Miss Piggy strikes a bargain

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…..well, Christmas week has passed quietly. A curiosity here, much as you might watch a Dragon Dance & hear firecrackers in the street in your local Chinatown around the Chinese New Year & think, that's interesting, before carrying on with the weekly shopping. The kids are still hyperactive in class, probably a result of all the lollies we handed out on Christmas Eve ....

…..lesson plans for this week revolve around table settings, utensils & ordering food. In one of those cruel twists of fate that characterise the human condition the word that is the most difficult for the majority to say is, 'chopsticks'. A few can manage it but most interpret it as, cho-sti, chou-dit, cheow-tig or, possibly the closest & my favourite, choc-dicks. I have been compelled to write a one verse song to help them, as 'knife, fork & spoon' also end up as nye, for en spoo', so this masterpiece may help:

Knife, fork, spoon & chopsticks,
It's dinner time tonight
Plate, bowl, glass & napkin,
Set the table right.

Record producers please take note.....

…..to save me from having to wear my new, tailor made, lined trousers (heavy but very warm), every day, like some sixteenth century schoolboy sewn into his school clothes until the following spring, I bought some of the long-sleeved, long-legged underwear from the Da Ren Fa, as some of the other teachers have done. They're great. They look like Star Trek from the waist up & the Medieval Fayre from the waist down. I bought medium as the sizes on the back in centimetres seemed about right, with educated guesses, a little help from a shop assistant & an impersonation of Marcel Marceau to determine which numbers were leg length & which were chest size. So long as they don't shrink in the wash they'll be fine.....

…..the school is off on Friday for (western) New Year's eve & now we find that all lessons from 11.15am Thursday are cancelled as the school breaks up a day early. Some have decided to go to Shanghai for the weekend. I decide to go to Nanjing. Paul & Peter are thinking of going but maybe not until Saturday. If I'm not to reschedule both my students that I tutor privately on Sunday I should go on Thursday. Kelly & Liz recommend a couple of hostels in Nanjing & a short search on the Internet reveals Finnegan's Wake, an Irish pub not far from one of them where the nicely spoken lady on the phone tells me, in very good English, that there is no band that night but that some musicians MIGHT come in & just play for their own amusement & yes, she thinks it would be OK if I joined in. Sounds like just the way to see the New Year in. I phone up to book a bed in a hostel dorm for a couple of nights, about ¥50, or Au$8.....

…..Rainy gets me a spot on a school bus on Thursday at midday. We have at least two busloads of students from Nanjing, which is only 75km east of Yangzhou. Formerly known to English speakers as Nanking it was the capital of China until 1939 (the name means 'Southern Capital' as opposed to Beijing, the 'Northern Capital'). I sit next to a year 11 student from the International section of the school, who speaks good English & in front of one of the 3rd Grade teachers from Kelly's classes. Between us we find enough conversation to fill the one hour plus trip. Yan Xue Fei, the year 11 student, offers me a lift with his mum, who picks him up from the bus depot. They drop me off near the Fuzimiao district where I finally find the Sunflower Hostel.....

…..as I forgot to bring my passport for ID they accept my Australian driver's licence. Note: must remember passport next time I'm travelling. The place is pretty seedy, to put it mildly. Apart from the texta inscriptions on the walls, standard for hostels & sometimes even witty, the place has a very worn look about it. There are grey plastic slippers under each bed, maybe to wear in the dorm to keep the floors clean (Ha, ha!) or while in the shower. Who would be game to wear them is anyone's guess. The cupboard door under the sink falls off as I brush it with my knee while washing my hands. The toilet flushes, I discover after experimenting, by lifting the whole cistern lid up about 15cm.....


…..Finnegan's Wake, it turns out, is in a new, boutique shopping area, not yet quite established. I go to check the place out at around 4pm & there are just a bartender, the young woman who answered the phone, & a couple of patrons at the bar, an American working for Ford Motors who checks his phone every 15 seconds & an older Italian, plus a Chinese family there for a meal. Cathal, their resident singer, apparently arrives around 6pm. There may or may not be live music tonight. I go back in the freezing cold to get my violin from the hostel & look for something to eat.....

…..I end up in a busy restaurant street around the corner & choose a place to eat, not too plush but not too unsalubrious either. With the help of a patient waitress I order some dishes based on the basic ingredients, with little idea of how they will be presented. The duck is all right, a bit greasy &, as usual in China, with splintered bones needing to be spat out as you work through it. A lamb dish that is quite tasty but not outstanding then the chicken dish I thought I ordered turns out to be a soup consisting of egg & seaweed in a gigantic bowl with what appeared to be a soup ladle. I finish off the other dishes while wondering how to tackle the soup. At least I know how to ask for a bowl (wan) & a spoon (shouzi). A woman on the other side solves the problem. You use the ladle, a shallow one luckily for my clothes. Silly me......

…..at 7pm at Finnegan's Wake I have a chat with Cathal, a friendly, easy going Irishman with an expanding waistline, smoking while sorting out some background music on a laptop on the bar. There might be some musicians in later, or there might not. I can do a song or two if I want to. In the end, during one of his long breaks, with less than half a dozen people present including the bar staff, I throw in a song & a tune, later a few more people arrive, half westerners half of them Chinese, & I do a short set with Cathal before having a chat with a young Aussie & his Chinese wife & then an older New Zealander with his Chinese wife before deciding to call it a night at about 11.15pm. The fact that a pint of Guinness cost ¥68 - that's exorbitant even by western standards - may have had something to do with it. The Irish teacher who had sat at the bar working through a ¥250 bottle of Chilean wine before starting on the spirits must be on a much better salary than I am.....

…..Mark, a young American teacher working in Korea, who is sharing the dorm, is also back early. We remember to wish each other a Happy New Year before turning in as 2009 goes out, not with a bang but a whimper.....

…..the next day we are both up early, clear headed, & ready to tackle 2010. He has no specific plans, I haven't either so we both decide, after they've shuffled us to another, equally dilapidated room, to go for some street food (Michael is very keen to try street food) for breakfast, then visit the Memorial Hall for the 1937 'Rape of Nanjing' by the Japanese, a museum to the event that most visitors feel in some way obliged to visit. We find a 'hole in the wall' vendor spreading dough thinly on a hotplate, covering it with various spices & vegetables then folding & cutting into 2 substantial rolls. I am a bit dubious at first (have a look at the photos) but when I see someone else handling the money I thought it would be OK. It is absolutely delicious. We also see the most horrific butcher's display I have ever seen, also on Photobucket. I won't even attempt to describe it in words.....

…..the Memorial Hall is actually a complex of stark, modernistic buildings reflecting the deep feelings that the Japanese invasion has left in China. With some knowledge of the invasion I am prepared for some of the more confronting photos but I am impressed by the thoroughness of the presentations & the care with which every aspect of the memorial has been considered. In this case all the displays are carefully labelled in Chinese & English. There is no entry fee. They are keen for as many people as possible to see it.....

…..it is a cold day but fine & it is not at all unpleasant out in the sun. Mike is surprised at the haze & visibility. When I tell him that this is a particularly clear day he thinks I'm joking. I'm not. He says that in Korea the people are suspicious of foreigners & not at all friendly. He is in China to sound it out with the intention of moving here if it's better. I tell him my experiences. He seems impressed by the difference & witnesses it as we interact with various people during the day. By the afternoon we are ready to try a hotpot restaurant. He wants to try some hot Szechuan food.....

…..armed with two addresses from the receptionist at the Sunflower, written in Chinese characters & Pinyin, we find our way, finally, through the crowds to an impossibly crowded eatery. 2 large floors of people eating or standing & waiting for a free table. We are not sure of the protocol but after about twenty minutes of looking lost among the scurrying waiters, piles of washing up in volumes never before witnessed & customers coming & going we spot a vacated table & sit looking at the piles of discarded chicken bones & the still steaming hotpot in the middle of the table before a waiter comes to clean up. We make a little conversation with him , at least I do, Mike only knows a few words of Korean & is relying on me. The waitress is a little perplexed that we can't read the menu but gamely goes off to find an English one, though unfortunately it is removed before I can photograph some of the more exotic Chinglish offerings. We order a number of dishes, mostly priced from about ¥1.5 to ¥4. Mike is initially disappointed it isn't really that hot. Then the hot (la) spice set in. His lips start to feel a little numb. I go downstairs to order two more beers. I think he is well pleased & amazed at the price, ¥18 each, or about Au3.....

…..in the evening we decide just to explore the Fuzimiao district & just snack on the ridiculously cheap street food if we're hungry. The number of people in the area is staggering. We can hardly walk. We are objects of attention & my camera seems to attract even more. People start approaching us to have their picture taken. A beautiful young woman asks, her partner takes pictures of her with exotic foreign people, then they swap & we stand with our arms over his shoulders while she takes some pictures. Then we take some of them! Mike is obviously loving it all.....

…..only in China! A girl who looks like a China doll walks up, asks for the obligatory photos then asks if she can be our friend & speak English with us. All very suspicious to worldly western people but the degree of naivety & innocence here is both frightening & tremendously endearing. Her name is Sha Fei Fei but she says her English name is Pig! She is amused that I look shocked. I try to explain but she says, in very broken English, that pigs are very cute , especially baby ones that are her favourite animal. I decide to use her Chinese name with the option of Miss Piggy, or maybe just Miss.P. If she insists. After wandering around all the stalls & shops, buying a few paper cut pictures, Mao Tse Tung playing cards & cheap marker pens for Mike I mention that I'm looking for a good winter jacket. She seizes on the project & we all head for one of hundreds of clothing shops at about 9 pm. I find a fantastic padded jacket with good zips, lined hood, just perfect. I don't even see the marked price. She talks with the young sales assistant. He seems happy with the price. “How much?”, I ask. ¥216 she replies. Quick calculation. That's about Au$35. Done deal (the marked price is ¥419, which would still be cheap). After more street food & chatting with tourists & stallholders she finally goes off to her accommodation in another district with a promise to meet up the following day before she goes back to her home village somewhere on the other side of Yangzhou.....

…..the next morning she is outside the hostel. I have to travel back on Saturday anyway so she helps me to get a ticket at the train station, massively crowded as expected. The train leaves at 1.30pm so it's good to get a ticket & a guaranteed seat but then there's not much time for any of my planned sightseeing. Oh well a look at Xuanwu Hu & a paddle boat ride halfway across the lake with a young couple who just want to save a few yuan by sharing the cost but are really good company. He speaks English quite well, she not much. The sun is warm, no wind &, although the haze obscures the skyscrapers on the Nanjing skyline it's still a beautiful day.....

…..time for a quick bite for lunch before catching the train. It's a small, let's say very basic, cafe but friendly staff. Unfortunately the meal is too reminiscent of school cafeteria food, down to the pressed stainless steel tray with depressions to accommodate the various items ordered. It's also cold. Still it's a nice day & the food experiences this weekend have made it worthwhile. Fei Fei is more switched on than she appears at first sight. She's 20 & preparing to start a course at Nanjing university. She is apologetic about her English & mad keen to talk to native English speakers as are so many people I meet here.....

….. at the station young man with a really engaging smile from a town near Fei Fei's home village gets chatting. When the call comes to board the train a swirling sea of humanity is funnelled into the staircase that leads to the platform below. I have a backpack, a bag with my purchases, camera & other odds & ends plus another containing my prized new jacket. Fei Fei insists on carrying my violin. The crush to get on the train is phenomenal but we are finally seated. Fei Fei plays some songs for me on her mobile phone, to the annoyance of a woman sitting next to her trying to sleep. I know one of the songs from the Chinese/flamenco fusion band I was involved with in Adelaide. It's “Bu da, bu ai”, her favourite & she is surprised.....

…..I find the bus from Yangzhou station to the town centre as crowded as the train. The number 32 from Wenchang Ge to the school even worse. It's hard to believe how many people can actually be crammed into a bus standing up. I have four items to carry now. By a miracle I get a seat halfway to the school, maybe on account of my advancing years.....

…..on the bike & off to Yangzhou on Sunday morning, laptop slung across my back, to teach Qiao Tianyi (George). Today after our session grandma & grandpa have cooked up a magnificent meal, Auntie & Uncle are arriving with George's “brother”, actually his cousin. Maybe it's a result of the one child policy but I've noticed people referring to brothers & sisters when they actually mean cousins. Apart from the grandparents they all speak a little English & uncle works for a company that makes plastic fuel tanks for the car industry & was in Sydney a month ago on business, so between us we have a very interesting, if halting, conversation.....

…..I'm looking shaggy. Peter recommends the barbershop near the Da Ren Fa that he went to. I go on Sunday evening, around 6.30pm. Yes, of course they are still open. I forget to take any hairdressing vocabulary with me so rely on pointing, hand-waving, the hairdresser's teenage son, who speaks a bit of English & the words I already know for 'hair', 'long', 'longer', 'side', 'front', & 'back'. He does a great job, then they wash my hair, get me back in the chair for finishing touches & with big smiles charge me ¥20, or a bit over Au$3. I love China.....

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