10/15

What a splendid night.  And splendid is not a term I use loosely.

Like I said in my last post, I'm finally getting comfortable.  I'm finally able to struggle through ordering at restaurants without resorting to asking for an English menu.  I can even find my bus stop from just about anywhere in the city!

But tonight certainly enlightened me to the fact that I am still in another culture, another country.  It started with Chinese class.  Discussing the crazy stuff that the Chinese (and especially Cantonese) eat.  Said our Chinese instructor: "Yes, I ate dog when I was young.  Actually it was delicious!  But I have a dog now, so I dont eat it anymore."  A statement with implications of both culinary evolution and social movement.  "Do you eat panda?"  Asks a girl in my class (one from Centenary, to boot).  "No, it is much too expensive!"  No questions of species endangerment or national symbolism, but only a matter of what money can buy.  And of course, standard discussions of snake, cat, and the brains of live monkey.  What an interesting culture.

Myself and Evan, another teacher, left class with only one thing on our minds:  It's time to eat some 狗肉！We walked the area around Chinese class, but to no avail.  It was only 5:30, and Evan mentioned that there was a restaurant near his school (which was about an hour away) that advertised 狗肉 on the sign out front.  Determined to live China to its fullest, we hopped on the metro and headed out to NanShan (the western-most district of town).  After getting to the end of the Metro and then riding an express bus to his neighborhood, we arrived at said restaurant and took out seats.  We were the only table in the house.  Not a good sign.

Undaunted, we proceeded to ask for menus and bottles of beer.  If you're going out of your way to eat dog meat (狗肉), then a beer is certainly in order.  Unfortunately, after perusing the menu (all in characters) and questioning the waitress (all in Mandarin), we were made aware of the simple fact that today was lamb day, and not dog day.  Well hell.

After a decent meal of lamb hot pot and fried noodles, there was still plenty of time before I had to head back home.  Evan showed me around his neighborhood (suburbia by Shenzhen standards.... only about 2.2 million people live in his district), including the huge park down the street from his school.... which happened to have outdoor pool tables.  We walked up and asked how much the tables were, and the woman working at the store said "5 kuai."  Gee, what a deal!  After paying, she walked over to an older man sitting at a bench and said (in Chinese) "they (random words I couldnt understand) how much!", at which point they both laughed.  So, I'm pretty sure the tables were free to use.  This theory was further solidified when a number of Chinese men came and started playing on the tables around us... with zero interaction between them and old lady.  Damn.  We played a game of 8 ball (which I won), then a game of 9 ball (which I won).  We had time for one more game, so I made Evan rack up another round of 9 ball.

Fast forward to the 7 ball.  Three left on the table.  I take stock of the situation.  7 and 9 in the center on my near side, 8 on the near left bumper.  I call my shot.  7 to far wall, back to the 9; 9 to near right pocket.  We both know there's no way I'm gonna make it.  The table has been playing with a curve all night.  Even as I measure out the shot, I know it isn't gonna happen.  So I decide, at the last moment, to hit it slightly to the side, hoping for sheer luck and the random blessings of China to come through.

I hit the 7.  It banks far wall.  It's coming back.  It's gonna hit the 9!  It hits the 9!!!! It's going!  No way!!  Game!!!!!!!  It may be the most beautiful billiards shot that I ever have or ever will make.  I erupt into cheers, and may have even dropped to one knee in celebration.  The Chinese men around us become very quiet, and we are now the center of attention.  My night suddenly brighter, it is time to catch my bus.

Evan gives me the numbers of all the busses that leave his stop and end up at the Metro, and I bid him adieu.  On the bus, I read a new book that I borrowed from the CTLC library on a whim.  On the Metro, I read the first two chapters.  An hour later, I arrive at my Metro stop.  Upon exiting, my first thought is "I still haven't taken a picture of the first McDonald's in mainland China."  Having also not patronized any Western chain restaurants, I dismiss the urgency of this thought.  Instead, I take the long way home.

Only to find a carnival.  A what, you might ask?  A carnival.  As in a fair, of the "state fair" variety.  How cool is this?  I had never seen it before, mainly because I had never walked home this way before at night, and happened upon the lights.  What all might a Chinese carnival entail?  The works.  A go-kart track, arcade, pirate ship, water-park, bandstand, carnival games, a possible haunted house, merry-go-round, swings, and a host of others.  Think: bigger in scope than Hamel's (though no roller coaster), a bit smaller than the La State Fair on an awesome year.  Sweet.

After a great night, I head home simply elated, and immediately write the blog which you are now finished reading.  Illiteracy, constant attention, and inexperience at teaching may occasionally make life difficult; but the nights of discovery and pleasant surprises like tonight make it all absolutely worth it.