My Weird Thanksgiving

Hello dear ones. Sorry for not posting yesterday as promised. I was so tired by the time I got home I could barely think.

But a little late post about my Thanksgiving. On odd weeks I have Thursday classes and on even weeks I don't. So had it been an even week, I would have had the day off like the rest of you. Well, at least the ones in the U.S. But as it was an odd week, I hopped on my bike at 7:40, having had no tea or breakfast, and raced through traffic to my class. I made it just as the professor was parking his bike at the bike rack, and even had time to get a can of coffee. I'm not sure how they heat up the cans of coffee. They say, "add heat" but it can't be a microwave. I'm guessing maybe it involves submerging the coffee in the incredibly hot Chinese version of boiling water. You think I'm crazy, but Chinese boiling water really is hotter than boiling water in the U.S.

Class was lovely as always. I may tend to be late to and complain about my Thursday 8 AM, but it's really one of my favorites. Though as always the microphone malfunctioned horribly.

The second two hours of class was a trial though. Getting up to late imperial Chinese historiography is like going from a pretty clear if slightly winding road to the garden of forking paths. Oh well.

I had a lunch date with my Chinese tutor Valerie. Chinese tutor as in "person who is Chinese and who as a resume-building activity grudgingly agreed to participate in the tutoring program so she could practice her English." Since I have a real tutor now, whom I pay, I have almost gotten over being bitter about this program, and decided I was willing to try interacting with Valerie in English because making Chinese friends can be a value in itself.

When we arranged our lunch date, she had mentioned that it was Thanksgiving, so I knew she knew about it. She wanted to meet at the same ghetto cafeteria as usual though. I met her there, because I'm bad over the phone and slow in texting, but then I had a good idea--we could actually eat on the second floor, which was quite a pleasant restaurant. I said to Valeria, "Since today is a holiday for me, do you think you might have time to eat on the second floor? It's my treat." No, she didn't have time. She had to get back and work on her paper. She was practically thrown into a panic, in fact, at the idea of eating on the second floor. I didn't push in and went grumpily into the ghetto "Art Garden" cafeteria. This is the one where you get your food in soggy cardboard containers. Resignedly, I decided I'd at least try to pick something really warm and soothing, as it was a bitter cold day.

I saw a girl getting a delicious looking stew with many different interesting sauces and toppings--I didn't see the whole process of its construction but it looked good. So, following one of my old standby techniques for dealing with unfamiliar cuisine, I said, "I'll have what she's having." They looked kind of incredulous, always a bad sign, but they keyed in the price and I swiped my card. "Do you want x [something I didn't understand] too?" they asked. I shrugged noncommittally. Then I saw that x was a long crinkly length of intestine. "Uh, no, no, actually, I don't want that!" I said hastily, and the cafeteria workers exchanged glances and one said, "See, she didn't want it after all." Damn selective incomprehension of nouns. I know the Chinese word for guts, I just didn't expect to find it anywhere near my food.

The rest of the gut stew wasn't any better though. It seems I had picked a general "internal organ" stew, the main ingredient of which (aside from guts) was some dark reddish organ that was extra soft and buttery. I'm guessing kidney? I don't know because I've never eaten a kidney, but it wasn't muscley enough to be a heart. I do know that, being chopped, it had clear evidence of some plumbing running through it. It would have been a dreadful loss of face to refuse the dish completely after I'd ordered and paid for it and all, besides the fact that Valerie was waiting impatiently with her (in retrospect delicious looking) plain vegetables and tofu. So I received my stew with dread in my heart, sat down, braced myself, and made the best of it.

I confess, I was not giving thanks. I would rather have done without. Valerie said, in English, "That looks really good." I'm not sure if she was being sarcastic or serious. I made pleasant conversation with her for a half hour sitting in the smelly, packed, and noisy cafeteria at a table with two strangers also, while eating all the tofu bits and the dark red organ slices that at least had the fewest tubes in them, thinking longingly of the restaurant upstairs. Perhaps it isn't fair to blame Valerie for my mishap, but I resolved that I wasn't having any more lunch dates with her anyway. Not only does she not speak Chinese but she's not that interesting either. And if this sounds extra spiteful, it's because organs are the one thing that, despite being an enthusiastic omnivore, I just can't learn to appreciate.

Gratefully I took my leave of her and walked around the campus a bit, trying to soothe my insulted digestive system. Eventually I saw a white girl walking be eating a chocolate bar and I popped into the convenience store and got one too. The chocolate bar helped, at least to the extent of muffling the organ and garlic taste in my mouth!!

Then I did a few errands and came home. Some hours went by in a blur, I'm not sure where. Did internet things, maybe a little work? Oh, and I also had to collect the rent money. My landlady had texted me the day before asking in a way that was really demanding to drop by on Friday (a week early) to get the next three months rent please. But then the ATM I always use wasn't working Wednesday, and I started to get really nervous about daily limits, also paranoid about Bank of America somehow deciding to cut me off because I've been abroad for more than three months or something. But as it turned out, no, it was just that the ATM I usually use wasn't working. So I walked around to a number of different banks, drawing out huge wads of big pink 100 RMB bills. Why different banks? Why so many wads? Because there's a 5000 RMB daily limit per card per bank, and a 2000 RMB transaction limit. To get 5000 in the first place takes 3 transactions, and since for three months rent, plus utilities, I needed…well, let's just say, more than twice the daily limit. I hate having to carry that much cash even for a short time. I felt like a gangster. But I did manage to get it all together, and will not have to worry about it for another three months.

Oh, also I had to have another turtle funeral (see post below).

At dinnertime, I determined that I was going to do better than organ soup. I walked around, looking critically at different restaurants. I considered the vegetarian place, as an atonement to myself and the animal kingdom, but decided to try something all new because I notice that the first time I go to a restaurant I generally have the best experience. The second time never quite measures up. Nothing was really catching my eye, and I almost just went home with street-vendor sweet potato--still an improvement over organ soup. (Incidentally, the street-vendor I bought it from was hob-nobbing with a policemen, which must mean that not all sweet potato vending is illegal.)

Suddenly at the last minute I decided to go up to the over-priced looking "Famous Chef from Jiangnan" restaurant in the Disanji building. Not because I had any high expectations of the food, but because suddenly it looked festive and elegant. It was elegant. I was pretty underdressed in jeans and a big fuzzy black turtle-neck sweater. Attire was mostly business formal. Whatever man. They were willing to take my money.

Below is my little photo-essay about the dinner, my best approximation of Thanksgiving classics drawn from a "Famous Chef from Jiangnan" menu. (I'm not a great food photographer, but I'm giving it my best shot here.) I ordered too much, incidentally, which gave me an authentic over-full feeling. But it was all really good, believe it or not, and while horribly extravagant by Chinese standards, the total came to only about $15. Can't eat like that every night…or actually, I probably could but I won't…but it was worth it to give a sense of holiday-ness.

Table for one with virgin papaya cocktail:



Glutinous rice cooked in wine:



Roasted duck with a side of ginger and lotus root:



Lightly braised spinach in a shrimp and mushroom broth:



Chestnuts and winter mushrooms:



Not bad for $15, huh? It was at least enough for two people, too. My tastebuds considered forgiving me for the earlier outrage.

Then I went home and cleaned my apartment really thoroughly, I mean, I even mopped and dusted and stuff. I also cleaned out my former turtle tank, and redesigned it for use as a goldfish bowl. I realize I haven't at all mentioned my third (now my only) Chinese pet, Tashtego. I got him to go in the fancy goldfish bowl that came with my apartment.

One night, though, I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of dripping. There was Tashtego darting back and forth worriedly in only about an inch of water, and a big mysterious crack in the bowl. (Can you spot it in this photo?) Colin, the only person I know who enthusiastically reads up on fracture mechanics, suggests it has something to do with temperature changes.

I dunno, but since then Tashtego has been confined to a highly inadequate and unphotogenic little square box, which the turtles originally came in. I felt for him, but thought adding him into the turtle tank permanently might be uncomfortable for him on account of the temperature (I'd put him in there for short periods while cleaning his little box). Now he has it to himself, though I have no great hopes for his life expectancy.

That was my Thanksgiving. Started out rocky, but really it could have been a lot worse. And I'm thankful that my life here is as good as it is, even if it has its downsides. Yeah, I think I'm finally adjusting to the foreign student life.