Going Back to School

I remember back in high school and junior high, I dreaded going back to school. So I acted illogically: I avoided buying school supplies because I thought if I don't buy the supplies, school won't really start yet. Of course, by day three, I would have to ask my parents to take me to the store so I could get all the supplies.

Tomorrow school starts, but I have a completely different reaction. I am very excited to start school to start learning more of the language. I knew I was excited because I went to buy school supplies today, even before school started. I felt like a little kid. I picked out a backpack, bought my books, and bought a notebook. I really want to buy a kids pencil case because my bag doesn't have a lot of pockets to put my pencils. Maybe I will have to go tomorrow after class.

Here are pictures of my supplies:




I even studied tonight to prepare for class. Don't call me a nerd because Alvin was also studying too. Wait, I take that back! Don't call us both nerds because ... well, that is not a very nice name.

Ok, I'll let y'all know how the first day of school goes. I hope I meet some nice people.

Buy, Sell, Haggle, Make Friends

I bought this messenger bag a few weeks ago... for my language books and study materials, so that I can bike out to the local KFC for a power study session.

The process of buying the book bag taught me some pretty big lessons about the culture of bargaining and relationships. I decided, when I walked into the backpack and luggage store down the street, that walking out with a bookbag that day would be my secondary goal. Instead, I just wanted to observe others in the process of buying a backpack, learn a little bit about culture, and maybe even practice some language with this guy who owns the store.

I browsed at the bags a bit, had my eye on one bag in particular. Being the only one left in the store (which was about the size of a dorm room), I decided to talk with the owner about more than just the bag. We talked about the bag for a minute or two, but then I asked him where he was from. We talked about his home town, and I talked about mine. He pulled up a chair for me. Then we talked about pace of life, family, weather, which cities are beautiful to visit, etc. We talked for about 30 minutes.

And at the end of that conversation, I asked, "Oh, by the way, how much for that bookbag?" 26 kuai, he replied. "Ok. Well, I need to head home. Maybe I'll come back tomorrow, and we'll talk again!" And then I left.

Most of the time, we foreigners approach a little store or a street-side vendor, and we are thinking to ourselves, "Great. I want that thing over there, but I know that this guy is totally going to take advantage of me as a foreigner and just try to use me to make some money. Well, hey, I'm never gonna see this guy again anyways... so I might as well bargain really low so that I can get what I want without getting ripped off."

What we fail to recognize is that there's a good chance that the vendor, who sees us coming, is thinking to himself, "Great. Here comes another foreigner. All they ever do when they come around here is point to something and ask for the price. They don't care anything about my store or my city or my family or me. They're just going to use me to get what they want. Well, hey, I'm never gonna see this guy again anyways... so I might as well keep my prices pretty high so that I can get what I want and maintain my dignity around this wealthy snob."

We forget that it's not only the case that the seller is using the buyer to make some money; the buyer is just as guilty of using the seller to get something he wants for cheap.

I went back to the store the next day. Pulled up a chair. We talked for another 10-15 minutes. Just shootin' the breeze. At the end of that, I said, "Oh yeah, I want to buy that bookbag." His reply: "Ok! For you, 20 kuai." I bought the bag, and I headed home. But I came away from that experience with much more than just a bookbag.

The point wasn't to spend an extra 30 minutes just to save 6 kuai. No, the point was to let this guy know that I cared more about him than about what he was selling or how much he was selling it for. He's a person, not just a vending machine. Hopefully for him, he sees that I'm a person too, not just an ATM machine. And, with that established... at the end of the day, it didn't really matter to either of us if the bag cost 30 kuai or 26 kuai or 20 kuai.

Beef/Lamb Noodle Soup

Alvin sometimes requests a dish for dinner, and so this week he asked me to make beef noodle soup. I said ok, even though my stews do not often turn out well. I feel like the meat is too often overcooked. And so I read some solutions to the problem: cook the meat longer (but on really low simmer).

So I cooked the meat for six hours, and let is sit for two hours in between. And my goodness, the meat was fall off the bones tender. The soup was ok, not as good as my mom's or DTien's, but it resembled a Taiwanese beef noodle soup. Alvin thought it was good, but his negative comments were to cut the vegetables smaller, and put more meat. Personally, I thought the meat content was enough, but I think I am getting used to eating restaurant beef noodle soup here with the total of a teaspoon of meat in one soup bowl.

The reason the final product is called beef/lamb noodle soup is because I, by accident, put two animal meats in the soup. You may laugh and ask how that happened, well I think it is very easy to do. So I went to the open market and bought 2 lbs or ground lamb and one lb of beef. So I got two baggies each containing the meat, and then a whole new baggie with bones cut up. For some reason, I assumed it was the beef meat. Yet when I got home and was throwing the meat in the pot, I thought, "Wait! Cow bones do not look small like that." It was definitely too small to be cow bones. Oops. Good thing it was all in a stew and the end product turned out ok.

Here's the final result:

2¥ Addiction

When we first arrived, I would frequently pass by a food cart where the men there make 牛肉饼 (niǔ ròu bǐng) which is a little meat-filled fried pancake bun. It's flat, crispy, a little oily, about the size of a DVD, and it costs 2¥, or... about 30 cents.

For the first 2 months that I was here, I never ate at this cart. Though I'd heard about it, and passed by it, I just didn't have the urge to try. But then, about a month ago, because I was hungry and needed something quick while I was nearby the area, I decided to have a 牛肉饼.

Oh man. Especially if it is hot off the frying skillet... these things are awesome. I get cravings to eat them... all the time now. But I know that I can't eat them too often - I'm pretty sure that most fried and oily foods are not too good for you. Tonight, even after a delicious dinner... I was tempted to bike out at about 9pm just to go buy 1 for me and 1 for Bethany. But I had self-control and decided against it.

Sometimes the cart doesn't have any 牛肉饼 at the moment, because they just sold out their batch. But I don't mind... because it's so fun to watch them make it. You see them make a batch of another 2 dozen - precision and speed in flattening out the dough and spreading on the ingredients and rolling up the bun so that it will make for thin crispy layers.

Next time I buy one, I will try to take a picture of it and post on the flickr. You will be jealous.

I Choose You ... Ibanez

The last two weeks, Alvin and I have been shopping for guitars. And as of last Saturday, we are now new owners of a guitar.

Our very own Ibanez. What is that you are saying? You never heard of an Ibanez. Yes, it is not a Martin or a Taylor, but it still has six strings and is in the shape of an acoustic guitar. In the store, we did ask the sales person if they have Martin's and we were given a Martinez classical guitar to try. Not the same.

Ibanez is a Japanese brand and our guitar was made in China. This guitar was the most high end in the store, but what we paid for the guitar in yuan, is equal to the price our friends in Dallas paid for their guitars in dollars. The other brand of guitars in the store was the Yamaha. Alvin was adamant that he didn't want a Yamaha even if it sounded good. I think he thinks the Yamaha reputation would tarnish his reputation. Better to get a relatively unknown guitar brand instead.

The quality of the Ibanez is not bad. It doesn't have a full sound and is a little twangy, but it still plays in tune and is relatively easy to play. It actually is a step up from the guitar we had back in Dallas, a tiny step, but it is still a step. We used to have a cheap guitar with a high action. Now we have a cheaper guitar, without high action. Also, the guitar actually can plug in, and has a electronic tuner attached. We didn't want a plug-in guitar, but in the end, the price between a plug-in and not a plug-in was minimal.

Overall, I am very happy to have a guitar again. I have been playing everyday, but instead of calluses coming back, I have blisters.

Now the next step is naming the guitar. Do you have any suggestions?

The Diagonal Cross

Today is a post about biking the streets out here. I wanted to introduce you to an advanced technique which I had seen done before but had not yet thought through. So, I spent some time thinking about how this would work and then began to test out my technique. So far, I'm still alive.

This advanced technique is what I call the diagonal cross. That's right... crossing the street diagonally

The typical intersection light timing cycle works like this:
1. 40 seconds for straight traffic (say, north-south).
2. 10 seconds for left-turn traffic (northwest and southeast).
3. Then, 40 seconds for cross straight traffic (east-west).
4. 10 seconds for left-turn traffic (northeast and soutwest).

Simple enough. Consistent. And every stoplight has a timer that lets you know how many seconds remaining in that phase of the cycle. So, no sudden yellows and strandedness.

So, imagine I am on the southeast corner of an intersection, and I want to cross diagonally to the northwest corner. Here I am, waiting through the 40-second north-south straight traffic phase.




Here is how the diagonal cross works. As long as you're ready, you use the 10 second left-turn phase that follows:



... and you bike between the arrows. Sure you're trusting that the cars coming from your left will really turn left and not run you over. And sure, you're trusting that the cars coming towards you from your right really will turn left and avoid you. But, 10 seconds is a lot of time to make it across diagonally on a bike.

I think the key to this advanced trick is to know when the diagonal cross is available to you. If you have to stop and think to yourself, "Wait, could I have just crossed that way... right through the diagonal?" and you're examining the lights and the cars... then you've probably lost 5 seconds in your window, and now you'll never make it.

I will have to practice this one this week.

CIHYG Part 2

I wanted to let the readers know an update on one of the recent blog entries.

Regarding the blog entry, Chicken I Hate Your Guts, I wanted to let you know that I have bought another whole chicken. This time from the butcher with the fridge. The chicken didn't smell at all, and I kindly asked the butcher to chop off the head and dispose of the guts. Here is how the conversation went:
Me: Excuse me, I don't want the head.
Butcher: But the head is the best part.
Me: Umm, no thank you.
Butcher: I can just put it in the bag for you. Just cook it up.
Me: No thank you. Maybe next time. Please also take out the insides too.
Butcher: Ok.
Me: Do you eat the insides?
Butcher: It is very tasty. I can put it in the bag for you. How come you don't like the innards?
Me: I have never had it. No thank you. Maybe next time.

Technically, the butcher weighs the whole chicken first, and then charges me money. So anything I throw out is like me throwing out money. Yet I am fine with that since that means I do not have to get rid of the guts myself.

Meals: Fending for Myself

My wife is a wonderful chef. Even as I type this, she is putting the finishing touches on 2 pizzas made entirely from scratch. Sure, she may be a food snob... but I think she's earned it.

But... some of you may be wondering what I do when, for some reason, she is gone for the day and not cooking up a wonderful meal for me. How do I survive? Tuesday was such a day.

Since she was gone all day long with a few friends visiting a nearby city, I had to fend for myself. For 3 meals.

Breakfast was easy. I had my coffee. I was done.

We had leftovers in the fridge, enough for 2 meals for me. When my wife is away, and I need to fend for myself, I need to eat the leftovers. Husband who deliberately goes out to eat when there are leftovers in the fridge... makes for an unhappy wife, and rightly so. So, I decided I would eat leftovers for lunch.

But, as a general rule of preference, I think it's reasonable for me not to eat 2 meals of leftovers back-to-back. So... for dinner, I ventured off to what is fast becoming my eat-alone ritual: beef noodle soup, pickled vegetables, and an apple fanta.

Just a few minutes bike ride away is a a great pulled noodle restaurant. Fresh noodles, great flavor (definitely doesn't beat DorTien's beef noodle soup, but it's the best I can do out here), and cheap. Not a lot of beef. But enough noodles and soup to make for a filling meal. Some pickled vegetables to cool down the hot and spicy. And an chilled glass bottle of apple fanta.

Grand total for this meal: 6¥, or approximately 87 cents. Now that is a dollar-value-meal.

I Am A Food Snob

This weekend, I received an e-mail from this ex-pat businessman who sells and delivers western food in this city. He sent us a list of the new items that he will be selling. I read over the list of items, and initially, I had a mixed reaction. Some things I was super excited about, such as chick peas, pasta, pretzels, cheerios, tortilla chips, and ziplock bags. Some of the other stuff, such as the Betty Crocker cake mix, can of stewed tomatoes, salsa, Celestial Seasonings tea, made me feel weird. I know I am super happy to have the opportunity to order these items, and am not trying to be ungrateful, but I still felt weird.

So I decided to analyze my negative reaction to this list; this exercise actually showed me a lot about myself.

One thing I enjoy doing while living here is making food from scratch. I like the challenge, as well as the sense of accomplishment when it is finished. Yet, so much can go wrong in the process of making food from scratch. But that is almost the challenge. But, with Betty Crocker cake mix, not too much can go wrong unless you don’t follow the directions. I almost feel like, now, if I make a cake from scratch and it is a disaster, people will think, why didn’t you just use Betty Crocker? Betty Crocker is now a temptation that I didn’t have to deal with the last two months.

Also, before, when I make salsa here, it is almost a novelty and the consumers gave me grace because that is the best salsa we can get, because it is the only salsa we can get. Now that we can get Tostitos Salsa, my salsa will now be shoved aside for the real stuff.

Another reason for the reaction is that some things I find on the list are a little funny. For example, Celestial Seasonings Tea. I believe the country we live in has tea. Actually, it has a lot of tea. Yes, it doesn’t have cinnamon tea or Earl Grey tea, but it has tea. I guess, though, my family didn’t grow up on Celestial Seasonings Tea, but other families did, and thus it brings people comfort to have Black Cherry Berry tea. Therefore, I should stop being such a snob, and be happy that some people can get comforts here that make them feel like they are at home.

Lastly, sometimes I like that there are some things you can’t get here. When I got this list, I thought, wow, I can not get everything here. I think I almost prided myself on being able to live without many of the comforts of home. Yet, as I look at the way I am salivating at some of the other items on the list, I realize that I am a total hypocrite. I love that I am able to order cheese, eat pretzels, have tortilla chips, and I could store all of these now in Ziploc bags. In the same way I am looking down at people wanting to buy tea, other people reading the list may think I am weird because I want to order tortilla chips.

Wow, just looking at why I reacted the way I did, taught me a lot about myself. First, I am a total food snob. Second, I like the attention/pride from being able to make food from scratch even if it is not as tasty as the box/canned/jarred stuff. Third, I am a hypocrite. Fourth, I get pride from thinking I am able to live off what I think are the minimal items in life.

I could go on, but I really would like to eat cheese on tortilla chips. Oh, where is my order form?

Today's Funny Sights

I saw two hilarious things today, which I'm pretty sure I just wouldn't see state-side. Thought you would enjoy reading about them.

During lunch, TheCaptain and I went next door to the convenience store to buy some cold drinks. For some reason, the woman who runs the store wasn't running the counter at the time, and so her son - who is probably 9 years old - was running the counter. We grabbed our drinks, asking the boy, if he's the boss, if he could give us a discount.

But then a girl walks in - she is probably 6 years old - with a 100¥ bill. She asks to buy a pack of cigarettes for her dad, who is outside. The boy turned around to the rack of cigarettes, grabbed the pack, and put it on the counter.

So... I saw a 9 year old sell a 6 year old a pack of cigarettes. Don't see that at the 7-11 everyday.

Tonight, as Bethany and I were walking through the city, there were lots of clothing stores that were at just about closing time. We saw a long row of male mannequins all dressed up in stylish men's clothing. But then, we saw two women, holding t-shirts, who were going around smacking these mannequins all over their body.

Apparently, since all the mannequins were outdoors, they'd gotten dusty through the day. But it was just funny to see women slapping all of these mannequins around as if they had just said something offensive.

Bethany started cracking up as she imagined what would happen if some guy just happened to be standing right there next to all of the mannequins too, at the end of the row.

My Heart Will Go On ... Outside My Window

A month ago, Alvin and I noticed something peculiar outside our window. Somebody drew a heart right outside our kitchen window. We had speculations on what it was going to be, but we thought that it might be a very small lake outside our window.


As time went along, a pathway was built across the front of our complex and right in front of the heart. Eventually, the heart was dug out and then filled with sand. This last weekend, Alvin and I decided to be mischievous and tag the sand. Since it happened to be the weekend before one of our niece's birthday, we thought we send her a birthday message. So after planning out our attack, we set up the camera (with remote) from our kitchen window and wrote in the sand with a broom handle.


Then we thought, let's leave the message here and see how long it will last. Today on day 4, I looked outside, and it was mostly there. Alvin and I find this so funny that is lasted for four days. We think most people who see it cannot understand what it says, and from down on the ground you can't even see it well. I wonder if people in the complex suspect it is us. The funny thing is that there are some ex-pats here with a son with the same name, but it is spelled differently. If we get caught for our vandalism, we can blame it on them. Just kidding.


Most likely this heart will not just be a huge sand box. If it becomes anything interesting, we will let you know.

Free Gift with Registration

Two women stopped in at our place this afternoon. They came to register us, since we are relatively new to the neighborhood. Registering with this or that office is not unusual. We have already had to register with our apartment complex, with the immigration department, with the local police station. All standard.

Today's registration was fairly typical, though we were not exactly sure at first what organization these women were from. They asked for the basic things... names, passports, purpose of stay, etc. Then they asked if we were married, to which we said yes. Then they asked if we had children, to which we said no.

And then... Do you plan to have children? Eh? That's an interesting question. None of the other officials have asked that question. Umm... and then before I could answer further, the woman took out these two boxes and said... Well, if you're not, we wanted to give you these. They're for you.

We weren't sure what they were at first, and Bethany was saying, "Oh no no, it's ok..." But the woman said... They're free. They're 避孕套 (bì yùn tào). Something clicked in my head. Hey, I remember that term. Bì yùn tào is the word for... condoms.

Then everything made sense. We said, "Oh... thank you. Thank you." They left us their office number in case we needed anything. They were very nice. And then they left.

So, where were these nice ladies from? They were from the local government family planning office. They visit throughout the neighborhoods just to make sure that everyone is adhering to certain policies and regulations (which, by the way, don't apply to foreigners).

Even if those policies don't apply to us, we still needed to register.
And... we received a free gift with registration.
And... you received a new Chinese vocabulary term.

Triumph!

Guess what I did today?

I saw Up in 3D today at a movie theater downtown. Yes! This was the one thing I was lamenting about before I left.

This movie theater was super nice, definitely looked like an AMC and the popcorn was kettle corn. Yumm! The movie cost as much as a movie does in the states, partially it was because the movie was in 3D. Surrounding the theater was a gelato place (looks like Paciugo) + pizza place on one corner, and an all you can eat Brazilian BBQ place on the another corner. For a second, I thought I was in Texas.

One hard part was that the movies was all in Chinese, with no English subtitles. I still felt like I was able to get the story because the movie was high on action, little on dialogue. Pixar does some of the movie just with music and moving pictures. Wow, I esp. liked those parts because I knew I wasn't going to miss out on anything.

I went with one friend who saw the movie in the states. She helped me compare my experience with her original experience. She noticed that in the states, more people laughed in the dialogue, while here, more people laughed at the physical comedy. Maybe something got lost in translation with the dialogue. For example, the bird in English was named Kevin, but the bird in Chinese was named Kai-Long. When the bird turns out to be a female, the joke was lost on me since I have no idea if Kai-Long is a boy or girl's name.

Another difference between the movie here and in the states, is that the 3D glasses made the movie seem really dark looking. Usually Pixar films have beautiful, bright colors. In this theater, everything seemed gloomy because the glasses the theater gave me worked for the 3D, but they were also darkly tinted so it felt like I was wearing sunglasses in the theater. My friends brought me the 3D glasses they used in the states, so I tried them on during the film. These 3D glasses did not work at all during the film, so I realized that the 3D-ness must have been different.

Yet, despite the differences, I really liked the movie. I laughed, I cried, and I would like to see it again in English.

Making Friends

Yesterday, Alvin and I went to the local pizza place to study. This place has a lot of western food and is a hit with the ex-pats. I esp. love it because I can buy cheese.

We ordered hot cocoa and a strawberry milkshake and then sat down to study. About two hours into our study time, a woman comes by and asks what we are doing. She finds that we are Americans learning Chinese, and then pulls up a chair to chit chat with us for about 30 minutes. She keeps telling us to that she wants us to be friends, and so we exchanged numbers.

So today, I decided to text message this woman just to let her know that it was nice to meet her.

So here is my first text translated: "Hello. It was nice to meet you. I will give you a call the next time I am at __________."

Here is the reply: "Hello, do you have something that you want to phone me about, where are you at?"

Sometime in between this text I got a phone call from a man saying:

Man: "Who is this?"
I replied, "who are you calling?"
The man then said, "did you call a wrong number? Goodbye."
Weird, since the man called me.

At the same time, I decided to reply back to the woman's text. So I replied: "Ok, I am at home resting today, next time I am eating pizza I will give you a call."

After this, the text reply is: "Where is your home? Why are you texting me, I don't know you?

Finally, I double checked the number and realized that I put in the wrong phone number, and have been bothering this stranger who called me.

So I replied, "Sorry. I entered the wrong phone number. Sorry about that."

The man replied, "No worries. If you want another friend, we can still be friends."

I didn't reply back to him yet.

I am glad he is so nice about it, but I rather not pursue this friendship with a strange man I met through a wrong number.

This reminds me of the time Alvin was trying to text a friend about dinner, but texted a wrong number by accident. The woman texted back, "I am in San Francisco, is dinner in the city? If it is, count me in." Wow, some people are so bold to make new friends via wrong numbers.

Does anyone else have some wrong number stories?

瑜珈 (yújiā = yoga)

Around the time that we arrived here, we noticed that there was a newly opened yoga studio just a few blocks from our home. We decided we would like to try it out sometime, perhaps after a little while of settling here in our new home.

Tonight, we decided to check it out. We joined a beginner's yoga class of about 6 students and 1 teacher. I was... the only male (which brings back memories of being in a gymnastics class as a kindergartener... I was the only boy in a class of 20+ girls. But that's a whole other story.).

It was interesting to participate in a yoga class instructed completely in Chinese. The same instructions are repeated over and over again, which actually makes it a great language learning exercise. For example, I can't even count how many times I heard 自然呼吸 (zìrán hūxī = breathe naturally).

In yoga classes in the States, I remember instructors frequently saying that the students are not to pay attention to nor comment on how anybody else is doing it... this isn't a competition, and comparison will only stress you out when you're supposed to be relaxed. I don't believe this is the case in yoga classes here... in this culture, many things - good and bad - are commented upon openly and out loud.

Early on, I was complimented for how flexible I was as a guy (something that probably goes back to that gymnastics class as a kindergartener). I think it's embarrassing for a 30-year old guy when a bunch of older women tell him that he's flexible. But oh well.

At the end of the class, when the teacher was asking all of the students what we thought, one woman said, "I feel like I couldn't do some of the stretches because they were too difficult." The teacher said, "It's ok. You don't have to stretch too far at all, as long as you're doing right." And then she stood next to Bethany and said (in a very nice way), "For example, this girl here... she doesn't push herself very hard at all to do these stretches. But that is ok." That gave me and Bethany a pretty good laugh.

All in all, the yoga class was pretty good. The teacher is very nice. We kind of wish there was a little less breathing and relaxing, and instead more poses. Whether or not we continue... that is still to be decided. But regardless... I am planning on playing volleyball on Monday night. :)

Chicken, I Hate Your Guts

And you stink too!

The other day, Alvin and I were talking about making rotisserie chicken in our toaster oven. This oven can fit a 9x13 pan, and also has a rotisserie stick to roast chicken.

I have made whole chickens in the states, so I thought, "how hard could it be?"

So I went to my friendly outdoor butcher who has a fridge and keeps whole chicken in it. But he said, "no fresh chickens today, sorry."

So I walked by this other butcher, and saw that he was selling whole chicken. But as I was asking him how much a chicken was, I started to gag on the smell. I have noticed that sometimes when I buy chicken here, it can have a rotten smell. Maybe it is because some butchers don't have a fridge and it is an outdoor market in the middle of the summer. But for some reason, I really wanted to eat rotisserie chicken, and so I bought it.

When I got home, I realized, preparing this chicken is going to be very difficult. First, the head and feet are still attached. It is really hard emotionally butchering a chicken when its head is still attached. I feel like I only like to eat meat when I haven't seen its face. So, I took my butcher knife, and quickly cut off the head. As first, I unconsciously covered my eyes so I wouldn't have to see the chicken's head, but then I realized that I wanted to keep my fingers intact, so looking while I cut would be good for all.

Next came the harder task, de-gutting the chicken. In the past, de-gutting is no problem because it includes sticking my hand into the cavity and taking out the already packaged innards, and then throwing it away. Here, it is the real thing. First, I looked into the chicken, and stuck my hand in. It was squishy and the smell of the chicken made me gag and I think I may have threw up in my mouth. But I couldn't do much about that because my hands were in a chicken. So finally, after putting the chicken in a bowl, I told myself I had to do it. No one else was going to come in and rescue me. So in one hand I held a paring knife to detach the organs from the cavity, and with the other hand I grabbed and discarded the organs. Eeew, I kept telling the chicken, "I hate your guts!"

When it was time to put the chicken in the oven, I realized that the chicken was too heavy. As a result, the rotisserie stick wasn't able to turn. Yikes, after a huge ordeal, I put it on a roast pan and just roasted it.

The chicken turned out pretty good and nobody got sick from it. I only served it to Alvin because I didn't want to send anyone to the hospital. I also made mashed potatoes and bok choy. That was easy compared to the chicken.

I think I will do whole chicken again, but next time I will buy a smaller chicken, buy it from butcher with a fridge, and kindly ask the butcher to get rid of the insides for me. Also, I might want to invest in some nose plugs.

So Many Ways to Say...

I have begun meeting with a language tutor. Today was our third meeting together. What I enjoy most about tutoring is that we not only get to speak in the language; we also get to speak about the language. Today, we talked about 说法 (shuō fǎ) and 歧义 (qí yì). 说法 has to do with the wording of a sentence. You can have many different ways of wording a sentence, but they all have the same general meaning (e.g. "I ate the food on the table" and "The food on the table was eaten by me"). On the other hand, 歧义 has to do with two different sentences with exactly the same wording... but with different meanings or interpretations (e.g. "She is my favorite wife.").

Speaking of 歧义, my task today was to buy string. To fix the pull-down cord for the screen window, and so that my wife can truss a chicken. The goal: to buy basic... white... string.

The word for string is 线 (xiàn). For the astute blog readers, you will note that we have encountered this word before as it appears in 无线路由器, which means wireless router. That's right, while in English we have words for "string" or "wire" - in Chinese, the basic word is 线.

I started at the supermarket. Asked if they sell 线. It's in the aisle there, on the left. No no no, I don't want thread (also called 线). I want string. Not for clothes. For... umm... hanging... stuff (I don't know how to say "fix a screen window" or "truss a chicken"... so "hanging stuff" is the best I could come up with). Supermarket doesn't sell it.

Went to the electrical and plumbing hardware store. Asked if they sell 线. Are you looking for 电线 (diàn xiàn)? No no no, I don't want electrical wire. I want string.

Went to the little store that sells all sorts of household helps. Asked if they sell 线. Sure we do - over there. Hmm... no... that's... rope (also called 线). Do you have any 线 for... hanging stuff? Yeah. Over there. No no no... that's... link chain (not sure if it's called 线, but I guess it really is for hanging stuff).

In the end, I pointed to the mop... with all the clumped up white string at the bottom, like hair on a doll. Pointing... I say "线像这样的" (= string like this). That... was the key. I got my point across, and I got my string.

In the end... the success of my language task came down to pointing at something and saying, "I want... that." I still have a long way to go...

We Live Near Mountains!

And they are beautiful.

Last Thursday, Alvin and I went with some of our friends to the mountains that are 45 min. car ride from our place. The mountains actually remind me of Arizona because the trees are sparse, the mountains are not super towering, and both places are in the middle of a desert.

Here's Alvin and I as we are climbing:


We were able to visit some cultural sites, visit some of the peaks, and then have some tea at a tea house. There was a moment when our group split up and one group was on one peak, while the camera guy was further away. The group on the peak thought it was reminiscent of the scene from My Sassy Girl. But since we don't know how to say "I'm sorry" in Korean, we talked about shouting, "haemul gochu pajeon" (spicy seafood pancake). Not as romantic, but oh well.

Can you See Me on The Mountain?:


We also sang some songs with "mountains" in it while we were hiking. We thought of "Climb Every Mountain," and "The Climb." What other songs are there with "mountains" in it?

Biking, Pace, and Goodbyes

I recently had a conversation with a visiting friend who was observing the bikers in our city. He noticed that everyone bikes at a leisurely pace... that even the people with the battery-powered electric bikes go at a leisurely pace (usually even slower than if they pedaled). He was right on. In fact, there was only one person I noticed who often bikes down the street at a fast pace, pedaling furiously and passing up all of the others. It was me.

This observations spoke volumes to me about the contrast between the pace of life to which I'm accustomed and the pace of life to which I'm adjusting. Here's my standard train of thought: the faster I pedal, the faster I get there; the faster I get there, the faster I'll be done doing whatever I'm doing there; the faster I'm done, the faster I can move on to do something else; the faster I can move on, the more I can do; the more I can do, the more I am worth. But that last one... the main driver for my drivenness... is a lie.

So, I'm trying to learn to pedal slower. Not just on my bike... but in life. To spend time with and enjoy the people around me. To be less concerned with how productive I am and more concerned with how loving I am. To place a higher value on being encouraging than on being efficient.

"Pedal faster!" was my friend's final words to me (jokingly) just before he left town last week.

Another life lesson I learned today... if there is the option to have your bike watched by an attendant, take that option. Sure, it costs a little bit of money (the equivalent of about 10 cents), and you may need to park underground and then walk back up a ramp. But... it's better than getting your bike stolen. Which... is what happened to me today.

I think all of us who live here are somewhat emotionally prepared to have our bikes stolen maybe once or twice a year (at least). So, I paid my dues today. Tomorrow, I will buy another (inexpensive) bike and with a (better quality) lock.

Goodbye, Yoshi. You were good to me.