Thursday, October 27, 2005

Go Soxs!

The White Sox have won the World Series! So, why should I care? I have no idea. I mean, I really don't like baseball. Sure, I'll go to watch the Everett Aquasox on July 4th and enjoy being at the ballpark. But I more enjoy watching the crowd and between inning promotions than the game. As the game progresses and they start having conferences at the pitcher's mound, I'm ready to head home... or at least to the concession stand. Nor do I think being born and raised in the Chicago suburbs is a factor. When the Bulls (or, as my sister would say, Michael Jordan) were doing their thing in the 90's, I didn't bother watching any games. But when I heard the Sox were in the series, I started checking out the sports pages on the newspaper web sites and actually monitored the last two games online. (I'm sure it was easier for me to follow Game 3 in the early afternoon than it was for you folks back in the States. ;) )

I have to wonder why this is so. I guess that somewhere along the way, baseball embedded itself in my brain as the important sport. It was on the TV at my grandfather's house. And baseball--or its descendants softball, kickball or whiffleball--were the sports most frequently played in school or in the neighborhood. So, even though I'd rather watch soccer or hockey, when the home team gets into the World Series--that's important news. Verily, the human mind is an odd place.

Monday, October 24, 2005

:(


My blog is worth $0.00.
How much is your blog worth?



(sniff)

You are what you eat

Okay, it's time to come clean. It's time to give the people what they want. I know, I've been there. I've read other weblogs. I've peeked through that window into other people's lives, to experience vicariously what I'm not able to experience first hand. But that pales after awhile and the exotic becomes familiar. When that happens, there's only one thing that will awaken one's interest. Especially when you're reading about a regular guy in a foreign land. You start wondering, has he... done it yet? If so, how often? What's it like? Was it good? Well, I know you've been asking these questions, and I figure it's high time to give you the answers. Okay, I confess. The answer is yes. I have eaten bugs.

Feasting on insects was not really on my to do list. I mean, it took me a good thirty years before I tried shrimp. Expanding my culinary horizons was something I saw as an unavoidable evil rather than a goal. Of course, there are other people who make introducing exotic foodstuffs their life's work. I think one of my colleagues, Rich, is that sort of person. When we were in Kunming earlier this month, he and his wife were our hosts. For one of our meals, we went to a restaurant (I forget what ethnic group it was) and they did the ordering. Amongst the "normal" food, he ordered a four part variety pack--bees, bamboo worms, pig intestines and cashews. I had to show I was not a wimp and sampled all four. I took a second helping of the bees. (I preferred the cashews, but then, so did everyone else. They were cleared out before I could get my fill.)

Then, this past Saturday, Rich visited us and Thad invited us out to lunch. (Or maybe it was the college president. I don't know who's idea it was. All I know is that a lot of guys sat down to lunch.) Much to our surprise, we went to the local ant restaurant. Actually, I probably should have mentioned the ant restaurant before now. It's a little joint on the main road heading away from campus. We pass it all the time. It has a sign hanging outside adorned with a photo of a dish of food and two illustrated ants. (The latter enlarged to show texture.) We couldn't figure out what was up with that sign at first. Yau Neih thought it was bad marketing. Me, I was wondering if it was advertising an exterminator. After a few weeks, we found out that the ants were on the menu. And now, we got to sample said fare. (termites, too, but the termites were mixed with pork, so that's not as impressive.) All I can say is--ants trump bees. Even if they are harder to pick up with your chopsticks.

The thought that keeps coming back to me, as I muse on these culinary adventures, is that of my sainted grandmother. The poor woman had tried to get me to eat many good staples of German-American cooking--fruits, veggies, rinderwurst--but I stubbornly refused every offer. Since there are no tears in Heaven, she must be looking down at me and having a good laugh.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

You know you're an expatriate when...

...your wife's English class gets to read your birthday card before you do.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

(Don't talk with your mouth full)


100_0718
Originally uploaded by Yuek Hahn.
The end of the latest "pig" bread saga is rather boring. On Sunday afternoon, we went to the bakery and our bread was laid out on the counter. We packed up the loaves, paid our 92 kuai, and left. (Well, we also bought some butter.)(The butter is... interesting. Unsalted, of course, and far more orange than the stuff at home. But it seems to work.)

The loaves were bigger than the test loaf of the night before, but still only about a third of the size of your typical loaf of sandwich-size bread that you'd buy in the States. It also cost more than what we spent in our first bread adventure. Of course, if you tell yourself that it's only fifty cents U.S., then you can justify the cost to yourself. Plus the clerk gave Siu Wan a free treat from the display case. Can't beat service like that...

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Holy cow!

The White Sox in the World Series?!? You've got to be kidding me! This is because I left the country, isn't it? sigh. Now I've gotta figure out how to watch the World Series in China. The China Daily website hasn't mentioned a thing about it, so I'm sure it's not going to be on TV.)

To seek out new loaf

We now return to the saga of the quest for "pig" bread. As we last left our intrepid bread hunters, they had been dealt a devastating blow. Although they had succeeded in their quest for whole wheat flour, the bakery had closed down and their waiban was on holiday. Left alone with no language skills and no connections within the baking community, they had no choice but to go on holiday themselves and to eat at a lot of western restaurants.

On the Monday after our Kunming trip, Thad dropped by to visit. We heard about his holiday (it sounded like a great camping trip) and told a bit about ours. We also told him about how our bakery seemed to have vanished. He replied with typical Thaddish concern and promised to look into it. The next day he told us that he had tried to call the bakery, but the phone had been disconnected as well. So any hopes that they had merely relocated were dashed. Thad did suggest that he might go and inquire at the other shops around there to see if there was any gossip about the bakery. He also said that he had a plan to try and get the school's cafeteria to bake the bread for us. The only drawback to that plan was that they had just hired a new head chef, or whatever they call him, and Thad wanted to wait a couple of weeks to let him get settled into doing his regular job of feeding the students.

We accepted Thad's plan with mixed feelings. Getting our bread baked on campus was quite convenient, but we didn't know if we wanted to wait for two weeks or more for it. Somewhere along the way me mentioned the dilemma to our neighbor, Joan, who of course had no ambivalence about the matter. Upon her suggestion, we would seek out a new bakery to make us a stopgap batch of bread. Actually, Joan was the one to do the seeking. I have no clue as to how she proceeded. The next thing I knew, it was Friday afternoon and Yau Neih was taking a load of flour with Joan and Michael to our new baker. If I wasn't so busy that day, I would have tagged along. I might have also questioned the wisdom of handling this without someone with better Chinese language skills. But like I said, I was busy. Nor do I have Joan's chutzpah in engaging the culture.

On Saturday afternoon, we returned to see if the bread was ready. This time we brought the whole family. But, of course, the answer was "mei yo." We don't have it. There seemed to have been a problem with the bread rising. Joan had tried to tell them to mix our whole wheat flour with white flour, so that the dough would rise better, but, of course, you lose a lot when you communicate by sign language. The bakery folks seemed to indicate that the loaves would be ready at 10:00 pm, so we left them to their business. Joan seemed eager to return at 10, to try to retrieve the bread. I, pessimistically, thought it might be better to just try again tomorrow, to give the bakers some extra time. Anyway, each household had other business which needed tending, so we went our separate ways.

Later, after English corner, we reconvened to plot our strategy. Yau Neih wanted to get the kids in bed and Michael had to study for the next morning's Mandarin lesson, but Joan and I were game to try again. I wasn't expecting the bread, really, but I was willing to make the attempt. As I suspected, the bread wasn't ready. A sales clerk with a few words of English took us into the back room and showed us that the loaves weren't rising. She then took us back into the office as a quiet place to try and communicate. Whoever the boss was, they sure had nice digs. We sat on the leather upholstered furniture as the bakery clerk tried to give us the scoop. That process didn't go so well, though at one point another clerk brought us free Cokes. I got the impression at one point that she was saying that the bread wouldn't be ready for a week! Finally she did manage to get across that they would try to bake one loaf and see how it turned out. This seemed okay to us. Joan wanted to try to do some shopping, so at first I was going to just wait at the bakery. At this point, however, some important looking woman walked in. Everything about her demeanor indicated that she was not amused. She was polite, of course, but I quickly changed my mind and decided to stick with Joan.

We bade them goodbye and made our way to the supermarket. It was just before closing time, but Joan managed to pick up what she wanted. One thing about the supermarkets here is that they seem to have a gazillion clerks just hanging around in the aisles. Or I should say that when we normally go, they're just hanging around. At this point in the evening they were all busy mopping the aisles. When we got to the checkout counter, a large group of them were waiting at the entrance, coats in hand. Fortunately there was one customer behind us, so I didn't feel as bad about keeping them all. ("It's not my fault, it's his!") We then headed back to the bakery, as all around us shops were closing and people were heading home.

This time at the bakery we were told to wait at the counter. Our helpful clerk went upstairs and fetched us our test loaf. It was about the size of a burrito. We sampled a taste and deemed it was good... enough. It was definitely whole wheat bread, but the baker had put too much sugar in the mix. The clerk seemed to say that they were going to try some other trick, but of course, that was just my conjecture. We thanked them and said we'd pick up the rest in the morning. It wasn't the best bread I've ever had, but it was a bit better than the stuff in the stores. Plus I had to respect the efforts of the bakery staff, trying to make bread to please a bunch of crazy foreigners. So we left for home, wondering what we'd find on the morrow.

Sunday, October 16, 2005

I'm going to sing you a song

Well, not really. I did sing, though, the other night when Yau Neih had her first English corner. I mean, sure, we've both helped out at English corners before, but this was Yau Neih's first turn at running the show.

During our training, we learned about the whole concept of English corner and were encouraged to start one when we started teaching. Well, when we got here, we discovered that there were two English corners already established--one at the college and one in the community. Like I mentioned, we've helped out at both. Anyway, I don't know where the idea originated but this past Friday we started a new English corner, focusing on English songs and dances. (either Yau Neih was determined to have her own corner or Michael suggested that she stick to her original plan to start a new corner)

The new corner's debut was fraught with stress. We had our usual Friday responsibilities, of course, and then we had to enact a last minute plan to write up the song lyrics on paper rather than a chalkboard. (A good idea since the chalkboards are always covered with messages we can't read. You never quite know what you're erasing.) This required us to run out and get some large paper and a marker. Then, to further complicate matters, Yau Neih ran out with our neighbors in an attempt to get some more bread made. (more on that in another post) This didn't happen until late afternoon and come 5:30--an hour before showtime--she had still not returned home. Fortunately she had planned an extremely easy supper and I was able to start making dinner. A bit before 6:00 pm she showed up and we were able to gobble up our spaghetti and make it to the corner on time.

When we got to the corner, only a few students seemed to be waiting. We had no clue about how many would actually show up. She had scheduled the corner for Friday night, in part because we didn't want to draw students away from the more academic and perhaps less entertaining English corners. For those we've been getting as many as 75 participants. So upon arriving at corner, it seemed that the turnout would be on the low end of our expectations. Oh, well. I went and fetched a big stack of stools anyway and started setting them up. We started with around ten students, Michael, Siu Wan and myself. Yau Neih started with a couple of kiddie songs: "Hello There" and "The More We Get Together". As we sang, more folks joined in. Whether they were latecomers or just passers by, I don't know. We were up to around 25-30 when Yau Neih started in on the first verse of "Scarborough Fair". I know, it's not the simplest English song to teach, but we have heard the tune wafting from a few places around here. The students picked up on the tune right away and we could pretty much just jump right into singing the song. After "Scarborough Fair", she then taught the first verse of "River of Jordan". That one ran a bit awkward, having a less regular rhythm. It was one we had performed at the Mid-Autumn festival party, and the kids seemed to like it when we sang it. Or maybe they were just being polite.

After "Jordan", we then got up for the dancing portion of the program. I have yet to discover what sort of reputation American culture has in these parts, but I can assure you, we did our best to degrade that reputation. Yau Neih started with "The Hokey Pokey", which amused the participants and confused the onlookers. (By the way, our numbers had grown to about 40.) After that she led the group in "London Bridge" and "Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes". (I don't know how much English the former teaches, but the latter does cover a number of anatomical terms.) Finally, she taught some circle dance that involved a lot of direction.

After the dancing we settled down and she told that classic tale, "The Gingerbread Man". Actually, the students' love of stories was something she had discovered in class. (What possessed her to attempt this in class, I don't know.) Likewise here, everyone seemed to enjoy the tale. I did resist the temptation to point out that the way I had heard it, it was a little old lady and little old man who brought this creature into existence. We can always save literary criticism for a later corner. Anyway, after the G-man met his fate, we gave "Scarborough Fair" and "River a Jordan" another go through, and then ended the evening with "Good Night, Ladies."

So ended our first musical English corner. Actually the music twist seems like one of those divine coincidences. Yau Neih had taken up teaching Musikgarten to pay for her Master's Degree, and had no idea that the skills picked up there would have any use outside of a Musikgarten class. But then again, I suppose that just goes to show that any sort of education can prove useful. (Though I still have my reservations about teaching "The Hokey Pokey.")

Thursday, October 13, 2005

Hey, you!

Yesterday, as Yau Neih and I were walking back from the Wall Market (no relation to a certain American organization--that's just what Thad calls it), a woman started yelling at us. Since she wasn't yelling in English, we had no clue what she was going on about. Maybe she was scolding me for not posting yesterday.

Seriously, it was kind of weird. Like I said, we were walking back from the store. We passed a street vendor selling apples and a few other fruits and Yau Neih remembered that she had forgotten to pick up some. So we bought some from the vendor--our first street vendor purchase ever. We walked on for about a half block when I became aware of some woman yelling. I glanced back and didn't really see who she was yelling at. A few paces on, since the hollering continued, I looked back again. This time I noticed that she was walking in the same direction as us. I guess we must have slowed or paused, because she did the same and directed some of her verbiage and gestures in our direction. It was a bit odd, since she did not gaze at us directly, but would make brief eye contact and then look off again--facing us, but not staring us down. I tried to recall if direct eye contact was one of those Chinese taboos or if I was getting confused with some other culture. We really couldn't pick up any gist of what she was saying. At one point she gestured back the way we came, at another time she gestured toward her mouth and stomach. I checked all my pockets and bags wondering if we had dropped something, then I wondered if maybe she was looking for a handout. (Of course, she was pretty well dressed for a panhandler.) Then I wondered if she was just bawling us out for being fat Americans. God only knows. In the end we had to mumble "Wa boo ming bai" (I don't understand) and walk on. Another guy was walking along the sidewalk as well and he seemed to indicate that she was a bit crazy. (Of course, for all I know, she was yelling about him and was trying to tell us his multitude of sins against her.)

It was a tad frustrating. Whatever her mental state, the woman was obviously distressed. I wish I could have done something for her, even if it was only to understand what she was blamming about.

Monday, October 10, 2005

The wheels on the bus go....


100_0603
Originally uploaded by Yuek Hahn.
...for a short while at least. We got back from Kunming about 3:30 in the morning. We left there a bit after 9:00 am, for what was supposed to be a twelve hour trip. It was somewhat pleasant, though the in-drive movies were rather lame. (For the last one, they were playing the English soundtrack for 20 minutes before the driver realized his mistake.) A bit over halfway there, we pulled off for a WC break and the driver and mechanic started messing with the bus. A few hours later, they gave up and an hour or so after that, the replacement bus showed up. The kids were quite anxious about it all, but Yauh Neih and I were okay with it all. A bit annoyed that we didn't know what was going on--but that was hardly the bus company's fault. The final leg of the journey was the worst of it all. I couldn't seem to find a position from which I could sleep or sit comfortably. So instead I fidgeted and watched the clock change and mileposts slowly go by.

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

On the road again

Well, in less than six hours I'll be on the road to Kunming. The workers in our organization are spread out all over Yunnan and we're gathering for a long weekend together. I guess in years past the custom was to gather in November for an expatriate Thanksgiving holiday. This year, however, there's a conference in Hong Kong which the teachers are encouraged to attend. (We won't, since Yau Neih's the only one invited and she doesn't want to leave the kids.) So it was decided to get together over the October break, instead. We get to try out the sleeper bus and bright and early Thursday morning we'll roll into Kunming. Unless we get hijacked by desperadoes or something. Anyway, I've got mixed feelings about the whole thing. I'll love seeing the folks and having some fun in Kunming. But we're still getting used to life here and I have a bit of reluctance to take a break from it so soon. I would imagine that I would have enjoyed a November vacation a bit better. Oh, well. Like many things in life, I suppose once we start out, I'll sit back and enjoy it.

Ironically, this is all a bit similar to our routine surrounding the Puyallup Fair. The fair is held in September, right after (if not during) a busy time where work is asking for overtime and we've been scrambling to fit summer activities into the schedule. (Well, that's how it used to be, anyway.) To Yauh Neih, the fair is a sacred tradition. To me, at that time of the year, I think of the fair as an over-priced pain in the neck. But when the day arrives, I go and have a good time. I'm hoping the same will hold true here and I'll have all sorts of posts telling of what fun I had on my holiday. Or at least a post about the horrors of sleeper-busses....

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Though you look for them, they will not be found

The bread venture is on hold. I took my little sack of flour out to the bakery this morning and the door was open! However, when I peered inside, the entire place was cleared out. There was a small truck in front of the store. Whether they were moving a new tenant in or were just there to remove the sign, I don't know. Either way, we need to find a new baker for our pig bread. (Especially since Thad had arranged to get a regular shipment of the whole wheat flour sent to us via his wife and mother-in-law.)(The latter being a noodle manufacturer.) But that will require some serious language help. In the meantime, we'll have to hunt down recipes for pancakes, tortillas and other foodstuffs that don't require an oven.

Monday, October 03, 2005

How many have bread enough to spare?

Sometimes my timing's good but the other people's are off. Today I returned to the mill--this time taking Yau Neih with me--in search of whole wheat flour. The weather wasn't quite as pleasant as there wasn't the nice breeze we had yesterday, but it was still a nice walk. And a successful one, too! That for which I had hoped yesterday happened today. I walked in, they confirmed that I wanted the brown flour, and then they loaded me up. To top it off, when I tried to pay, the mill guy refused to name a price. Of course, I would have none of that and thrust a 20 upon him. Then he thrust 10 kuai change back at me. We then parted company with big smiles and well wishes. (Well, I assumed he was wishing us well...)

We took a quick cab ride home (after walking back to the highway) and proceeded to divvy up our flour. We didn't want to shlep the whole amount to the baker, as we couldn't store that much bread. Last time we had 11 bags of loaves and that was too much for two households. Since that last adventure, we had accumulated a couple of airtight plastic jars, which we now used for flour storage. That only made a dent in the flour supply, so I scooped a like amount into a plastic bag. It was a stopgap measure until we could go out and buy some sort of sealable container. It was after 11:00 already, so we hurried out to the bakery. Wouldn't you know it, the bakery was closed up tight. We turned ourselves about and headed home, stopping only to buy a lidded pail (which I hope is airtight enough) and a few groceries.

Later in the afternoon, after rest time, I ventured back to the bakery. As I suspected, it was still closed. Yau Neih started to wonder if the place might not have gone out of business. I held out that they were simply on holiday. Either way, we had no choice but to return home and put our new flour bucket to use. I'll try again tomorrow, and if they're still closed, I'll have to put the bread scheme on hold until next week. (Even I'm not foolish enough to try and communicate this bread idea with a brand new bakery.) Stay tuned...

Sunday, October 02, 2005

We have no bread

Sometimes my timing is lousy. Take this past week. Our fabled supply of pig bread ran out. (Well, actually the last morsel was eaten this morning, but we knew earlier this week that we were running out.) When we first took delivery of the bread, Joan, the originator of the scheme, expressed a desire to try for a true whole wheat recipe the next time. Our family, however was content with the half wheat, half white flour mixture, so we decided that we would attempt to replenish our supply without the aid or collaboration of our neighbors. Besides, they were getting ready for their October holiday.

Therein lies the problem--everybody is getting ready for their holiday. Including Thad, who made the arrangements the last time, and ourselves, who are venturing to the provincial capitol on Wednesday night. Now if we were wise, we would have tried to get some new bread the week before. But we let our reluctance to bother Thad delay us until a few days before he was scheduled to leave town. Even then we only mentioned it in passing. It wasn't until Friday, when he helped us poor waifs purchase bus tickets, that we tried to get some serious help from him. Actually, at that point we were just asking for some information about the mill so that we might attempt to do things ourself. But in typical Thaddian fashion he took us out to the mill right then and there. (In the President's Buick yet! I would never have the guts to take my boss' car down that pothole collection that leads to the mill.) When we arrived at the mill, everything was closed up. Fortunately, however, foreigners in the neighborhood attracts attention and the lady from whom we purchased flour the last time came out to talk with us. It turned out that Friday was not a whole wheat milling day and that the next one was Sunday. We were told to try back then.

So we did. The most convenient plan seemed to be that after church, we'd get off the bus by the supermarket, I would walk down to the mill while Yau Neih and the girls did the daily shopping. Thad was not involved because he left on Saturday morning for a nice camping trip. So a bit after noon, I made my solo excursion towards the mill. It was a very pleasant walk--much more comfortable than the drive would have been. The sun was shining and there was enough of a breeze to keep it from being too hot. It was almost a perfect country stroll, Yunnan style. On my left were banana trees and small ponds, begging to be photographed, on my right was the broken glass-topped brick wall of the military base, begging that I leave anything remotely camera-like at home. In the distance were the green hills and mountains. The road was damp, but not muddy, except for a few easily avoidable puddles. Although I didn't see any livestock, I could see a few hoofprints as I walked along.

When I got to the mill, the doors were open and I could hear the milling machines at work inside. I paused by the driveway and wrote down my phrase, "wor syung mai myen fern." (I'd like to buy wheat-flour) I was hoping that the same woman would be around, would recognize me and I wouldn't even need my phrase. Of course, that was not the case. The only person in the building was a middle-aged man. I laid my phrase upon him, and he obviously did not understand. But being an old hand at not being understood, I had my finger in the book at the page containing "Myen fern". After a clumsy perusal of the word list, I indicated that word and he nodded to indicate his understanding. Now, it often happens when I have carefully prepared Mandarin phrases, people don't follow the script. Like at the supermarket when I bring my groceries to the checkout and the clerk asks me a question. (After a month, I finally found out that they were asking me for my club card. Who would've thought that Safeway had extended that far?) I'm left looking dumb and trying to mumble "Wa boo ming bai". (I really need to learn the Mandarin phrase for "I'm sorry, but my ability in your language extends only to the phrase I just recited, and even that is fading fast, so don't ask me to repeat it.")

Anyway, true to form, the mill guy read the indicated word and then said something to me. Whether he was asking a question or insulting my mother, I don't know. I think he tried rephrasing the statement, but of course, that didn't help. Another worker came by and said something to the first guy. I had a brief hope that he had recognized me from one of my previous trips and had a bag of pig flour waiting for me. Alas, this was not the case. He might have said something about my previous ventures, however, because soon after the first guy motioned me over to the milling machines. He showed me a handful of the whole wheat flour, and then a handful of white flour. I indicated that I wanted the whole wheat and he promptly shook his head. Oh, well, that was that. I shrugged and apologized and tried to leave. he wasn't about to let me off so easily. He started talking again and I tried to apologizing again. I walked towards the door and he started saying "two" and "three". Not in English of course, that much Mandarin I do recognize. (Especially when people hold up fingers.) At first I thought he had taken pity on me and was going to sell me some flour anyway. But he wasn't saying any of the Mandarin words for money. Finally in desperation, he pulled out a pen and grabbed a scrap of paper off the ground. (We were at the door of the mill at this point. I don't want to give the impression that the mill has papers lying on the floor or anything.) He wrote a 2 and a 3, each along with some character I didn't recognize. I opened the phrasebook to the Chinese section, but soon realized that my finding that character was pretty hopeless. Then, in a burst of frustrated inspiration, he wrote 2005 and 10 along with the 2, 3 and unrecognized characters. Aha! He was writing the date! He was telling me to come back tomorrow. I felt incredibly stupid, because we had covered time and all that in our Mandarin lessons. (Then again, I'm not sure if we covered the word for "third" or "tomorrow".) I somehow indicated my comprehension, thanked him and left in good spirits. I had no flour, but I had hope of maybe getting some tomorrow. And next time I'll know better. I'll write down how to say, "I'd like to buy brown wheat-flour."