Friday evening to go ski on Saturday and Sunday. The train ride in itself was pleasant. A tradition is beginning to be developed when traveling on train. For the trip to Beijing, I brought a bottle of wine named "Grand Dragon". Grand Dragon cost a little over ten yuan (about a dollar twenty-five) for a liter and a half bottle. It tastes like grape juice with some alcohol in it. Stephan brought a left-over bottle from the Sinterklaas party for the ride to Yabuli. Grand Dragon, or just "the dragon" as it is affectionately called, certainly makes the train far more enjoyable. Come to think of it, Grand Dragon is present for most all of our gatherings.

We arrived in Yabuli a little after eight at night. Yabuli is fueled by tourists coming for skiing, so outside the train station, there were around ten minibus taxis waiting for trains to arrive. We were recommended a cheap hotel by a fellow teacher and student in Harbin. Since Sven has the best Chinese among us, he was the chief negotiator for our taxi to the hotel. We haggled for a while. Sven was trying to get the price of the taxi down to thirty yuan for all of us. By the time we agreed to take a cab for forty, all the Chinese tourist had long since agreed on prices, and we were the only ones left in the parking lot.

We piled into the little van with all of our stuff. We drove a little ways, and then the lady that was negotiating for our driver insisted that we pay fifteen yuan a person. We were not pleased that she recanted the price we had agreed upon, so we told them to stop the car and got out right there. We were still in the town, and when we got out, more little buses crowded around us and began haggling for our patronage. Stephan slid away from the small mob that was encircling us and bought us some beef on a stick for a snack. This mob became so aggressive that Marc began a counter-attack. He got up in the drivers' faces instead of the other way around and began speaking English to them very quickly. He just spoke nonsense to them like, "Hi, how are you? What are you doing? Oh really, that's interesting. What's your name?" This really intimidated the drivers much to our delight. I encouraged him to switch from English to Dutch. It became clear to us that this situation was not going to yield a price that was desirable, so we just walked away.

We were prepared to just wander the town until we found something suitable in terms of a taxi or hotel when we stumbled upon a toy store that looked like it was closing. With no real plan and nothing better to do, we knocked on the door, and the owner eagerly opened the door for us. We came in a perused the place for a while. Sven explained our situation to the owner who promptly called one of his friends. Grace and I made friends with his two daughters. They were sleeping in a room adjacent to the store, and the commotion of our entry woke them up. I chatted with them for a few seconds, and Grace took a picture with them. The store was filled with the typical set of Chinese toys, dollar store junk and toy guns. There was also an assortment of model America arms such as jets and battleships.

The owner's friend arrived with his taxi. At the same time, another taxi driver that had annoyed us earlier came into the store. Marc resumed his foreign language tactic, and I lined everyone up for a picture with the driver. This frustrated him enough to where he left the store. Sven was able to successfully get the price of a ride with the owner's friend down to thirty yuan. We bid farewell to our friends in the toy store and left for our hotel.

Along the way, our taxi driver proved himself to be a very friendly guy. I sat in the front and chatted with him as best I could. Then he shared with us the English words he had learned. It was so cold that night that all the windows were frozen over. The driver would scrape the ice off of the windshield and his side window with a plastic card, and the windows would freeze back up in thirty seconds. Sven asked him how cold was that night; the driver said negative twenty degrees Celsius.

We drove by a hotel, and apparently, one of the driver's friends was waiting outside trying to flag people down to go to his hotel. The driver stopped, and I was thinking, "This is no good. He is going to leave us here with his friend, and we're going to have to pay whatever they demand for a hotel.” The driver rolled down the window and started talking to the guy. Our driver asked how much it was for a night, and the guy outside the hotel said over two hundred. Our driver told him that it was too much and kept driving us to the hotel we requested. I was shocked. It was the first time a Chinese stranger in tourist spot looked out for us.

We arrived at our hotel at what seemed like midnight. Our hotel was far away from any bright lights, and there was enough cloud cover to block the starlight. We went inside and looked around the hotel for a minute. The entire place was probably seven rooms. There was a kitchen, a bathroom without a shower, a little dining room with a TV, and four rooms for guests. These rooms were luxuriously furnished with only a raised platform with warm coils under it called a kang. These took up the entire floor of the room.

We chose a room. There were two rooms available. One was larger with many windows, but the windows made it pretty cold. The other room was about the size of a tent, but it didn't have any windows. Our neighbors were eating and drinking very loudly next to us. They sat next to a table with short legs on top of their kang. They warmly invited Sven in for a beer shot, and Sven obliged them. We began bargaining for the price of the room. The price started at two hundred but almost immediately dropped to one hundred and fifty. Our driver once again swooped in on our behalf and told us in front of the lady running the hotel that he could take us to a place where we could stay for twenty yuan a person. Once again, I was shocked. The price promptly went to one hundred. At this point, our crew smelt blood and went in for the kill. We demanded eighty for the night. Sven calmly pleaded our case while some of us jumped up and down in the room chanting, “Eighty! Eighty! Eighty!” Our techniques ultimately proved fruitless; we settled for one hundred. Impressed with our driver, we paid him and got his phone number, so we could call him for a ride back to the train station.

That night we ate at our hotel. One of the workers there told us he would take us to the slopes for free in the morning. We snuggled up with the blankets the hotel provided for us on our kang and went to sleep. There was much debate about who got to sleep where because everyone wanted to sleep next to me. I think we all slept pretty well that night. Marc turned around and slept with his head at everyone's feet. I only woke up once or twice. I only woke up because when I went to roll over in my sleep, my back hit the cold wall.

We got a later start than expected the next morning. We got a mediocre breakfast from our hotel and piled in a van. The guy that told us the previous night that he would drive us to the slopes in the morning told us over breakfast that that day skiing would cost four hundred and ten yuan. Marc had done quite a bit of research before the trip, and he had talked to the people who run the slopes in Yabuli. Initially, they told Marc that there was a package for rental, a day of skiing, and a night in their three star hotel for two hundred and eighty per person. Later in the week, Marc talked to them again, and they told him that their promotion had ended and it would cost over three hundred for a day of skiing.

The hotel employee drove us to the lift, and we wandered off. We looked around for a little while and just played in the snow. There was only one lift going to the peak and four slopes coming out to the left of the peak. The mountains were slightly more impressive than those of Wudalian Chi, but not by much. The mountains and the skiing facilities were small even by North Carolina skiing standards. Still, it was very pretty and nice to be out of the city. The fresh air was refreshing. While we were goofing off, a friend called Marc. Luciano, a Brazilian friend from our soccer team, was meeting us in Yabuli to come ski. He took an early train and arrived at the three star hotel owned by the same company that owns the slopes. He told us that the package for two eighty was still available. We told the guy from our hotel that was trying to rip us off goodbye and took a bus owned by the other hotel, the Windmill Inn, down the mountain to talk with their management.

When we arrived at the other hotel, Luciano and the managers of the hotel were waiting for us. One of the managers confirmed what we had expected; the guy from our hotel was trying to screw us. We agreed to take their promotional offer, but we asked to have the day of skiing split over two days since it was already getting close to noon. Sven and I rode over to the hotel where we stayed the night before to pick up our bags. One of the vans from the Windmill Inn gave us a free ride. Sven went in to handle paying our outstanding bill from dinner and breakfast, and I started grabbing our bags. After I came outside with our bags, our ride had left. I guess there was some kind of misunderstanding. I called Marc and had him send another van over. Sven settled the price for the meals, and it ended up being fifteen yuan more expensive than the room. We loaded up the van and bid adieu to our cozy, little kang.

Sven and I returned to our new hotel just as money started changing hands. We were told that we had to put down a thousand yuan deposit on the room and a two hundred deposit per person for skis. Grace, Sven, and I all had to rent ski pants, so I inquired about those. They were fifty yuan a day to rent, but we had to put down a three hundred yuan deposit per pair of pants. Our deposits totaled nearly three thousand yuan. For the rest of the trip we joked about the absurdity of the deposits. We would ask each other if we had paid the deposit for the plates at breakfast or for the mountain while we were skiing. We signed away the rights to each of our first-born children, and then, we were allowed to go to our rooms. Our rooms were certainly the nicest place I could have hoped to have stayed in China. It was a completely standard hotel room, and our rooms even had a little, electric heater that was made to look like a fireplace. There were two beds in each room, and no one had to share!

Finally, we were prepared to go skiing. We geared up and waited outside the front of the hotel for the next bus running to the slopes. Our hotel was in the central hotel area for skiing in Yabuli called Windmill Village. All the little hotels had Chinese conceived windmills. They did not make the Dutch feel at home. Even though this was the biggest part of the skiing area, it still seemed bare. Just before noon, a bus came and took us to the lift. We were fitted up with skis and snowboards, and we were ready to go. Even though I normally snowboard, I chose to ski. Grace had never skied before, and I had only been skiing once. I thought that it would be more fun for me to do something I wasn't that good at if I had to hang out with Grace while she was learning. The bunny slope would be more fun that way.

Marc spent a winter in Austria working as a ski instructor. He gave Grace some tips and exercises, and she looked pretty comfortable right away. We watched her for a while and then decided to make one run while she did the exercises Marc gave her. We took the lift up the mountain. Instead of just having a bar that pulled over the chair lift, there was a retractable bubble to help block the wind. It was so cold that it was almost necessary. We made it to the top and snapped some pictures. I selected a blue route for my first trip down. We started out, and it was great. I felt more confident and comfortable than could have expected. I made it half way down the mountain smoothly when we can to another part of the lift. You could get back on the lift and forgo the second half of the run. I opted to cruise right by. There was a slight incline to the next run, so I picked up speed to make it over. Just past the peak of the incline, I hit powder. The tips of my skis went under the snow, and I busted face-first into the snow. It wasn't particularly painful, but when Marc came up over the hill, he had a good laugh at me sprawled out in the snow with my face heavily powdered. At this point I was thinking that I was pleased with my performance thus far, and a fall had to be expected some where along my first run.

From there on out, things got much rougher. I began to fall at least every fifty feet. The slope was really narrow, fairly steep, and had about four feet of powder. In those conditions, I was not good enough to either snow plow or cut back and forth. It made me feel like less of a goof that Marc also fell once or twice, but surely, I was a goof. On my fourth or fifth fall, I was picking up speed, and my knee hit a big rock. I left out a few choice words. I took a couple minutes to gather myself, and got back up. After taking another couple falls, I decided just to go straight down. I think I just got too intimidated at that point to ski with any confidence. I let my legs go loose to absorb the bumps and just zoomed straight down. The plan proved to be effective. I made it down the rest of the slope, which at this point was a conglomeration of snow and grass, without falling.

We reached Grace at the bottom after what had felt like two hours. Marc and Grace admired the amount of ice I had on my face after my many falls. Marc said I looked like a yeti. Grace showed off her new skills. She was beginning to turn and could slow herself down and stop. However, one of her exhibitions didn't go as well. She lost her balance, fell on her side, and rolled to her back. Her skis stayed attached the whole time, so they flailed about while she rolled over. Again, observing someone else fall made me feel better about myself. This time it wasn't so much about someone falling; it was about how it looked like the stereotypical, awkward, beginner skier fall. I needed some comic relief. All-in-all, I was impressed with how well she picked up the basic principles of skiing.

All three of us took the lift back up. On the top of the mountain, there was a bunny slope with a rope lift. Marc led Grace down and gave her instruction; I attempted to regain my confidence. Marc went down again, and I stayed with Grace for another run. After we finished the run, Grace said her hands and toes were freezing. We had gone to buy gloves for this trip earlier in the week, and much debate centered on what kind of gloves we should buy. Contrary to my nature in terms of shopping, I pushed for better, more expensive gloves, but Grace didn't care for the way they fit. We ended up buying cheap gloves because we didn't want to make an investment in something we may not use again while we're here. Her gloves had gotten a little damp, and the fingers on them froze. Her hands had to be frost-bitten. There was a little restaurant at the top of the mountain, and we retreated there to warm up.

We entered and found that Stephan and Sven were also taking a break. They were displeased with the quality of the slopes. The black slopes were too icy and too difficult for Stephan. However, there were not really any other runs to chose from that were more appropriate to his level. Luciano was not far behind us, and he had the same complaint as Stephan. Luciano had only learned how to snowboard the year before, so the slopes were not enjoyable. He decided that he would not stay the night and went back to Harbin that night. Finally, Marc trickled in a little later also dissatisfied with the iciness his latest run. We all hung out for a while and eventually decided to get back out there. When I went to get back up, me knee had gone stiff. I reached down, and it had already started swelling. Grace and I went back out to the bunny slope, but we only made one more run. My knee was uncomfortable, and my gloves started freezing this time. We went back into the restaurant and played rummy with the cards our hotel had given us for about an hour. Then we took the lift back down the mountain, and our crew returned to the hotel.

When we got back, Marc and Sven went to go look for a place to eat dinner; the rest of us stayed at the hotel to clean up and change clothes. The bathroom in our hotel had a bathtub, and I was really excited about taking a nice, hot bath. I turned on the water, but there was nothing but cold water. A minute later, Stephan called and asked if we had hot water. Given that I was half-naked already in anticipation of a bath, Grace went down to the front desk, and with a combination of hand signals and broken Chinese, she finally got to speak with someone who could tell her in English that there was only hot water between six and eleven at night and six to nine in the morning. In the meantime, Marc and Sven found a restaurant that they deemed acceptable, so they called us to come meet them. I had to settle for just a change of clothes.

Dinner that night was at another hotel that was a little like the one in which we stayed the previous night except this on was larger and nicer. Sven and Marc had already been seated in a room with a kang. There was a short table with little plastic stools on the kang. The floor was lined with a Hawaiian vinyl print, and there were newspapers that served as wallpaper. The plastic stool I sat on was not strong enough to hold my big American butt, so it cracked underneath me. The food and beer were probably the cheapest in the town, and the food was really good. We hadn't eaten much since we got Yabuli, so we ravaged our meal. With our bellies full, we just laid down on the floor in our room and relaxed.

On the way out, Stephan bought a big box of fireworks for twenty yuan. When we went outside, we crossed a bridge, and Stephan set the fireworks off right there. He certainly found quite a value; there were four or five big, multi-colored fireworks that shot out staggered over a twenty second span. We were all surprised about what came out of the box. On the walk back to our hotel, there was an old train turned into a restaurant. We went in to have a look, and bought some coffee. It was a neat little place, but it was overpriced. We didn't stay long.

Grace got in the shower when we got back. While she showered, I laid down on the bed to wait for my turn and was asleep in a few minutes. The next morning, Grace and I woke up to a knock on the door from Marc for breakfast. We went to the hotel restaurant, but their breakfast buffet had already ended. We ended up ordering off the menu, but by the time we were done, the hot water was shut off again. I was a little desperate for a bath at this point. I took a water jug used to boil water for tea from each of our rooms and began to fill up the tub with hot water one liter at a time. I put a little cold water into the tub just so there would be enough water to bath, and after about twelve liters came to a boil, I decided that the water was warm enough. The lukewarm bath didn't satisfy the desire for the hot bath that I had hoped for.

Grace, Stephan, and I decided not to ski again that day. Stephan took a bad fall the day before as well. He was wearing a backpack, and when he fell, he crushed a stainless steel water bottle and broke his camera. While Marc and Sven went skiing, we found the hotel's bowling alley. There were four lanes, and they probably hadn't been waxed since they were built. The shoes I rented were torn in the back. Things were really slow there. While we bowled, three employees attended to us. A bartender, a employee who was writing our scores, and another employee who was just hanging around sat at the lane next to ours. The lady who was keeping our scores didn't know how to score spares and strikes, so I tried to teach here. It was probably the most challenging Chinese experience I've had thus far. She didn't understand, but I think the bartender figured it out. I found it strange that this woman's job was to keep score, and no one taught her how to do it.

After we finished a very expensive game of bowling, we decided to walk around. It was warmer, so it was difficult to find the right amount of clothes for the temperature. When we were walking, we would be too hot, but if we just stopped to look at something, we would be too cold. Somewhere along the way I took off my hat and dropped it. I never found it, but luckily I brough a spare on the trip. On our walk, we found a frozen pond, a dam, and one of the beginner slopes. It was a clear day, and the views were really nice. We walked up the mountain to the lift and had a cup of coffee there. Stephan called Marc to see when they were leaving, and we decided to go ahead a start checkout. We went back, put all the bags in one room, and checked out of the other two. We called the taxi driver from our first day to come pick us up, and he beat Marc and Sven to the hotel. Marc and Sven got back; we got back all our deposits, loaded the taxi, and headed back for the train station.

Our driver took us by a supermarket that he said would be the cheapest in town, and we stocked up for the train ride. Then when we got to the station, he came in and helped us buy our tickets. We tried to offer him an extra ten yuan for the ride and his help but he wouldn't take it. If any of you ever find yourself going to Yabuli, I can get you the number of a good taxi driver. One the train we had our dinner, and we bought some peanuts to use as poker chips. Several older Chinese guys gathered around to watch us play. The ride back went as quickly as the rest of the weekend.

When we went to Wudalian Chi, Sven, Marc, and I hatched a plan to try to visit some companies in China and develop some connections. Luciano works for a Brazilian airplane company called Embraer, and Marc arranged with Luciano a trip for some of us to go to their factory here in Harbin. On Monday, we got the opportunity to pay them a visit. The CEO of Harbin Embraer gave us a presentation and answered questions. Then, Luciano gave us a tour of the factory floor. I had a lot of misconceptions about how an airplane factory would look. I assumed that the company would make their own materials and assemble them, but they simply assemble parts manufactured by other companies. There were no heavy machines to assemble the planes; the floor was very open and clean, and it was really quiet. Since the plane is essentially put together by hand, it seems like there would be a lot of room for human error, but I was assured many precautions are taken to eliminate human error. In fact, Luciano's job is to preform exhaustive quality checks on the planes during each step of assembly. I asked him how labor laws differ between Brazil and China, and he said that they are completely different worlds. He said that people just walk around on top of the planes here, and if they did that in Brazil, that employee and his supervisor would be fired on the spot. He also noted that the attitude of the workers on the floor is totally different in China. There is no questioning of authority; employees just do what they're told. It was a really interesting trip, but unfortunately, we weren't allowed to take any pictures for ourselves. However, one of the employees took some pictures for us, so hopefully, I'll have them soon.

Eve (if you don't recall, Eve is a student that invited me to her home for dinner) is the president of the English Social Club on campus, and she invited Grace and I to come to one of their meetings. On Tuesday, we were special guests at one of their meetings. First, we introduced ourselves and fielded questions. We lead a couple classic American games. Grace taught them a game I had never played before called “Captain's Coming.” It is a lot like Simon Says, and they all enjoyed it. We played telephone as well. I started and said, “Hello Mother, I love you very much,” to keep it simple for them. It came out as, “I don't know the name of the foreign girl that I love.” Chinese students are easily amused, so they got a big kick out of that. The games that Eve led were like charades and Taboo. For the Taboo game, a student would be given a word in Chinese, and Grace and I would have to guess the word in English from their descriptions in English. For the final round of the game, they made us describe English words in Chinese. It was difficult for me, but Grace found a more efficient method. She would say this or that in Chinese and point; it worked really well.

Eve and her boyfriend, whom she cleverly gave the English name Adam, invited us to dinner on Thursday to thank us for attending the meeting. We went to a good restaurant and had a porktastic feast. My favorite part was being given these round, paper-thin, translucent pieces of bread that resembled tortillas. We wrapped one pork dish inside of them and had Chinese fajitas; it maybe my new favorite Chinese dish. Over the course of dinner, Grace and I were asked about our pets. I told them I have two cats at home; Grace said she has a dog. Eve replied, “My mother would never let us have a pet because she was worried that they would drop... (ah, how do you say) drop mao.” Grace and I started cracking up. She asked us what mao means in English, and I told her poop. After giggling for a while longer, I had a realization. I asked, “Is mao the same mao as maoyi (wool sweater).” She said yes and rained on our parade; she meant shedding. Nevertheless, I still like the expression “drop mao” better than “take a poop.” I'm only going to call it mao from now on.

This week we are losing two more of our foreign friends. Sara returned to Portugal on Sunday morning, and Marc leaves Harbin on Monday. Marc is going to Beijing to get his visa for studying there next semester. His girlfriend will arrive on Thursday in Beijing, and they will travel around the country. Then he gets to go back home for Spring Festival to go skiing in Switzerland and celebrate Carnival. He'll come back to Beijing in March to study for another semester at Qinghua University. I'm very jealous of his plans. On Saturday, we had dinner and went out to send them off. After dinner, only the same crew that went skiing was left. We roamed the streets looking for a different bar than normal, but it was the coldest night of the year thus far. It hit negative nine that night, so walking turned to running to say warm. We assumed military cadence and started shouting revolutionary phrases. When we got tired, we found a pool hall and arcade, so we played pool and a Dance Dance Revolution-like game until it was time for Stephan to DJ. We went to Box, danced to Stephan's choice of music, and had a late a wonderful evening.

I have put up many pictures from recent events up on my picture site, so take a look. I should have captions on the new pictures shortly. I really hope to hear from all of you soon.

Illness, Dutch Education

In the days following my last post, I became pretty sick. It was much worse than my first round of China sickness. It was very strange; I only got sick at night. On the first night, I started having repulsive smelling burps late in the evening. Grace said that she got a whiff of one and almost dry-heaved. After I went to sleep, I woke up with extreme nausea, but I couldn't throw up. Finally, I made myself throw up after being miserable for an hour. The next morning, I felt better, but my stomach was still uneasy. By that night, I was really nauseous again. I managed to go to sleep, but I woke up again in the middle of the night. That night was much worse than the previous night. It was one of those kind of sicknesses where your sitting on the toilet with a trashcan in your hands. Between these sessions, I was writhing on the bed with my knees in my chest.

When I was feeling well enough, I got on the internet and started doing some research. I though, "Oh no, I have gall stones... I have stomach ulcers... I'm going to have to go to a Chinese hospital... I'm going to have to go to a hospital in Beijing... I'm going to have to fly back home like this." I felt my first tinges of wanting to be at home with Thanksgiving; that feeling fully manifested itself in getting sick. I wanted my Momma.

Miraculously, both my stomach ulcers and gall stones were fully cured the next morning.

The most exciting event for me this past week was going to an international speed skating competition on Sunday. In Holland, speed skating is huge, and Marc and Stephan prepared for the event all week. They went to the clothing market and the tailor and had big, fuzzy, orange suits made to wear to the competition. The made a giant banner that said in Dutch, "Our stadium is in fact better." Marc brought his fabled megaphone to work the crowd.

Saturday was the first day of the competition, and we went our to Marc and Stephan's dorm before going out that night. They showed us pictures of themselves on the central Dutch media website. They played interview where you could here them yelling and playing songs on the megaphone in the background. They told tales of signing autographs for little kids. They met and took pictures with famous Dutch skaters. They were told by the cameramen filming the event that they could be interviewed the next day. Intrigued by these stories, I asked if I could join them the next day. They agreed to let me tag along.

After a long night, I made it to the arena by 12:30. Marc and Stephan had told me it was free and that there were people outside trying to scam you with fake tickets. When I walked up one of these people approached me. He asked me if I wanted to by a ticket, and I told him that I knew they were fake. He looked dejected and walked away. Another fake ticket seller approached me. I told him, "I don't want to buy one; I know they are fake." That was not an acceptable answer, and he kept walking with me. He didn't really acknowledge that I knew his tickets were fake; he kept showing me them and saying, "Look, these are thirty yuan: I'll sell them to you for ten." I kept saying the same things to him, and finally, I just started saying go away with brushing away hand motion. He eventually got the picture. It was the first time I have said something mean to a Chinese person.

I met Marc and Stephan inside a little later. They rallied the crowd for their Dutch skaters. I got to bust out, "USA, USA, USA!" for the American skaters over the megaphone. I think that was the first time an American speed skater has ever been cheered for outside of the Olympics. One was so surprised that someone was cheering for him that he looked up at me, waved, lost his balance and fell down. Marc and Stephan had already established themselves as VIPs, and whenever they walked around, little girls followed them asking for autographs. Eventually some of these little girls started thinking, "Hey, this guy is white and tall. Let's ask him for his autograph." I signed quite a few little notebooks. Stephan was signing his autograph "Santa Claus." I resisted the temptation to write fake names except for once when I signed "President Bush." I enjoyed chatting with the little kids that hung around. They gave us samples of some interesting Chinese snacks. One older kid asked me for my phone number. I gave it to her much to the dismay of my friends. My thought was that in the best case scenario this kids parents invite me for a free dinner and they offer me an extremely lucrative tutoring job; in the worst case scenario, I just have to ignore calls. Neither ends of the spectrum have played out yet since no one has called.

Marc and Stephan also established themselves as VIPs in the athletes' area as well. We just strolled through the athlete's entrance and into the locker rooms. No one stopped us or asked us what we were doing. After the event was over, we walked out and leaned on the pads circling the ice. We took the stairs underneath and saw the skaters doing there cool down exercises. The two of them chatted in Dutch with some of the people responsible for securing advertisements for the competition. We waited out front for a little bit, and one of the skaters that they really wanted to see came out. She was so excited to have the fan support that she gave them the flowers from the medal she had won that day. It was a very interesting day; it was the type of day I never really expected to have here in Harbin.

Our school poured an ice rink in their stadium, so now students can ice stake for P.E. Grace and I went to buy some skates, so we could go out there. My skates cost over twenty dollars, and Grace's cost about thirteen. I was so excited about buying them that I made Grace go skating with me just after we got back from buying them. Mine fit pretty well, but hers were too flimsy through the heel and ankle to be comfortable. We're from the South; we had no clue what to look for in a pair of skates. We just picked ones that looked cool that we would want to bring back. To get her skates to be comfortable, we're going to go buy her some ankle braces. After teaching my 8:00 class on Thursday, I went skating with my class. It was fun, and I instigated an on ice snowball fight.

On December 5th, Sintertklaas comes to visit Holland. Sinterklaas is like Santa Claus except that he comes on a boat from Spain (or Turkey depending on who you ask). He takes his boat through the canals of the Netherlands and brings the good boys and girls presents. If you're bad, he takes you back with him to Spain. Sinterklaas put a little more mileage on his boat this year and came to Harbin. Marc and Stephan threw a Sinterklaas party, and the man himself managed to show up... twice. Sinterklaas gave me a stern talking-to about dropping out of school; lucky for me he didn't know I dropped out of school to start selling drugs, so I still got some presents.

Everyone brought twenty yuan worth of gifts and wrapped them individually. We had a couple rounds where everyone opened the gifts, and then there was a dice game to distribute the gifts. One of the gifts I opened was a pair of glasses that was wrapped inside of a half-filled water bottle. I had to cut open the bottle to get them out, and the prescription ended up being a little too strong for me. There was stealing gifts, switching gifts, losing gifts, and ganbei (drinking the rest of your glass). The game was much more fun some other gift games I have played. I had my eye on the green bunny earmuffs and the Christmas tree night light, but I made it away with neither of them. After the final round of trading, Grace and I made it out with a bicycle tire repair kit, a broken set of reindeer antlers, two chocolate bars, some potpourri, chocolate filled rock-looking candy, and a broken guitar thermometer. I was mad a Grace because she traded a sexy poster that would have looked great in our room for the bicycle repair kit. I guess we're committed to buying bicycles now.

My teaching has been going well as of late; however, I am ill informed about the schedule of my classes. The department heads don't tell me when my classes will end or when they will not meet. This week I found out that two of my classes either end next week or the week after. For another set of classes, we will have a week off for the first week of January and either we will have our final before or after then. I'm not really sure what is going on, but it looks like I will have substantially more time on my hands before Grace and I can travel during Spring Festival. Hopefully, much of that time will be investing in my tutoring which is going very well. Each time we meet I get to talk and listen at my personal skill level for a long time. My tutor, Carol, is very nice, and I think my Chinese is going to improve rapidly. I hope my Chinese will be prepared for travel.

I appreciate those of you who have sent me e-mail over these past couple of weeks. I'm sorry if I don't get back to you promptly, but don't think that this means your e-mails aren't important to me. I love waking up to a nice full inbox in the morning, so I would encourage those of you who are reading to write to me. I don't really care what it is about, but it is just nice to know who is reading, what people think, and what is going on at home. I know I have some outstanding e-mails to which I have not replied. We're going skiing this weekend, so expect replies when I return on Monday. Also, check out my picture site for new pictures from speed skating and Sinterklaas' visit to Harbin.

High Fashion/Thanksgiving

I think I have the order of the events in this post mixed up. I'm pretty sure that the first story was something I forgot to put in my last post because I will still taking my Chinese class. Nonetheless, the first story fits better with this post with its “High Fashion” theme, and I don't think the order detracts from these stories.

On one Sunday, Grace and I went to Carrefour. We were ogling at overpriced cereals when a Chinese man approached us. I would say he was about in his twenties. He asked me if I could speak Chinese. I said that I could speak a little. Since the ability to say, “I can speak a little” immediately qualifies me a fluent, he started talking to me at one hundred miles per hour. I kept some variety in the conversation by alternating between the three phrases I know for, “I don't understand.” Finally, he said, “Model.” I thought, “Jackpot.” Johnny, one of my foreign friends that I have referenced several times in this blog, works as a model and told me about it. He said that you make eight hundred yuan for about two to four hours of work. It sounded like lots of easy money. (I'd like to make a side note about Johnny. Johnny is pretty well integrated into China. He has been in China for three years; his oral Mandarin is very strong; he has a Chinese wife. He eventually got tired of teaching, so now he just finds random jobs only available for foreigners to support himself. Modeling is one example. Another example is he was paid to record all the English announcements for all trains going to and from Harbin. When Marc and I went to Beijing, we were comforted by our friends voice telling us to have a good night. He is a good example that just about anything is possible for white people in Harbin if you have certain skills and connections. Back to the story at hand.) I told this guy in the supermarket that we would be interested. He asked for my name phone number. I told him, and he pulled a business card out of his fanny pack for me.

The next day while I was in Chinese class, the people from this modeling agency called me. One person started talking to me, and pace and vocabulary were beyond my comprehension. I guess he got frustrated and handed the phone to someone else. This other person wisely spoke simply and slowly. I made an appointment to go to their office the next day at three, and I was told to bring a Chinese friend with me. I came back and told Grace about it. I told her this would be a good way to make some extra money for traveling, and she agreed to go with me.

The following morning, I arranged for Chinese Mark to serve as our translator. We had a long bus ride to the agency's office, but Mark made the ride a bit more informative. He is a tourism management student, and he wants to be an English tour guide in Harbin. He must have spent countless memorizing facts about the city. He was able to tell us the answers to our most pressing questions about Harbin such as how long Zhongyang Dajie is and how large the cobblestones are on the street. Some of the history lessons were nice though.

When we arrived, they gave us information forms to fill out. I was a bit surprised. I figured that we wouldn't have to go through any formal process to get a job with them. I wondered if this was the same modeling agency that employed Johnny because he made it sound as though the agency really wanted white models. I kept telling Grace, “We are interviewing them; they are not interviewing us.” We filled out half the form and expected to see someone shortly. There office was on the top floor of a twenty-two story building in one of the nicer areas of Harbin. There was a big open room with wooden floors and a raised runway. This room had a wall that was entirely windows, and you could see out across the city. We sat on a couple of couches looking at Chinese fashion magazines. We had waited for far longer than we expected when Johnny and another foreigner, Boyd, walked in. They were there to attend one of their classes they had to complete before they started having to do shows. I was relieved to see that this was the same place that Johnny worked, so I had a good idea of what to expect. Johnny started telling me more about what they had to do. They had to complete ten classes before they started getting work. The classes were unpaid. They were supposed to go to three classes a week but had maybe only attended one class a week. We chatted with them for a minute, and when they found out they missed their class, they left to eat dinner.

We waited a little while longer. Because of my “we are interviewing them” mindset, I became agitated and told Marc to tell the receptionist that we were leaving in fifteen minutes. The receptionist ran back into one of the interview rooms to talk to one of the bosses. She came back and told us that someone would talk to us in a minute. We finally were lead back to one of the interview rooms.

Mark started translating what the boss was telling us. The boss gave us a run down of his company. He told us that he started this company from the ground up, and it was the first modeling agency in Harbin. He said they focused on runway modeling instead of photography, but he showed us a picture of their model in a magazine (or he at least showed us a picture of someone in a magazine that may or may not be affiliated with his company for all I know). Then he told us to stand against a wall so he could look at our posture. I was fine with this, so I stood up and put my back to a wall. After getting a good looking-over, he concluded that one of my shoulders is higher than the other. It was Grace's turn next; she faired much better on the posture test. Then we were told to strike six poses. This was a stab to my “we are interviewing them” attitude, but I was tickled by the idea. I played along. Grace was much more self-conscious about this part, but I reassured her, “Remember, we are interviewing them; they are not interviewing us.” Once again, I had to be corrected in my poses, and Grace received no criticism. The final phase of our interview was the runway walk. The boss put on some music and told us to walk to the beat. I confidently strutted my stuff much to the liking of the boss. He was very complimentary of my walk. Grace was still feeling a bit uneasy about being examined, but she went for it. The boss critiqued her but also said she had a pretty walk.

After Grace and I proved to be sufficient models, we went back to the interview room to talk about a contract. First, we were told that if we signed a contract we would not be able to work for anyone else. We would be paid eight hundred yuan for each show, and the contract would last for one year. We would have to attend ten classes to prepare for shows, and we could go with Johnny and Boyd if we liked. The classes would be free, but we would not get paid to go to them. Then he told us that we would have to pay six hundred yuan to sign a contract. We said there was no way that we would pay to sign a contract. I assumed that there was no way Johnny would have paid to work there; he talked bad about himself for modeling and would not have paid money to do it. If he had paid anything, I'm sure he would have told me. Then the boss said that the money would be for the classes. We said that we thought the classes were free. He told us that we would have to make an investment if we wanted to become models. I figured at this point, even if he did say we didn't have to pay anything to work there, I wouldn't trust them. We weren't looking to be the famous models of his sales pitch; we wanted easy money. We went home and left our shattered dreams of a modeling career behind us.

Here is what I think happened. They probably would make a lot of money having white models, so they certainly wanted us to work there and normally wouldn't have requested money up front. However, Johnny and Boyd were wasting there time, and the agency wasn't able to make any money on them. When we came, they figured that they should at least try to make money off of us in the front end, so if we never panned out like what appeared to be happening with Johnny and Boyd, they would have at least made some money. The interview process was all a show to make it seem like we were not in the level of demand we actually were in. When we said we wouldn't pay, they couldn't lose face and let us start without paying.

The next day, I didn't have to teach or go to class, so I figured I would take Grace down to the river. I think it is by far the prettiest spot in the city, and it has certainly been my favorite place just to pass time and do some people-watching. We took a bus down to the river, and once we got past all of the buildings, we were hit in the face with a razor-sharp wind. The lack of trees or buildings let the wind pick up force over the river. It was not enjoyable in the least. Now that the weather has turned cold, it has left my favorite place in the city inaccessible, and now that I am no longer taking my class, it seems that Grace and I are bundled into our little section of the city for the rest of the winter for the most part.

In one of my tourism management classes, there is a student named Sino. He is one of the notorious Harbin gangsters. Harbin gangsters are rich kids that imitate American street culture. They listen to bad American rap music, wear baggy clothes, and some even break dance. During the our second class, he came up to me and asked me if I like rap music. I probably said something like, “Not really. Do you?” He said that he really likes street culture and music. At that time, he had his hair in cornrows. I asked him if he knew what his hairstyle was called. He said no, and it was harder than I though it would be to try to explain why they carry this name. After class one day, we played basketball together along with one of his classmates, Sam. After the next class, he invited me to go play pool. We agreed to eat dinner and play after class next week.

Sino, Sam, Chinese Mark, who is good friends with Sam, and another person I hadn't met named Terrence, Grace, and I all went to dinner the following week. We had jaozi. Terrence spoke with some sort of Chinglified British accent (Chinglified is a word I just made up and is derived from the term Chinglish which means Chinese English). I asked if he had a British English teacher. He said that he had studied in Australia and New Zealand. This is the only young Chinese person I have met that has left the country. I knew he would be are rare case, so I started asking him a bunch of questions. He is from Qiqihuar, the second largest city in Heilongjiang Province. I asked him what he studied when he was abroad; he said fashion design. I asked him if he had a job; he said no. Told me that money isn't important; all he wants to do is be happy. I was taken aback by that answer. It was the first time I had heard a Chinese person denounce the importance of money, but I shortly found the reason why. He said that his father was very rich and told him that he would never have to work. His father somehow made his money selling apples. I didn't gather what exactly he did to make selling apples so lucrative; the people selling apples on the street don't seem too well off. He asked what I thought of Harbin. I said I didn't think it was so bad, but I didn't think it was so great either. He didn't have any kind words for Harbin. Then he said that he wanted to know why I left America for Harbin. I told him that I thought China is one of the most important countries in the world and it is becoming more important extremely quickly as its economy develops. I wanted to learn Chinese and understand something about Chinese culture. I also wanted a chance to leave America and live a completely different life, and in China, I can do that without any expense. He replied that he couldn't believe that I would leave America; you can get anything you want there. He followed that with a little tirade. “I love Prada; I love Prada. What? Yeah, I'm not joking.” Then a little later, “I love (insert some designer). I think he's a genius. I'm not joking. He's a genius. His clothes on women... so slim, and his clothes on men... so slim. What? I'm not joking.” I could only look at Grace and smile. I tried my best not to smile. I didn't want to hurt his feelings but smiling was all I could do to keep from laughing.

Playing pool in itself was quite fun. You pay one yuan per game, and after you are done, you call for the “boss” to rack the balls for you and mark another game on the chalkboard. The pockets on Chinese pool tables are rounded instead of having straight edges. This makes the game substantially more difficult. I keep hitting the inside of the pocket expecting it to bounce into the pocket, and the ball just rattles around the pocket and shoots out. The pool halls strike me as microcosms of the city. They are mostly bare and made of concrete. There are absolutely no frills. The one we went to that night had a cot in the corner where the owner sleeps. I assume that the pool hall is his home. I went to another pool hall this week, and it appeared to be a similar situation. There open doors off of the main room leading to small bed rooms. That night, the boss looked like he was about sixteen years old; he is probably the son of the owners. I expect to spend a fair amount of time playing pool this winter. Grace also enjoys it, it does not require much travel at all, it is really cheap, it is indoors, and it is a way to get out of my room.

My new classes started last week. I got a pretty warm reception. For the first class, I did the same thing I had done with my other classes. I introduced myself and the class, and then I gave them the rest of the time to ask me questions. My favorite question was, “You studied Philosophy and Religion. I think this is very boring. What else did you do for fun when you were in university?” The answer required an explanation of the finer points of mass beer dispensation. This past week I gave them my first real lessons, and they seemed to enjoy it. I felt they were both educational and entertaining. These classes have a book, and I really appreciate the book for some structure in planning lessons. It gives me a framework from which to take more fun tangents. I've found its really hard to plan a fun lesson that is completely original.

Grace has continued to struggle with Chinese food. There was a thirty minute period last week when she lamented the lack of ingredients for things she wanted to eat about ten times. We were just sitting there talking; then out of nowhere, she would say something about food. Each lamentation followed a particular pattern, “If we only had (insert impossible to find ingredient in China) and (insert another impossible ingredient), then we could make (insert food).” For example, “If we only had graham crackers and marshmallows, we could make s'mores.” To this particular statement I responded, “Grace, the only other ingredient in s'mores is chocolate. We only have a third of the ingredients to make this. We're not even close.” This session of despair ended when I gave her a hug, and with her head buried in my chest, she said in a cute, little half-whine, unaware of what she was saying, “Why don't you ever buy me a candy bar?” I just looked at her quizzically and laughed, and when she realized what she had said, she started laughing too. She has taken a lot of teasing for that lately; I'll just ask her why she doesn't buy me a candy bar every now and again. After that breakdown, she has been really good about eating Chinese food. We have found foods she likes, and she doesn't complain. I think she is starting to give up the idea of always eating for pleasure and beginning to just eat for sustenance. Its really a shame because I enjoy the food here most of the time.

Thanksgiving is undoubtedly my favorite holiday. What could be better than not having to do anything for a few days, eating an inordinate amount of good food, and taking a nap? My favorite Thanksgiving memory is of a tradition that started a couple years ago when the first Lord of the Rings movie made it to video. My brother, Sean, his friend, Harry, and I all laid down to watch the movie after eating Thanksgiving dinner, fell asleep within the first thirty minutes, and woke up about seven hours later just in time to catch the ending. Every year after that, we have rented the newest Lord of the Rings release and followed the same pattern. The simplicity and laziness of the holiday combined with its lack of consumerism has made it a really carefree time in my mind. This Thanksgiving, I have felt the first tinge of homesickness I have ever felt in my life. It hasn't been anything severe, but it is the first time I have ever wanted to be home rather than where ever I was at the present time.

In order to compensate for missing Thanksgiving at home, Grace and I decided to have our own Thanksgiving. We made an important discovery that made cooking possible. Our microwave doubles a quasi-toaster oven. We compiled a menu of foods and guest list. Our guest list included my closest Chinese and foreign friends, but in the end, the only people on the list that had ever celebrated Thanksgiving before were Grace and I. We planned as best we could what we thought we could get and where we could get it. We knew we weren't going to be able to find turkey, so we knew chicken and duck would have to serve as the centerpiece of our feast. I had seen them pre-cooked at Carrefour, so we concluded that would be better than trying to cook meat in an oven that only had on and off settings. We bought everything we could from Carrefour, and everything else we though we could make we attempted to buy from a special western supermarket across town called Metro. At Metro, we had hoped they would have a special section for Thanksgiving foods, but they only had a section for Christmas. This forced us to eliminate stuffing and cranberries from our menu. Grace was sorely disappointed when she couldn't find the cream of cheddar soup and sour cream for the tater tot casserole she desperately wanted to make. We made out of Metro with some extremely rare and expensive items in Harbin: olive oil, butter, and Parmesan cheese, and with these ingredients, we could make my mother's fabled green bean artichoke casserole. I think in the end, the green been artichoke casserole served as some level of compensation for Grace missing out on tater tot casserole.

On the day before Thanksgiving, we started cooking and making preparations. Our guest list totaled fourteen people. We had to find a way to get sixteen people to sit and eat in a room that about the same size as my dorm room was at Russell Hall. Moving the furniture between the two rooms of the apartment was like the square puzzle where there are sixteen slots and fifteen tiles. You have to slide the tiles around with only one space to reveal the final picture when the tiles are properly arranged. In the end, we had two desks serving as a long banquet table. On one side, the bed and two chairs served as the seats; the other side had the couch and a small cabinet with pillows on top for seating. The green been artichoke casserole was made first, and it filled the apartment with the best smells I experienced in China. We cooked a massive casserole dish of mashed potatoes. We bought cooked sweet potatoes off the street, and whipped up them with some sugar, milk, butter, and walnuts into a sweet potato casserole.

The next day, we prepared some broccoli with cheese and some corn. After I was done teaching for the day, we made our final trip to Carrefour. We returned with two ducks (with heads still attached), three chickens, ice cream, cookies, cream puffs, and bread. Everything was cooked and ready to go. All the cooking and preparations had gone smoothly, and all we had to do was heat the food back up before everyone got back. It took a lot longer to heat things than we thought it would. We heated the potato dishes first because we assumed that they would stay warm the longest. This almost took right up until six o'clock. Our Chinese guests arrived promptly at five minutes until six. Then we put one duck and one chicken in the oven. The skins started burning before the meat was heated. I put the glass lid to our steamer on top to keep the outside from burning while the rest was heating. After a couple minutes, we began to smell burning. I looked into the microwave/oven, and the plastic handle was beginning to melt. I grabbed my two wool socks which we were using in the place of potholders, and placed it out in the hall. Then we determined that the meat was warm enough. Grace lifted the duck with our large knife to put in on one of our paper serving plates. When she was setting it down, the duck began to tumble for the floor. I reached for it and caught it, but Grace also reached with the hand holding the knife. The tip of the knife hit my thumb at the point where it meets my hand, and I yelled a choice explicative. When I looked down, I realized I had only been nicked, but the yell drew more commotion then the smell of burning from earlier. I began to sense condescension from Fred because he successfully prepared a large meal with the same facilities not long ago without any mishaps. The Chinese nearly revolted. Their dinner time is usually between four thirty and five, and it never ventures later than five thirty. On the verge of conflict from unrest with the natives, the foreigners arrived a little past seven, and by that time, all the food was heated, and we were ready to go.

As for the dining experience itself, it was delightful. We were packed in pretty tight. I'm sure foreigners didn't feel that it was much different than just a very big meal, but they appreciated the western food and the dining experience in a more comfortable and familiar sort of environment. On the other hand, it may have been the most meat the Chinese have eaten in a single sitting. I imagine that some of them had never had any western food before either, not even KFC or McDonald's. We ate and drank late into the evening. The Chinese retired a little early; it was way past their bed times. After they left, we each said what we were thankful for. Another Dutchman, Steven, has arrived in Harbin, and since the Dutch recently had an election, a discussion of Dutch politics ensued. A little before midnight, everyone went home.

It was a really different Thanksgiving for Grace and I. Not having time off before and after the meal, scrambling all week for ingredients, and having to cook by ourselves made the entire experience much more intense. I bet it is equally intense at home for some mothers who have to prepare giant meals even with the time off. Also, eating at night was new; I am very accustomed to having the rest of the day (and the week for that matter) to do nothing. All in all, it was a great time, and it was a great way to spend Thanksgiving. It really took the edge off of not being at home for the holiday.

Clean up, on the other hand, was not so delightful. Grace and I had been a little sick for the past couple of days, and when Thanksgiving was finished, we were completely exhausted. Right afterwards, we put up all the leftovers and left the everything else in its current state. On Friday, we cleaned up all trash, plates, and pots, and I moved all the furniture pack into place on Saturday. We still need to mop the floors, but things are back a livable condition. Thanksgiving was fun the way we did it, but I'm lobbying for Pizza Hut on Christmas.

My boss, Mr. Lu, continues to impress me with his willingness to make my stay here as comfortable and convenient as possible. He is going to take an intern in the International Office. This intern wants to teach non-native speakers Mandarin as her career, and he is taking her on for the sole purpose of getting me a really good tutor in place of my class. I'm really excited. I'm going to get one-on-one lessons without having to travel at all. My independent study hasn't gone that well as of late with most of my free time going toward Thanksgiving, but I expect this will renew my interest in my Chinese studies.

On Friday night, we got a nice snow. I had decreed that the next time it snows, we would go to the big Buddhist temple in the city to take pictures. It was very pretty, but it was absolutely freezing. I was still in my slightly under-dressed mode, and I think this trip cured me of that. I'm taking my clothing to the next level. I looked at the weather today, and I think the days where the temperature gets above the freezing point are long gone. The temperature when I woke up was minus four. Grace and I have resolved not to leave the room for the rest of the winter. We are going to stock up on nonperishable foods and barricade ourselves in from the cold. Really, I think I'll be fine. I have much more warm clothes to wear that I haven't tapped into yet. On the contrary, Grace is already pretty unhappy with the weather, and in January, there will probably be many days where the temperature doesn't make it above zero. I have proposed a solution. Grace will wear whatever she wants to wear, jackets, shoes, and everything else; then, I will start putting my clothes and shoes on over her until she feels warm. It will be very stylish and practical.

Take a look at the pictures from Thanksgiving and the temple; they are up now on my picture site. I hope all of you had a good Thanksgiving. Stay in touch.

Beijing and the Introduction of a New Character

I feel like I am always apologizing for the delay in putting up posts, but this time I have an excuse. The internet in my room has been down for well over a week now making me unable to put up anything new. It is still not working. I'm using dial-up to put up this post which is not an ideal situation. During September, I used dial-up when my internet was down, and the bill totaled over five hundred yuan. Luckily, I didn't have to pay it, but I certainly won't use the dial-up gratuitously from now on. This is probably twice the length of my previous posts because I haven't written in about twice as long. It really can be divided into two sittings if you so choose: my trip to Beijing, and everything after that.

From where I last left off, I was headed to Beijing for a weekend. The intention of the trip was to go and retrieve my girlfriend, Grace, who was coming to stay with me in China. By coming to stay with me, I mean she is going to live here in Harbin with me in my apartment as long as I am here or until she gets tired of me and wants to go home. She still has not finished school yet, and her professors were so kind as to let her finish her classes from here by e-mailing her work to them. As for the reasoning that lead to her coming, we never really had a chance to see how things would work when we were at home, and we both were not comfortable letting things end without knowing how they would turn out. The intention was to just let things go when I left, but that didn't happen. The relationship was in its very beginning phase when I left; the phase were everything is going well, so that was hard to just let go. She was ready to get away from Athens and from school, and we both wanted her to be here. So she hopped on a plane, put school on hold, and now here she is.

I told Marc that I was going to Beijing to get her, and he asked if he could come with me and if we could spend a weekend there. I thought that was a great idea. We bought train tickets to leave on a Friday night and arrive in Beijing on Saturday morning. However, these weren't just any train tickets; we bought the lowest class of seats on the train, the hard seat. When we told people who had been in China for a while that we hard ridden on the hard seat, they looked at us with an aura of disbelief and respect. When I told them that I made Grace ride back on the hard seat after spending twenty hours on a plane, they looked at me with disgust. With both of us being relatively new here, we didn't know what to expect from the fabled hard seat. Marc said he thought it was going to be wooden benches. When we first saw the cars with hard seats, we thought they were the next class up, the soft seat. When we found our car was the same, we were pleasantly surprised.

In the hard seat cars, there is an aisle running down the middle with three seats on one side and two on the other. The seats are arranged to face each other instead of all facing one way like a plane. There is a small table between the rows of seats which is opportune for sleeping like you would in class with your arms folded and your head on the desk. I found this the most comfortable way for me to sleep. The seat backs are nearly vertical, but the seats are padded. The only insane part of the hard seat section is the fact that people can buy standing tickets for these cars. On the trip to Beijing, the car was filled with people standing. Some chose to sit on their bags; others crowded into the areas between cars and would lay down there. It is thirteen hours to Beijing from Harbin, and I imagine it was a miserable thirteen hours for those people. We chatted with on of the guys sitting with us for a little while. I bought a big bottle of wine to take the edge off the trip, and it was enough to make both of us sleepy for the ride.

We got to Beijing early in the morning. When we walked out of the train station, one of the first things I noticed was the haze sitting over the city. It made the morning sun difficult to see. We had breakfast near by and oriented ourselves. One of the reasons Marc wanted to come with me to Beijing was to buy a winter jacket. We had heard that you could buy good jackets in Beijing for extremely cheap. We decided to take a look at one of the markets were you could buy these jackets first. All of the jackets were name brand, but they were most likely fake. Even though they weren't real, you could tell they were really high quality. One of the test we gave the jackets was to ask if they were waterproof, and when the salesperson would say yes, I would pull a water bottle out of my back pocket and dump water on it. Every time, the water ran right off. There was some serious haggling to be done in this market. I assume many tourist or rich ex-pats come there to buy clothes, and they calculate prices in their own currency and buy readily. For example, I bought a t-shirt for twenty yuan, and Marc saw some foreign woman buy a t-shirt for seventy yuan. Haggling was both fun and stressful. It was a great way to practice our Chinese. We had just finished a lesson in which we learn some clothes shopping vocabulary. We had just learned how to say, “Can I try this on?” “It's too big/small/long/short/narrow/wide,” “Do you have a bigger/smaller/etc. one?” and most importantly, “Its too expensive,” and “You should make it cheaper.” All the salespeople there spoke excellent English, but they were amused when we would speak with them in Chinese. One told me in a sales pitch that she was giving me a better price only because I was speaking Chinese.

However, if you are actually looking to buy something for a good price, it is very frustrating. Because people come in, think, “This is only going to cost me sixty dollars,” and pay high prices, it is really hard to get the price you know the vendors are willing to give. I was worried that I would be unable to buy a jacket that would fit in Harbin, so I was really looking to buy a good jacket. The only jacket I found in Harbin that looked warm enough and fit was one hundred eighty yuan, so I used that for my base figure for what I wanted to pay. Starting prices for good jackets ranged from one thousand two hundred yuan to eight hundred yuan, and prices usually ended around three hundred yuan. They were sure to point out whatever brand the jacket was, and I was quick to point out that the brand was not important to me at all. I managed to get the price down to two hundred a couple times, but they never went below my base figure. I ending up leaving with only a t-shirt. Marc on the other hand made some investments in a nice jacket and a windbreaker for his mother (I know he's a better son than I). It is easier to get better prices when you buy multiple items, so he got a really good deal.

After we left the market, we went looking for lunch. We found a Subway and feasted. It was the most expensive meal I have had in China. I spent thirty yuan on a foot-long Italian BMT with everything on it. I forced myself to eat it very slowly. After indulging ourselves, we spent some time just walking around the city. The weather was absolutely perfect; it was jeans and a t-shirt weather. We were immediately impressed with the amount of trees lining the streets, the spaciousness of the city, the calm and quiet traffic, and the cleanliness of the city in relation to Harbin. I quickly realized how far off the beaten track I really am in Harbin. I had assumed that life in Harbin was as modern as anywhere in China, but I was really far off in my assumption. I made me a little more proud for being able to live and be happy in Harbin. Beijing is one of the most modern, clean, beautiful, and cosmopolitan cities I have ever seen. We stumbled across this park which, to our surprise, was free. This free park was far nicer than anything in Harbin. We relished in its beauty and lack of entrance fee for a while, and then decided to drop our purchases off back at our hostel. When we got there, we planned to go walk to Tienanmen Square, but we realized how tired we were from a poor night of sleep. An hour long nap was in order.

Another amazing thing about Beijing is the variety of lifestyles there. There is clearly a very wealthy, modern, and international life you can live there, but there is also the opposite side of the spectrum in the same city without any real boundaries or separation. Right in the middle of the city, there are many neighborhoods of one story buildings called hutong. It looks like someone dumped a bunch of little Chinese villages into the middle of a sea of towers. You can be walking alongside huge modern building covered in glass and steel one second, and then find yourself next to little buildings made of brick and concrete in the next second. After our nap, Marc and I found a restaurant in one of these neighborhoods on our way to Tienanmen Square. All day we had been surrounded by reasonable number of white people, but all of a sudden, we were a novelty and a visible minority again.

That night we made it to the Forbidden City. We came in from one of the side entrances, and the walked out the front. We came under the picture of Chairman Mao into Tienanmen Square. The stretch from the central part of the Forbidden City to Tienanmen Square is seriously impressive. It is massive and beautiful. It not quite as impressive as the stretch in Paris from the Arc du Triumph, past the Obelisk, to the Louvre, but it certainly has that same sort of epic and overwhelming feel. Actually, I would say that Paris and San Sebastian may be the only two cities I have seen that I think are more beautiful than Beijing.

Saturday night was the night that all the foreigners in Beijing had chosen to celebrate Halloween. We hopped on subway from Tienanmen Square and headed to one of the bar districts, Sanlitun. We realized we were a bit early, and we were unwilling to pay the high prices to drink in bars the rest of the night. A grocery store was conveniently placed near by, so we grabbed some wine that, according to the bottle, had been “aged for years”, and strolled around the bar district with bottles in hand. Wine labels tend to be pretty funny here. Another example is a bottle that said, “Drinking this wine continuously is good for your health.” The wine here tastes like fermented grape juice. Being able to drink on the street is quite the luxury that we miss out on at home. All the bouncers at the bars were interested in what we were carrying when we went walking by their bars. The bars of Sanlitun are very nice and generally have Western prices to compliment their Western look and feel. On the street, we met some Argentinian girls. I was incredibly excited to speak to them in Spanish, but I was frustrated when I found out that all the words that I had mastered in Chinese had slurred into my Spanish. Eventually, we made it to one of the clubs. It was a good night. I have a picture to prove it.

The next morning, Marc and I rented bicycles. I seemed like a good way to have an authentic Beijing experience, see the city, and cover great distances for cheap in a short period of time. It was ten yuan for a day. Marc had a low-class mountain bike, but I had the authentic Chinese bicycle. It was black and complete with a basket on the front, steal platform on the back, and weighed a metric ton. I have to confess, I looked good on it. Riding around the city was a lot of fun. Traffic was a breeze compared to Harbin. I am still more afraid crossing the street here than I was riding a bike in Beijing. We started at our hostel, and went to the Forbidden City and Tienanmen Square. When we were goofing off and trying to take pictures of each other riding our bikes around Tienanmen Square, I almost ran over a Chinese pedestrian. This Chinese guy and I saw we were on a collision course. I had my camera in my hand, so I couldn't hit one of my brakes (which were not that great anyway). I went right; he went right too. We both went back left. Finally, I put my feet on the ground, and we managed to avoid each other. After that near crisis, we went to a park on the north side of the Forbidden City. This park had a hill where you could overlook the Forbidden City. I assume the hill was from the dirt used to dig out the moats around the Forbidden City because Beijing is perfectly flat. The view was nice, but it was impeded by the haze. You could see right into the Forbidden City. There is a giant square around the Forbidden City where there are no tall buildings and there are tons to trees, lakes, and small neighborhoods. This square is completely surrounded by towers. Its quite a sight.

We continued north past the Bell Tower and the Drum Tower. We went to the construction site for their new stadium. It is being build for the 2008 Summer Olympics. The stadium looks like a steel bird's nest. Beams are bent and crossing in every direction to form the bowl of the stadium. We took a couple pictures and headed west toward Tsinghua University. Tsinghua University is recognized as the best university in China, and Marc was considering transferring there for his language training next semester. After seeing Beijing and then the school itself, I think it was easy for him to end his period of consideration and decide thats where he wants to be in the spring. I can't blame him; the school and the city are both beautiful, but I will hate to see him go. And I'm also going to be pretty jealous.

We had a long ride back to our hostel form Tsinghua. Along the way, we picked up a friend. Karin, one of the German girls, was on her way back home from Harbin and was also in Beijing for a couple days. We put her on the back of my bike and went to dinner together. Afterwards, we walked around for a little while. Karin went back to her hotel to get ready to fly out later that night, and Marc and I went to go meet up with one of Marc's friends from his time in Singapore. We had a couple beers and then turned in early after having late night followed by a long day.

On Monday, we rented our bikes again. Marc upgraded (or downgraded) to the Chinese model that day as well. We went to another market for a while, and then we went to a bookstore where we heard there were good language learning materials. Marc and I parted ways at the bookstore. He stayed to look around, and I went to find the bus that would take me to the airport to meet Grace. I locked up my bike at the train station, found the bus to the airport, and hopped on. It took about an hour to get there, and I had a little nap along the way. When I arrived at the airport, I found out that her plane was delayed an hour and a half. I had set at time to meet with Marc back at the hostel after Grace had arrived, but there was no way we would be able to make it back in time. In a state of stupidity, I had left my cell phone in my bags which were sitting in the hostel, so there was no way I could call him and let him know. Also, I had to bring back my bike by seven o'clock to the rental place before it closed to get my deposit back, so the extra wait was a bit stressful. I went ahead and bought the bus tickets back, and I milled around impatiently. After the boards at the airport told me her plane had landed, I assumed a waiting position where I could see into baggage claim. People from Grace's plane slowly began gathering around their baggage carousel, but I still couldn't spot her. After it seemed like everyone from the plane had made it out to baggage claim, I saw Grace mosey up like a lost puppy. She has only been on a plane once, and she was too young to remember the experience. I imagine that it was pretty stressful to fly to another country for her first aeronautical adventure. She slowly shuffled into the crowd, and I lost track of her. Most everyone from the plane had taken their bags and left when I finally saw her coming out of baggage claim. I yelled at her, and she spotted me. I told her to go to the end of the long railing where people had to wait. We met at the end, but the potential of the moment wasn't realized because I had to rush her to the bus back to the train station. The hour long bus ride back lent itself to a better greeting.

When we finally made it through afternoon traffic and back to the train station, it was already a few minutes past seven. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get the the deposit back for my bike, and there would be nothing I could do with a bicycle in Beijing. I presented Grace with a couple options. She could take a cab to the hostel, meet Marc there, and wait for me to ride the bike back and return it. We could check her bags at the train station, she could get on the back of my bike, and we could both return the bike and meet up with Marc. She could also just wait with her bags at the train station for me to return the bike and Marc and I would take a cab to the train station. After seeing how much it cost to check bags, we determined it was too expensive to leave them there for the twenty minutes it would take to get tot the hostel and back. She chose to just wait at the train station. I set her next to two police officers and ran to my bike. After two days of riding my bike for endurance, I concluded my Tour de Beijing with a sprint back to the hostel. When I got back to the hostel, the guy who rented bikes was gone. I went in, found Marc, apologized to him, and asked someone about the bikes. The hostel employees asked around for a little while about the bike guy, but no one knew were he was. Marc and I got our bags together and took the bike back to the rental place. Right when we walked up, the guy came back, gave me my deposit, and we jumped into a cab back to the train station. We got back to Grace twenty minutes later. She was still safely guarded by the police, and we still had time to catch our train. I took a deep breath, and we got some dinner at a little place by the station and got on the train.

This is the intermission in this post if you want to take that opportunity.

When we got to Harbin, it was cold. The weather in Beijing was so nice, and it was hard to come back to a place where you can see your breath all day, everyday. Grace and I napped for the remainder of morning to recover from the train. That night, a group of foreigners had dinner for Sara's birthday. Sara is from Portugal, and she is here with the same internship program that brought all the Germans to Harbin. It was a good opportunity to introduce Grace to the people with whom I've spend most of my free time. I enjoyed getting together with everyone, but Grace was still beat from all the traveling. That is not to say she didn't enjoy meeting everyone, but its tough to have a good time when you really just want to go to bed.

The next day we got to walk around the city a bit. I took her to St. Sophia Cathedral. Since I've been here, a lot of construction has been going on in that area. It had been a while since I had been down there, and all the construction is beginning to take shape. They are doing a good job playing to the strengths of the area. All the preexisting buildings are having Russian facades put on them, and the frames of the new buildings look like they will feature Russian style architecture. It appears that they are trying to finish everything before the big tourist season which is the Snow and Ice Festival in January, so I'm excited about getting to see the finished product soon. Then we walked down Zhongyang Dajie all the way to the river. I think Grace was impressed with the city, but since then, she has revised her opinion after seeing more of it while being freezing cold and having dirt blown in her eyes.

That night, I invited some of my favorite students to dinner to introduce them to Grace. I enjoyed some fun at Grace's expense by talking bad about her in Chinese. After hearing about her and showing some of them pictures, they were very excited to meet her but also nervous. Some of them didn't speak too much, but we had a good time nonetheless. I had to explain to them that “cheers” does not necessarily mean drink the whole glass like their version of “cheers”. Given that they have humorously low tolerance for alcohol, they were thankful for that clarification. Over dinner we were talking about cooking, and Fred told me that he could make jaozi which are Chinese dumplings. I asked him he could cook them for us, and he agreed. We set a time for the next Saturday. We concluded the evening with some karaoke.

On Saturday, we had another soccer match. It wasn't a good one for me. I made a couple mistakes that directly lead to two goals. Its much more fun when you're running around and things are going well. Even though I'm not particularly invested in the outcome, I know most of my teammates are, so I felt pretty bad. We ended up losing by a goal. The weather was so strange that day. In the morning, it was nice and warm. As the day went by it got windy. A front was coming through. On October 15^th, the people of Harbin rejoiced because Heating Day had finally come. Heating Day isn't actually a holiday people celebrate (Marc and I did ponder celebrating it for a little while), but it is the day that almost all the buildings in the city turn on their heating systems. Everything is heated with coal, so since then, the city has been getting covered with a low, gray coal cloud. On that Saturday, the smog combined with the dirty being blow into the air by the wind make the city look nearly black in all directions, but if you looked straight up, you could see blue sky. What started as a warm, clear day, ended in a gray, freezing afternoon. Grace ended up being under-clothed sitting on the sidelines. However, that front brought with it the first real snow of the year. It was snowing hard that night, and by the morning, an inch of snow had accumulated over the city.

The next day, we had dinner with the family of one of my students. During one of my lessons, I mentioned that I like Chinese traditional music, and one of my students, Eve, told me that she plays a traditional instrument. Her mother is a professor at our university, so she lives very close by. She invited me to come over to hear her play and have dinner with her family. Grace came with me, and we had quite an interesting experience. First we got to hear Eve play for a little while. I can not remember the name of the instrument. It a long string instrument that is placed on a stand. The strings are raised in the middle. She plucked the strings on the right side of where the strings are raised, and on the left side, she would bend the strings to change their pitch. She was very humble about her abilities, but it sounded glorious. Then we got to peruse the family photo albums. There are advertisements all over the city for photography studios, but they are more like 'glamor shots' than what we think of as family photos. For example, a typical advertisement for children's photography studio has the kids looking tough and dressed in military outfits while holding guns. In Eve's family's pictures, they were very dolled up to the point of almost being unrecognizable. The cultural difference in what is cool was clearly apparent in these pictures. Grace asked how much they cost, and Eve said they were very expensive. When we were on the bus later, we saw a photography studio advertisement that had there cheapest package listed at eight hundred yuan. We also got to watch her mother cook. She explained the steps and ingredients while Eve translated. I was amazed how much oil and sugar goes into their food, and I felt my diet has been much less healthy than I though. I enjoyed the meal itself for the most part. Grace is struggling with Chinese food and chopsticks a bit, so she eats until she is tired of eating rather than until she doesn't want to eat anymore.

Before my Chinese class on Monday, we went to go invest in some warm clothes. I figured it was time for me to get a big jacket, and I got a monstrosity of a jacket. I feel like I'm going to climb Mount Everest or I'm in an astronaut suit, and I'm sure I look like the Michelin Man with a little head. Its not beautiful, but it certainly will be practical. If this thing can not keep me warm, I don't think anything will. I bought it for one hundred seventy yuan, so I ended up feeling good about passing on the jackets in Beijing. Grace bought a wool beanie that is lined with fleece and ties below her chin. She also got some long soccer socks. Later in the week, we went to some of the stores in the market under the street in the middle of the city. We bought the thick, wool, long underwear that the locals wear. When I tried to haggle with this lady who was selling them, she wouldn't lower her price. She just kept going on and on about how good they were and how cheap they were. Then she would conclude by saying, “O.K. le?” Some phrases for agreement in Chinese are, “dui le,” and “hao le.” She used her knowledge of OK to make some pretty mean Chinglish. We were cracking up, and she did have a good price. We ending up buying them from her.

This week I got some semi-bad news. I received at text message from Mr. Lu on Wednesday morning. He told me to use my phone line to check my e-mail. He had written to tell me that they had miscalculated the number of hours I was teaching and that I would be getting four new classes. Given that I had only been teaching eight hours and I was on contract to teach sixteen, there was not much I could do. The new classes fell right into my Chinese classes. Mr. Lu offered to change the schedule of the new classes to fit around my class schedule, but I declined. Even though it sucks that I wouldn't be able to take the class, it think it may turn out to be a good thing. Before adding the new classes, I had class for twenty hours a week. Travel to and from class at an hour each way totaled ten hours a week, and then add eight hours of teaching on top of that. It was a thirty-eight hour week before I ever planned a lesson or studied. It was manageable, but it was never the life I intended to live here. With the extra classes, I could still do it in terms of time, but I don't think I would have been happy at all doing it. Also, I felt I had been spending too much of my time studying characters with my class when I was really interested in learning oral Chinese. I almost never studied anything but characters outside of class. The commute was become worse as well. Standing, packed in on a bus for two hours a day was beginning to wear on me, and as it has gotten colder, it seems like more people are riding the bus. I have to say that I'm a little relieved that this happened. I can't imagine making the hour long commute at seven in the morning in December; it would have been miserable. So I went from a thirty-eight hour week to a sixteen hour week starting next week, and I feel like I can get more out of my Chinese studies if I have the discipline to study the same amount of time on my own (which is a big if). I'm happy with what the class has done for me, but I think I will also happy to be done with it.

This Saturday rolled around and with it came Jaozi Day. Fred and six other students came over to our apartment. Making the dumplings was quite the process. Grace said it felt like Thanksgiving or Christmas because so many people were cooking. I agreed because we were not only cooking but Frank Sinatra was also playing. The only time I really ever listened to crooners with any frequency was when our family would listen to listen to a Bing Crosby Christmas album. We cleared off one of my desks and pulled it into the middle of the room. First, Fred made the dough while people sliced vegetables. Minced onions and garlic were mixed with ground beef, oil, and salt to make the first filling. The dough was stretched into a long cylinder. Little balls were torn off and rolled with speed and precision into circles. A ball of filling was placed on the circles of dough, and the dough was pinched off around the filling. After we used all the beef filling, we made a filling with ground pork and celery. That filling was all placed into dumplings. We must have made over three hundred dumplings. We boiled a little at a time in a pot, and everyone ate them as they came out. Whenever a dumpling fell apart, it was blamed on me. Fred told me that Grace made better dumplings than me, but I think I unfairly got a bad rap. There was wine as well. It turned my students faces red very quickly, but I eventually caught up with them. We feasted. They were easily the most delicious food I've had since I've been here. Fred was probably the most drunk of all by the end of the meal. He challenged me to see how many dumplings we could fit into our mouths at one time and eat. Eager to defend our nation's honor and confident in the size of my mouth, I accepted the challenge and easily defeated him. I ate six dumplings at once for a new world record. Eating multiple dumplings was named a “Chinese sandwich.” That afternoon was one of the most enjoyable moments I've had in China.

Life with Grace has been delightful so far. She has been a great companion for the two weeks she has been here. Of course, we are still in our 'honeymoon period', but I feel confident that things will go well. A winter stuck inside a small apartment will certainly be a test. I was really starting to enjoy myself before she came, but when I was not happy, it was because I was by myself. I am on the opposite side of town from all my foreign friends, and it takes so much effort, time, and planning to hang out. My student friends are great people, but there is a limit to how much time I can spend with them before communication becomes a chore. I knew she was going to fill the holes in my life nicely, but I was less confident in her being happy here. I think all in all she has adjusted well. Food has been a little tough, so we have eaten more Western food. That has been hard on me because I had completely gone into Chinese food, and going back to Western food makes eating Chinese food so much harder. Also, I am completely responsible for her physical and emotional well-being, so when she has gotten upset in her adjustments to China, it also makes me upset. Other than that, this having been going smoothly. She has found a job at a place close by that will pay her just as much as me for sixteen hours of work a week. The working conditions seem very nice, and she will only have a five minute walk to get there. Most of the other employees are Chinese woman about our age, and they seem very nice. She should get her schedule tomorrow. We are going to have a lot of time to be with each other, so we will certainly find out if this is going to work.

I have a lot of good pictures to put up from Beijing and Jaozi Day, but I can't do that until my internet is working. Hopefully, that should be up and running soon. Sorry about the wait and the length of this post. Stay in touch.