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34. IT DOES NOT GET ANY WEIRDER THAN THIS
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6/29/2006
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| a photograph of the Qingyi River in Ya'an with a new bridge in the background.
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April 22, 2005
Having just had the absolute most bizarre experience since coming toChina, I must share it with you while it is still fresh in my memory.
This morning, just as I was leaving for class, the telephone rang. Ialways answer the phone in English, but the man on the other end startedspeaking Chinese, so I switched to Chinese. At first I thought it was awrong number, but no. The man, a Mr. Yang, had a request: he wants me totutor him in Chinese. Bear in mind that I am a foreigner speaking Chinesewith a native Chinese speaker, so this seemed like an odd situation. Nowlet me explain. A rather large difference exists between the localdialect and what is called "Putonghua," that is, the standard Mandarinwhich is spoken on television and is studied in school. There is a debateas to which part of China boasts the perfect Putonghua, but most peopleagree that Hong Kong people speak it very well, particularly since theystudy it in school. The language they speak in their homes is Cantonese,which is totally different from Mandarin and mutually unintelligible. TheSichuan dialect spoken here is far from standard. Anyway, I had to go toclass, so I asked Mr. Yang to call me at lunchtime to discuss this ingreater detail.
Lunchtime arrived and I received Mr. Yang's call. I asked him how hefound my phone number. He said that one of his relatives used to livehere, and that he had called yesterday asking for his relative. I dorecall now that someone called yesterday looking for a Mr. Wang. When Iexplained that Mr. Wang doesn't live here anymore, he happened to noticethat I speak clear Putonghua. Therefore, he called back today to ask if Iwould be willing to tutor him in Chinese. "Don't you think it would berather odd to study Chinese from a foreigner?" I asked. There wasconfused silence on the other end for a moment, and then Mr. Yang inquired,
"You mean you're not Chinese?"
The long and the short of it is that I had a little chat with Mr. Yang andexplained that I am a foreign teacher, and that he would probably bebetter off studying Putonghua from someone who is a native speaker,especially since I am still far from speaking even semi-fluently. I don'tknow whether I should be flattered or freaked out by the call. It thinkI'll just have to settle for muttering "weird" several times, shaking myhead, and filing it away as one of those bizarre things that could onlyhappen in China.
The weather here has been stellar the last few days, so yesterday I wentdown to the river to read during my lunch break. (We are allowed a 2hour siesta in the middle of the day). I sure that Ya'an has moreteahouses than people, and when the weather is nice, all along the riverone can observe tables and tables of people drinking tea and playing MahJong or cards. So, I took my book and secured a table, but it soon becameclear that I would not succeed in reading. Sometimes I forget that anytime I am out in public, I am a bit of a spectacle, just on the basis ofthe fact that I am foreign. The two women who run this particularteahouse took their knitting and immediately sat down with me for aleisurely chat, though they interrupted themselves in the middle of almostevery sentence to entreat every passer by to come drink some tea.
After a while, a table of middle-aged women sat down next to me andinvited me to join them. So, I picked up my things and pulled my chairover to their table. They were a fun group - all retired but verylively. They told me that I have nice skin, which surprised them because,in their words, "Most foreigners have very bad skin." Chinese women arefastidious about their facial products and many will spend hundreds ofyuan on face washers and other facial products, even though they wouldn'tdream of paying more than two yuan for a kilo of apples. They said theyare down there playing cards and drinking tea on most days during theafternoon, and they invited me to join them whenever I am free. I don'tknow whether or not the condition of my skin was a decisive factor intheir choosing to extend this invitation.
My big news is that I've officially accepted a position at the universityfor next year, so I'll be moving across town in July. I have beenconsidering it for awhile, but, as I mentioned before, I was concernedabout the living situation. The foreign teachers live in a building bythemselves with a guard and a gate. Apparently, the university decidedthat not only could I live in the building with graduate and doctoralstudents, as I requested, but they should move the other foreign teachersout of their current accommodations and to the graduate quarters, aswell. I don't know if I had any influence in this decision or not. Thegood news is that I will be living with many Chinese people roughly my ownage. The bad news is that the apartment they are giving me is meant fortwelve people, so I will be living in a big, echoing cavern. No kidding!It's ridiculous - three bedrooms that are meant to have four people each,a big living room, a kitchen, a bathroom with three sinks, and twobalconies, one of which looks out over nothing but peach and pear trees.The location is wonderful - on the edge of campus, halfway up the mountainwhere I usually go running, far away from the noise of traffic.
As for the teaching, I am quite excited, because, instead of being thetoken foreigner who goes in once a week to do a dance for sixteendifferent high school classes, I will be an actual teacher who gives examsand grades. I will be structuring whole courses, which is a bit dauntingbut also exciting. The best part is that the English department needssomeone who can teach literature, so I will teach some literature courses,instead of just teaching speaking and writing. The only drawback is thatI feel a little guilty about leaving the high school, since they want meto stay for another year. However, I know that one of the former foreignteachers wants to come back next year, so I would not be leaving theschool or its students high and dry. Also, everyone here whom I've askedfor advice on the matter tells me that, given the choice, they would go tothe university in a New York minute. (Okay, they don't phrase quite likethat, but close enough). So, if nothing else, at least I have validationfrom my friends.
It is Friday afternoon and gorgeous out, so I am off to wander aimlesslyaround the streets of Ya'an. I will probably treat myself to my newfavorite snack: dang dang tang. It is a kind of hard white candy thatfarmers make from corn. The farmers walk around selling it from the backsof their wheelbarrows, and one can always hear them coming because theystrike little iron hammers against the steel boxes containing the candy.The candy is just in a big block, and when a person buys some, the farmersbreak it off with the hammer, making a noise that sounds like "dang,dang." "Tang" means candy, so it is appropriately named.
Although I do not expect anything to occur that can match Mr. Yang's phonecall, who knows what adventure awaits a foreigner let loose in this town?
Until next time,
"Professor" Molly
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