My Life In China

5 Days in Chengdu: Day 3; March 7, 2005 - Dinner At SWUFE

When last we left our heroes:

Phil: You want the truth?? You can’t handle the truth!!
Isaac: 25 meters?! That’s inside the room!!! We must have missed something!!
Kirk: KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHN!!!!!!!!!

The car ride down to the hotel seems faster than the bus ride up the mountain. And you know what, it probably is. We arrive at the hotel at 3:30pm. Our contact will pick us up to take us to SWUFE at 4:30pm, so we have another hour to do nothing. Phil goes off to check his email while I squeeze what little juice is left from my iPod. I’m in the middle of listening to ‘Linus and Lucy’ (yeah I have eclectic tastes) when a random girl walks up to me. She doesn’t talk or greet me, just walks up to me and looks in my direction.

Phil pops out from nowhere and says, “Oh hello! My name is “Zhang Hui,” and this is Isaac The Foreigner.” So it’s gonna be like this, huh.

Phil tells me in English that this is the person from SWUFE. He says I can go with her, and he will go pay for using the business center. The girl (whose name I didn’t and will not get, so let’s just call her Anna) asks me in English where the bathroom is. I figure I’d better just nip this one in the bud, so I tell her in Chinese that it’s at the far end of the lobby, on the left.

“Oh, you can speak Chinese!” she says in surprise.
“Yes, I can.” I reply. Of course, I really can’t, but that’ll be my little secret. But not for long...

We then pile into the car for the ride back to Chengdu. Anna and Phil make small talk, he tells her about our trip and asks her about where she studied, and talk a little about the schedule of the presentations. He also tells her (in Chinese) that I am from the US, and that I don’t understand Chinese, but that I am learning and that she can speak English with me. I of course understand everything he says. Hey my Chinese is bad, but not THAT bad. Anyway I’m feeling a bit tired at this point, so I just zonk out. By the time I come to, we’re at the gates.

We enter the university and head for our hotel. Yes, universities in China (at least those ending with -UFE) have hotels in them, to cater to visiting professors, special guests, and freeloaders like me. I get out of the car and a portly man in his late twenties or early thirties walks up to me and gives me a warmhearted handshake. “Zhang Hui, ni hao!” he says to me. Then from the other side of the car Phil says, “No, I am Zhang Hui, this is Isaac, he is the foreigner.” Our greeter apologizes and goes over to meet Phil. Then we get our bags, check in, and head for our room. We have a little while to rest, change, and then go back downstairs to meet some people for dinner.

Much as there is a hotel on the university campus, there are also some nice restaurants, equivalent to a faculty club. While walking to the restaurant, we chit chat a bit. Our host, whom we shall call Jack, says sorry, he thought I was Phil, because I look Chinese. He says he can speak English with me, so I don’t need to worry. I chuckle and tell him I can try to speak to him in Chinese, and tell him my Chinese name, at which point he promptly ignores me. It’s about here that I think maybe this guy isn’t so nice after all. But I reserve my judgment for later.

I’d read in the past about how if you are ABC and go to China, people will think you’re a total idiot if you don’t speak totally perfect Mandarin, Cantonese, or pretty much whatever is the native dialect of the place you’re in. Shanghai people are, apparently, notorious for this. However out of the millions upon millions of people I’ve met here, I encountered that problem maybe once. Everyone else is really kind and extremely helpful. Yes, even in Shanghai they are kind and helpful, and most ask me to speak to them in English because they think it sounds nice. Funny then that it should happen to me twice in one day, here on a university campus, of all places.

We arrive at the restaurant, and meet one of the Accounting professors with whom Phil had spoken with before. We head for our room and meet the Dean and Assistant Dean of the school ("Zhang Hui, hello! And where is The Foreigner? What, THIS is the Foreigner?! Oh, I was NOT EXPECTING THAT!"). Our private room has a large table with all the proper settings (chopsticks, soup spoon, plate, tea cup, soft drink glass, wine glass, shot glass), a chandelier, television with sound system, and a sofa. While we wait for our food we sit and chat some more. Well, THEY sit and chat; I just wonder when our food will arrive. Yes, I am the hunger.

Our server for the evening asks me if I would like to drink anything. She brings a tray of drinks to me, including orange juice, coconut milk, apple juice, beer, and the old standard, Sprite™. Much as I love coconut juice (no I’m serious, I really really do!) I opt for the Sprite. So I take the can and say “Thank you.” The server looks at me funny for a second. Why? Is this supposed to be a visual menu? I’m not quite sure: see usually I just watch what other people are doing and follow them, but she asked me first. Hesitant, I put the can back. Then I decide against that, and pick it up again. Then I decide to put it back, but halfway through, just hold onto it and again say thank you.

Of course, everyone else just tells the server what they want. So they all get their drinks poured into their drink glasses at the table, and I am left holding my can of Sprite. And then our food arrives, almost all at once. Thank god, because I’m really hungry. We all walk over to our table, they with nothing in their hands, I cradling my Sprite like a sleeping kitten.

Our food looks fabulous tonight, not only because I’m hungry, but because, well, it really does look fabulous. Tonight’s menu: Steamed fish in a special sauce, the traditional delicacy known as fish heads, smoked eel, stir fried shrimp, some kind of pork, some kind of special chicken, hot and sour soup, another kind of sweet soup, and some cold appetizers. Wow, a nice setting and some authentic Sichuan food, I’m going to eat well tonight!

Well, the food looks good, and it’s authentic Chinese (duh), but I’m not sure if it’s anything special to Sichuan province, because I’ve had most of this stuff before. None of it looks terribly spicy. That, and I’ve forgotten the Two Cardinal Rules of Chinese Business Dinners: 1) No eating, just talking; and 2) No eating, just drinking.

It works like this. Whoever is the host talks a lot (and I mean A LOT), and you look at him/her intently and go, “Oh, ok. Yes, I see. Uh huh. Yes, that’s right. Uh huh. I see. Yes, that’s right. Ok. Yes, of course.” And then every now and then everyone stands up and goes, “Cheers! Cheers! To your health!” And you pretty much have to leave your seat and clink glasses with everyone in the room. Then drink all your beer/wine/brandy/Red Bull. And magically your glass gets filled again. Of course every now and then your host will say, “Eat eat! You haven’t eaten yet!” And you nod sheepishly and put some food on your plate. But that’s just for show, the rest of the time you repeat the two rules until the evening is over.

So, I’m hungry, and all I can do is stare at the food and listen to our Dean and Assistant Dean talk. That’s actually ok with me, it’s not anything I wasn’t expecting. Real Dinner always comes after Dinner in these cases. What makes the evening really annoying is my New Friend Jack who sits next to me. Did I mention before that I thought he wasn’t all he was cracked up to be? Well, let me show you how the evening went with him sitting next to me:

“Isaac, see how they are all toasting each other? Here, to your health and my students.”
“Ok, thanks, cheers.”
This next part I'm not making up or exaggerating at all, he actually said this, “Isaac, here in China we eat dinner differently. All the food goes in the center in big dishes and bowls and we share the food. Not like in Western countries, where everyone eats their own food.”
Yeah dude, it’s called ‘Family Style’ where I come from. But I just say, “Ooooooh. Ok”
“Isaac, I notice you don’t talk much. Is it because you don’t understand our culture, or you don’t know our language?”
Apparently, he doesn’t do this much, or else he would know the Two Rules. But I just go, “I’m sorry, I was listening to the Dean speak, what did you say?”
“Isaac, can you get used to this kind of culture, when everyone goes to dinner and blah blah blah…”

At that last one I thoroughly decide that this guy was just a pretentious, patronizing prick. Especially after I try a few times to tell him that yes, I know what you’re talking about, and then try to have an actual conversation with him. But it’s when he starts “teaching” me about the delicious rice food wrapped in lotus leaves that are ‘like dumplings’ where I give up. The following responses to Professor Dumplings fill my head:

“Dude shut up already. I’ve eaten these since before I learned how to walk. Hell I’ve probably had more than you. I can MAKE these at home. Bet you can’t do that!”
“Oh really? And they’re made out of, what’s it called again, Ri-ise?”
“Yeah ok, look at my face, do I look like Joe not-Chinese to you? I eat this stuff all the time, and if I didn’t in the States, I would have over the past year. And if I didn't know what it was, I would have asked you, cuz that's what we rowdy loud-mouth Foreigners like to do, talk when we're not supposed to and ask stupid questions. It’s not like this stuff is hard to find, it’s pretty much like Cantonese food. Do you know how much Cantonese food is in LA? Can you even speak Cantonese? Well guess what, I CAN, so shut your trap and drink your wine.”

Does that make me sound like an ass? My apologies if it does, but hey, he was really getting on my nerves. Anyway, I just politely tell him that yes, I know what these rice dumplings are, I’ve actually eaten them before both here in China AND at home in the US. He looks very surprised by this. I ignore him and try to eat something.

So basically we have all this delicious food, and yet all we can do is look at it and smile pleasantly, while the Dean-of Something-More-Important-Than-Eating keeps talking. Of course we interrupt this lopsided conversation for the occasional toast and Downing of Great Wall Red Wine.

Luckily we still have snacks left over, which I dig into when we get back to our room. We’re too tired to go out and eat again, so I just munch on peanuts and dried fruit. We still both have work to do, as tomorrow we begin our presentations, bright and early at 8am. First up, yours truly with a talk on how to be an effective writer.

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