Trial and Error, Part Two

First off, I neglected to mention the punch line to the pen story, which was that it turned out to be a fountain pen, for which I of course have no ink. Serves me right for being excessively tight-fisted. Today I again only had one class, so I took the bus to Starbucks to get some work done. Truthfully, I rarely go to Starbucks in America, but having dropped my coffee habit I thought a cup would be nice, plus it was a convenient change of scenery, and a good study spot. Also very Chinese, as there were many other people there doing the same thing I was. The shopkeeper definitely spoke passable barista English, but graciously stuck to Chinese as I returned her “Hello” with a “Ni hao” and proceeded to place my order (“This week’s flavor of coffee, in the 15kuai size”, since I couldn’t find the word for “tall” in Chinese on the menu: I wasn’t willing to guess gao, the word used to describe height). The most clear improvement I’ve had since getting here is in dealing with shopkeepers and the like. Not only am I much less nervous to talk to them, I respond more quickly to questions regarding my purchase that I’m generally not expecting. Example: later when I bought a crepe thing at a convenience store, the woman asked if I wanted it heated. She only had to repeat it once for me to get what she meant.

Getting some work done meant hand copying the 1000 character essay I’d typed up (my longest Chinese composition to date) onto gridded character composition paper. If my handwriting is bad, it’s worse when I try to fit it into the tiny squares all crammed together. Of course the goal in writing Chinese is perfect symmetry and balance of the characters neatly spaced within the boxes. I’m nowhere close. I’m pretty sure I’ve written a paper approximately on a par to the first five paragraph essay I wrote for Ms. Wylie in the seventh grade, full of painfully simple phrases, casual syntax, poor dictionary lookup skills and repeated use of “although,….however…”.

The thing that stands out about Starbucks (and I think Western hotel lobbies) is that the restroom has a Western-style toilet that, wait for it...... supplies you with toilet paper. I'm pretty much used to the bathroom procedure by now, but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless. Also, after using all of the various terms we've learned over the past two years, I've finally fit upon the proper euphemism for bathroom "洗手间" or "hand-washing room".

I headed back to school in high spirits, feeling like I was really getting into life in the city and making the most of my daily schedule. Walking back from the bus stop I stopped off at my favorite baozi place (steamed buns with various fillings) and bought a couple to top off my earlier snack.

To give you the postscript to the cooking in the dorm debacle, I bought some noodles at the convenience store, and planned to cook my food tonight while the veggies were still good, despite my lack of garlic. When I got to the kitchen, I discovered I also had a lack of cooking oil, which I thought was in the cabinet with the salt, vinegar and soy sauce. Thwarted at every turn, I started boiling my pasta and cutting my veggies. I concocted a passably edible meal, but also decided that it was way too much hassle to assemble even a few basic ingredients. Perhaps if I ever buy a bag of those frozen dumplings… In any case I ate some of the broccoli and pasta, dumped the rest, grabbed one of my yogurts and put an end to my cooking experiment. I left the remaining uncooked pasta and wine (which was about as horrendous as I guessed, I tried a sip) with a note inviting other curious eaters to take them, washed the wok and left my pride somewhat injured but my stomach placated. I’m contented to stick to my current strategy of avoiding fried rice, eating simple lunches and keeping yogurt on hand. I’ve ventured somewhat farther from the back gate and discovered some different choices, and as the weeks progress I’ll take some afternoon-evening excursions in search of new options.