Out of Dodge

This weekend was our chance to get out of the city with our roommates. Xiaojun and I were originally going to go to Suzhou, another city near Shanghai, but I think she was a little uncomfortable navigating a new city, and we ended up getting an invitation to go to her friend’s house (Her friend, Lifang, is Yazhen’s roommate). So on Friday morning the four of us got on the city bus to go to the bus station and head out to Shaoxing.

When we got off the bus, Xiaojun seemed to be asking Lifang where to find something. I asked her what we were doing, and she said “Big Head Card”, which of course made no sense to me, so I followed along compliantly as we entered a big indoor market. Yazhen again tried to ask exactly what was going on, and they told us something about pictures. I thought we were looking for a camera, which seemed like a mildly logical last minute purchase. And then suddenly we rounded a corner and were faced with several large photo booths, and it all came together. We were seated around a table and the salesclerks (who thought our roommates were hired guides) thrust various catalogs at us and told us to choose ten frames for our pictures. I chose an assortment of very asian-teenager flowery ones, plus one or two truly tacky shots of scenery and Chinese tourist attractions. I then went into a booth to take the pictures for the frames. As some of you may know, Asians strive for beautiful, pale complexions. With this in mind, the booths are lined with harsh white fluorescent lights. True enough, Xiaojun and Lifang came out with glowing white faces. I, on the other hand, was practically invisible on the screen as I tried in vain to pose in such a way that looked mildly flattering and fit in the frame. It was the first of many “really really Asian things” I got to experience this weekend.

We were greeted at Lifang’s house with a home-style lunch (several various dishes to pick off of, finished off with a bowl of rice). Early afternoon we were enjoying some glorious Asian soap operas (there are no words, they’re truly fabulous), when Lifang asked if we wanted to sing Karaoke. I thought she meant later that evening, but before I could blink I was presented with a stack of CDs and out came the microphones. Though my knowledge of Chinese pop is limited, it must at least me relatively current because the CDs, bought probably 3 to 5 years ago, had only one or two songs I recognized on them. Though the singing was mostly dominated by our roommates, Yazhen and I belted out a few nervous rounds of “Lao Shu Ai Da Mi” and “Ni Shi Wo De Mei Gui Hua”, and I attempted a few songs I’d never heard before, at least the ones that were a bit slower. The fun had wound down when in walked Wang Jianhong and his roommate (I’m still not sure how they ended up in the picture, but they spent Friday and Saturday with us).

The six of us, plus Lifang’s 10 year old brother, walked to a nearby “scenic area” to walk around a bit before dinner. Her brother was thoroughly impressed by Jianhong, and was constantly poking at him, comparing their heights, and trying on his sunglasses. Dinner was a lot like lunch, with the addition of a few extra dishes. During the meal, it actually took me quite a while to figure out that the reason I couldn’t understand most of the conversation was that the family was not speaking Mandarin, but their local dialect. Lifang’s mother put in a few sentences of Mandarin for us, but in general it seemed like the parents couldn’t really speak Mandarin. The brother’s speech was also heavily peppered with the dialect, and if you add in the fact that he was a loud ten year old who wanted to explain everything to everyone without making much sense, you can understand that I ended up tuning out a lot of what he said.

In the evening, we went to a nearby park. This is what my Chinese experience has been missing. The Chinese know how to do parks. When I was in Beijing, I loved walking through and seeing the various goings on in the several parks near where I was staying. In the morning was the taiji and various strange looking exercises of the older men, that I am convinced are remnants of some communist daily aerobics plan. In the early evening was the ballroom dancing, and as it got later the tables were all filled with people playing cards and Chinese chess. I haven’t found any good parks near ZUT (the University where I am), and I haven’t gotten up early enough to see whether or not there’s good taiji on campus, so a good stroll through the park was exactly what I needed. There were people playing badminton, watching a movie on a large TV, and sitting around the big fountain in the center of the park. Though there was no informal dancing, we did stumble upon a wonderfully extravagant dance contest, and stayed long enough to see a couple wearing the most outrageous clothing (she a pink sequined top and short skirt, he high waisted dance pants and a black lace top, both dancers were over 50) dance a cha-cha, and a veritable army of expressionless women in white T-shirts and red pants dance some sort of traditional march while grasping bundles of chopsticks in each hand.

Saturday was the true adventure. We went to “Keyan Scenic Area” which was effectively a state park. It had a rather steep entrance fee of 100 yuan, one of my more expensive single purchases, but I decided rather quickly that it was worth it. This place had everything you could want in a tourist attraction, and so much more. When we entered, we found ourselves in the midst of several old style houses, which we were told were the home of the wife of a famously revered author. The houses were mostly converted into souvenir shops, but one had several traditionally clad men sitting outside. When we went in to investigate, we found the room decorated as a provincial court, and within a few minutes a judge had appeared and the men who’d been outside came in and acted out a trial scene. When we went back outside, a beggar woman (also part of the show) appealed to us for help, saying that her son had died. Lifang explained that these people, of whom there were several throughout the little village, were characters written by the author, acting out bits of his stories. We went in to a teahouse where one (a scholar of some sort) was camped out, and sat down for a pot of tea. Lifang also ordered a local specialty for us to try. Anyone who’s familiar with Chinese food has probably heard of chou dofu (stinky tofu), a dish that is famously offered up to foreign guests, who politely try a bite and then refuse to go near the stuff again. This was what was presented to us (it was literally available everywhere we went, they take their local specialties seriously here). I am here to say that it’s not that bad. (The other two were revolted by it, so I’ll leave you all to make your own decision) True, when it’s on the table you think you are standing distantly downwind from a porta-potty, but there’s none of that in the taste. It’s just a crumbly tofu taste, dipped in hoisin sauce. The key is not to inhale through your nose while eating. I doubt I’ll order it willingly, just because there’s not too much appeal besides the weird factor, but I suppose it’s a good party trick to be the foreigner who will willingly eat chou dofu.

The next series of buildings had been converted into museum-ish things, mostly just empty rooms with a few signs hanging around. One room, called “Room of the Crazy Man”, proved somewhat more interesting. When you enter, there is a small doorway to your right, which puts you into a hallway with black and white linoleum tiles and a slanted floor. Turn into the next room, and you discover the whole room is tilted, with various odd pieces of furniture plus a tank of water sticking out at an odd angle from the wall, indicating which way is level. The whole thing is a gloriously pointless construction, vaguely reminiscent of a diorama of an Escher painting. Out the other end of the room, you come across a plaster cave with teeth around the opening. Enter the cave and you find yourself in a long tunnel, designed with pink rubber floors and walls to resemble the insides of some strange creature, who has apparently just eaten a person, because there are plaster arms strewn about. The whole thing was thoroughly comical, and also very much out of place. The next few rooms more closely resembled the museum feel, except they contained hallways of one-way glass that occasionally lit up to reveal really hideous mannequin reenactments of various undistinguishable historical events. The final museum building proved far less interesting, with rather typical display cases, save the two foot wide bust of Deng Xiaoping placed among the antique shoes and fans.

After a boatride to a nearby island, we cashed in our tickets for free cups of the local alcohol (sort of like saltless soy sauce mixed with whiskey) and ordered a few dishes for lunch. The afternoon contained almost equally interesting activities, including walks through some park areas, an archery range, pony rides, feeding the armies of giant goldfish, a lake cruise, a children’s sculpture garden/playground and a Buddhist site. All in all a full day, with new surprises around every bend.

In the evening we went in to town to walk around a bit, but didn’t spend too much time as Yazhen wasn’t feeling well. We did, however, stay long enough to go sit in the McDonalds for a while (See pictures). Later, I played cards with the roommates and Lifang’s mother (and figured out most of the rules by the end) The game was pretty similar to “President”, but much harder, and much more reliant on strategy. Lifang’s mother was exceptionally good, and I felt like an idiot every time I got down to one or two seemingly really good cards, and then sat around for five rounds until everyone else had played all of theirs.

Sunday brought more surprises. At breakfast, Xiaojun was talking to Lifang’s brother, and the two were having some sort of jokingly argumentative conversation. I wasn’t really listening, but I got curious enough and started trying to figure out what they were talking about. Turns out they were playing a game, which Chinese speakers might appreciate as a really difficult but useful way to practice the language: one of them would say a word, generally two characters long, and then the other would say a word that started with the last character of the previous word (办法，法律，律师，师父，etc). My vocabulary’s not big enough to play, but it was exciting when I could follow them for several rounds. As we head off to buy our return tickets, the girls explained to us that we were going to a youlechang. I knew I’d studied that word, but I couldn’t place it for some reason. Yazhen helped me out, but I still had no idea where we were going, as youlechang means amusement park, and that didn’t make sense as a way to kill time before boarding a train. I was again proved wrong, as we crossed the street from the train station to a very large indoor arcade. I bought 20 yuan worth of tokens and set off. After variously attempting a motorcycle racing machine and knock off DDR (I don’t understand the appeal of DDR), I settled on my old favorite (skeeball) for several rounds. The girls wanted to go to the haunted house, so I grudgingly shelled out another 20 (I know I sound cheap here, and indeed I am a bit, but although 20 yuan is only about $2.70, I can buy lunch for a week for less). Lifang got cold feet, so the remaining three of us, holding hands, wove our way through the dark haunted house, with various mechanical creatures and eerily-clad actors stepping in our path along the way. (Chinese people scare very easily) Yazhen and I mostly rolled our eyes, though I was put off by the two actors I knew were right behind me but couldn’t see. I was actually a bit more scared the second time I went through, with the lights on, trailing behind two guys who worked there looking for my camera (found). Anyway, all in all a great weekend, and I’ve finally got some pictures up for you.