I woke up at 6:30 with the intention of setting out to grab a bite at the No 5 Café. To my horror, the No 5 Café had closed for Spring Festival. Alas, I could eat no breakfast this morning either, as I had not allotted myself sufficient time to venture out the East Gate to find a vendor. Instead, I made a meal of AC/DC, Muse, Led Zeppelin, and other artists so that I could psyche myself up for the test. We began the endless challenge known as the weekly test at 8. At 10:15, I turned the test in, confident in my work, as must feel the warrior having conquered foreign lands. I strutted back to the room, jamming on my iPod in celebration. I Skyped the homeland, and played guitar until 11. At this time, I ventured downstairs in anticipation for the Chinese Table that will become a Friday norm for us.
The Chinese Table consisted of us waiting in the lobby, while the teachers deliberated ceaselessly about something beyond both my comprehension and my desire to comprehend. Then, we wandered around the neighborhood, looking for a restaurant for us to eat. By the time we'd found one, it was already 12 o’clock. One must accustom oneself to doing nothing quickly except construction in this country. We ate at a traditional Beijing Fish restaurant, and the greatest part about the whole meal was that the program gave us 20 Yuan to eat. Rather, the mother and father paid for me to eat this meal; the school merely siphoned off some money that we might eat together. We ate like kings, if I may say. 20 Yuan for a meal is more than sufficient. I took some photos of this meal (see photos).
Then, our teachers took us to a market, where they told us to buy gifts for our host families. As I had already purchased gifts for my family, I was not particularly worried about this activity. I was along for the ride. The market to which they took us is quite the gem. It must occupy a space no less than 1 ½ football fields end to end, and the entirety of the building is back to back stalls, selling anything that you can imagine. I would like for you, reader, to take a moment and think of something that you’d like to purchase. Then, maybe ask some friends to do the same. All of those things can be found at this market, and it is a haggler’s paradise. Nothing cannot be haggled. You could buy the bricks from the walls if you paid enough.
Lillian, Joy and I united ourselves as one walking haggling super-force, and I was in for a long ride at the market. What can I say? Women be shopping. We toured the facility, although not in its entirety, as this would have been impossible. I found myself at a cell phone vendor, dubiously perusing a second-hand, touch-screen phone. I haggled and fought my way into buying a phone for 150 Yuan, which is my second largest purchase after the fiasco on the first day here. That’s a whopping 23 USD, and may be the best $23 that I have spent here. I officially have the cheapest phone in the program, and if I may say so myself, it is a pretty sweet phone. I am in control of my own destiny with my new cell phone/alarm clock/gateway to the universe/self-defense device. I must note that the phone is constructed of what feels to be cast iron, and I could probably slay a goat。
After that, Joy and I decided that since we had some free time before meeting our host families, we would travel over to the Houhai area. We jumped on the No 13 subway, which is no way is a subway. It is very much on the surface of the earth. We transferred in the giant XiZhiMen station, and finally made it to the Houhai stop. The two of us sauntered over to West Lake, and Joy was amazed to see the entire lake frozen over. I’m not the only one who has never seen these winter phenomena before. On West Lake, we saw people speed skating, flying kites, and a guy riding his bike on the frozen ice. Then, just because we could, we walked across the lake, in the direction of HouHai. It was patently exhilarating.
Then, we walked across Hou Hai, and watched a hockey game on the ice. When we reached Front Lake, we found a not-so-seedy looking bar, a difficult feat, where a guy was playing guitar. I took my father’s advice, and set out to find the owner of the bar to ask is he would like to have me come by on one afternoon or evening to play. Sounds like great fun, right? Every Chinese person would love you, based solely on the fact that you were foreign, and you could play whatever you liked. Joy and I left in high spirits, imaginations soaring, as the owner told me to drop by and have an “audition” on the morrow. I was destined to be the next star in a musically faltering China.
We took the scenic route back to a subway station, and upon Joy’s discovery of the wonders of the Beijing subway, mainly the TV screens that line the track, we accidentally stayed on the subway for one stop too long. We walked back to the school, which was not very difficult, as the dorm lies at a point almost equidistant from two subway stations. Then Joy, Christina, Alex, Shazeda, Kailin, and I got some noodles from MaLan, and we had to rush to consume them in time to meet our host families at 7:30.
I made a quick run to the room, grabbed my book and Maker’s Mark, and ran over to the meeting hall. I was assigned to a family with Sandra, a first generation American born to Grenadian immigrants. Then, I met my host families. They were extremely excited about the whiskey and the book. Surprisingly, the father, or someone he knows, is doing research on Alabama, and he knows about some of the bigger cities in our state. My Chinese “dad” is a professor (or a manager at a firm, I don’t really know), and my “mom” is a professor at the university here. I showed them the photo album, which they really liked. At nine, they had to bounce to see their son “at a performance.” They never explicitly mentioned they had a son in our conversation, but I deduced that this son must exist.
Then, I just hung out at the dorm. Around nine thirty, I noticed rather loud music coming from the adjacent room, and considering I couldn’t think with the noise, I decided to walk over and investigate. All of the students were there, breaking the language pledge! It was fun to talk to them after a staunch week of Chinese, and we listened to music. All of the guys sung Tribute together, to the astonishment and mild horror of the girls present. Then, Lee wanted to make a Baijiu run, and I tagged along. This was, in fact, a ploy to evade going to the bars with the remainder of the students. This week has been too rough, and I couldn’t take a crazy night. What started as a short run down the street became an hour-long taunt through the city in search of the horrid beverage that the Chinese call Baijiu.
We made it back to the dorm, and Lee and I consumed a small amount of Baijiu while hanging out with Joy. Allow me to say that this beverage is stronger than I remembered and that I immediately regretted this action. And that is the end of that story.
One thing that I have noticed just tonight is that Chinese stores don’t stay open late. I find this very strange, especially considering that when we went to find a store, it was only around 10 PM. The only places that were still open were hotels.
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