7th day

from Aaron:

Woke up early to grab breakfast and pulled a Nigel. I took a big bowl over and had them fill it with the rolls (still no spicy cabbage) and saved a couple for Erin.
(Before I forget, last night I asked Chi what my bracelet meant and she said it was very lucky, that the shapes were found wherever Buddha is and that it meant “best wishes.”)
Erin and I biked to the photo place so I could get my passport photos done. I asked Chi if I could borrow Nigel’s bike, since I still hadn’t been issued one to replace the henceforth-named “piece of shit.” Traffic was nuts like always, with motorcycles flagrantly ignoring traffic signals, people pulling in front of others without even a glance over the shoulder or looking both ways, taxis honking at every air particle. Haimen City could be straightened out in three days with the advent of one ways, more traffic lights, and a rigorous mandatory enrollment of every citizen in the SafetyTown program.
We reached the photo place and negotiated the release of Erin’s photos, which I think they made her pay for twice. Then I sat in the back and posed, was given a receipt, and I’m hoping like hell they don’t try to charge me again tomorrow. I’ll bring the wrath of Rose down on them.
We pedaled back and Nigel hailed us from the senior block, made us take a plastic bag full of “sandwiches” (bread slices with a sweet butter spread on them.) He asked us about the photo place and told us the KFC was closed for four days. I’ve tried to explain that I have no interest in KFC in the states, let alone some Chinese franchise. Perhaps he’s just trying to relate to us on an American level. I hate fast food and Erin’s a vegetarian. We said, “Ok,” and pedaled back home.
I’ve been issued a new bike, a great yellow monster, made for a boy with rugged mountain bike features. The chain had been recently oiled and there was a tiny pool of bike grease from the drippings. Hot damn.
I surfed the net for a bit, ate a couple sandwiches, watched BBC World, then went to teach. This class went the best so far. I think I’ve really hit my stride with the junior 2 classes. Speaking slowly, a bit of a task for me, really stretches out the period and puts my students at ease. I try to make it as fun as possible. They like the pirate stuff. We didn’t even open the book.
I had lunch (I think there were quail eggs in one dish) and dropped by the arts building. Feng Jao Li wasn’t there, but I left my phone number on her desk, next to a glossy photo of her that could be straight out of a magazine.
The other three classes went great. I added taking a picture of them to illustrate smiles vs. frowns, (every time I ask them what the opposite of a smile is, they say cry). “No frowns,” I told them and they scrambled on top of each other for the camera, all teeth and peace signs. So very cute.
I signed autographs galore, even money, which I’m not sure is legal, but it’s fun to think my American signature will be floating around in circulation. I was given a coin and a custard cake. I met another English teacher, Summer, and after her class one of her students asked me, “Do you love my teacher?”
I replied, “Yes, she’s very pretty,” and his eyes lit up and his mouth dropped open.
I told them one of my hobbies was singing and they requested I sing a song. The only thing I could think to do was sing “Happy Birthday”, but it was no one’s birthday in the class. Not to be deterred from my song choice, I drew a boy on the chalkboard and sang it to him. Yet, I forgot to name him so the crucial moment of the song was “happy birthday dear……….guy.”
One boy, when they were introducing themselves, said “I don’t have an English name.” Nor did most everyone in the class, but since he said so, I dubbed him Charlie. He looked like a kind of pudgy Charlie Brown, so it fit.
Rose got to see me in action for the last class, although I was nervous because she sat in the back stone-faced and graded tests. I didn’t let it show, just taught with my usual fanfare and afterwards she said, “That was very good.” Ha! Now that I know what is expected, this is going to be a breeze. She also said she needed my certification and plane ticket. I emailed Sy, since he has a copy of it. The actual piece of paper is buried in a cardboard box somewhere in Jenn’s storage space. The plane ticket, or rather boarding pass stub, was lurking somewhere in my bag.
Erin’s other bag finally came, along with an emergency care package from her mother. It got here in six days. It had socks, underwear, toiletries, etc. She gave me the Junior Mints because she didn’t eat gelatin, and now her whole payload had its minty olfactory signature.
Dinner was a little underwhelming. None of the usual delicacies this go around. I had pieces of I thought onion, but turned out to be gelatinous chunks. Nigel said the Chinese ate a lot of fat and I queased ruminating whose blubber was resting on my tray slathered in brown sauce.
Nigel, never one to leave the conversation before a few more bits of trivia could be squeezed in, told us of a club in town that he would take us to sometime, where hairless Chinese men took off their shirts while they danced. Not exactly my cup of tea, but Erin brought up the fact I might get a gig DJing there, convince them that I’m a famous American DJ. (I still haven’t played any music, other than what I make myself on the piano.)
After dinner, I decided to just walk around since it was a beautiful day and the sunset was just beginning to blossom. I was headed out to the sports fields and Feng Jao Li came running out of the primary block to meet me.
“You have dinner?” she asked.
“Yes. I ate already.”
“What do you do?”
“Now? Walking around. Going for a walk.”
“Walk?”
I made a motion of running, said “Run,” then returned to pace, said, “Walk.”
“Ah.”
I nodded. “We are walking.”
She went into the primary dining hall and sat, had one of her students translate for her. This little girl in pigtails said, “She will find you later.”
“Ok,” I said. “I will play piano.”
Feng Jao Li nodded. She’s always smiling. Everyone at this school is so happy.
I went to the arts building and tinkered around a bit with this simple quasi-classical song I made up. Then a knock came at the door, and it was Feng Jao Li. She must have eaten very quickly. “We,” she began, then lapsed into Chinese, tapped her forehead in frustration, “talk….er….difficult. Difficult?”
I tapped a simple “Mary had a Little Lamb” melody on the piano, said “Easy.” Then did an all over the place riff and said, “Difficult.”
She creased her brow. “Fast?”
“No, just…” How the hell do you explain “complex” without using the word “complex”? Two of her students came in and they spoke Chinese for a bit, then she gestured toward me and one of her students asked, “Do you have a dictionary?”
“Yes!”
“Tomorrow,” the student continued, “You bring it for her?”
“I’ll get it now. Just a moment.” I held up the index finger of “just one momentness” and ran back to my flat, grabbed the dictionary, ran back.
Feng Jao Li and I spent the next half hour learning about each other with this book bridging the gap in our communication. She asked about my job back home and I taught her “restaurant” and “waiter.” That my parents were “nurses,” my brother was older, married. Her parents are dentists, she’s an only child, etc. We said what we did every night. I told her I wrote letters to friends and watched TV. She said she talked with her girlfriend and watched TV. We confirmed that the night we were all having dinner was actually Sunday, not Saturday. We flipped through the pages of this magic book for the answers our tongues were trying so desperately to conjure.
Night spread its opaque blanket across the sky, and she had to go and sleep. “Early class?” I asked. “You teach in the morning?”
She nodded, and we waved goodbye.
I watched telly for a bit, ate the corn-flavored Pretz (is it possible to complain that something tastes too much like corn? I mean this stuff was cobby! Whoof! File under: never try again.) After a triumphant day, sleep.